Forlaith: An Injury

February 7

Another day of boredom and confinement awaited us as we descended the wide staircase and entered the great hall. Thus far, life within the castle walls was filled with a great deal of little nothings, and yet Oswyn acted as if our schedules were filled to the brim, bustling us from one task to another as though we didn't have a moment to lose. 
 
Leofrick, Aedan and Sadon were already in the great hall, attending to their own dull tasks. Leofrick and Aedan were copying something onto scraps of paper and laughing at Sadon, who was cringing away from Oswyn as she tried to teach him to dance.

Unlike the rest of us, Sadon had spent his younger years working like any other ship mate or servant. His family had endured such financial hardship that he was kept him from the life of luxury and education that we had enjoyed. Despite this fact, we were all surprised to learn that he could barely read and write, and that he had no experience with the basic refinements, such as dancing. 
 
Without thinking about it, I stepped forward and interrupted their stumbling progress through the waltz. “Perhaps I could help?” I offered, wording it as a question in case Oswyn was in her one of her moods. We had all learned within the first few days that she tended to take offense at the oddest things. 
 
“Yes. I think that's a very good idea. I'm sure your steps need polishing too. And there's no better way to learn something yourself than to teach it.” With this statement she transferred Sadon's sweaty hand to my own. I ground my teeth as I waited for the young man to muster up the courage to take my waist with his other hand. Oswyn continued to find the most unusual ways of belittling us and our abilities. She had never seen me dance, and yet she chose to assume that I was no good at it. 
 
“You okay?” asked Sadon as he pulled aggressively on my waist to get us moving and threw me off balance. I stumbled into his chest. He apologized though I didn't hear him, I was too busy watching Oswyn frown at me. 
 
I wanted to scream “it wasn't my fault!” 
 
Instead, I shook my head, trying to banish the anger from my mind. Something about Oswyn made we want to strangle her, when, until very recently, I had never had a violent thought. But her! That...

“Are you okay?” Sadon asked again, effectively breaking into my sadistic reveling. 
 
“Yes,” I murmured, forcing a smile to my lips. Sadon was nice. He didn't deserve an angry, resentful partner. “Sorry. She just...”

“I know,” he said before I could get myself in trouble.

I spent the next two hours working with Sadon on his dancing, until I grew tired and an injudicious step sent me sprawling across the floor and thudding into the ornate fire place. All my new siblings came running, slowly followed by Oswyn.

“Forlaith, you okay?” asked Sadon as he skidded to stop beside me.
 
I tried to assess my body, but everyone was shouting at me, demanding to know if I was alright, and their cacophony of noise made it impossible to think. A moment later, another louder voice joined the fray. Oswyn barked at the others to step aside, get help and generally be less “officious,” while at the same time trying to nudge her way into our small circle. 
 
Slowly I began to feel the varying aches and pains of landing so hard against the stone flooring, but the most persistent pain was a burning sensation in my left ankle. I was also feeling the beginning of a headache as I tried to ignore the others' noise. 
 
“SILENCE!” commanded a voice from the side entrance, causing me to cringe. We all turned to see Ardythe stride in, followed by Kaplan who had been spending his time with the king, Marcys and Jehan. “What happened?”

Again the whole throng of individuals began reciting their version of the story. Ardythe jerked his hand in another command to be quiet before looking to Oswyn.

“I-I had Forlaith helping Sadon to-to refine his dance steps when the little kluts tripped,” stammered Oswyn, growing more confident the more she spoke.

“No! It was my fault.”

“No...” I tried to interrupt Sadon but I was too late, he had already taken the blame. 
 
Ardythe looked down at me. “Are you hurt?” 
 
I hesitated. I didn't want to tell them the truth, but as the pain increased I had a feeling that I wouldn't be able to hide it. “Just my ankle,” I stated, refusing to be afraid of my new father, or at least trying to be brave enough to face him.

“You're dismissed,” said Ardythe, waving his large hand at the crowd. My brothers and sisters left slowly. “You too.” Oswyn pursed her lips as she hesitated a moment before obeying her king. “Not you Sadon. Now, Forlaith, I need to check your ankle,” added the king as he knelt down in front of me. 
 
The king lifted the skirt of my dress enough to reveal my ankle, though I could barely recognize it as my ankle. The limb, which was normally thin and tapered, was already now twice it's usual size and turning an unusual shade of purple. Ardythe raised his eyes towards my face before shifting his dark glower to Sadon.

“You dare damage her? The most beautiful daughter I have! All my plans rest on her and you get her hurt!” By the end the king's voice was a bellow of unadulterated rage. 
 
I shied away from him, though the movement caused tears to prick my eyes. What did he mean? How could I possibly be so important? I glanced at the others and spotted my sisters. Their lips were pursed, just like Oswyn's. They were as upset by my sudden importance as I was, though likely for different reasons. 
 
“I-I... s-s-sorry, my lord,” stammered the prince as he ducked his head in a submissive gesture. 
 
“Get out of my sight,” growled the king. The young lad scurried away and out of the castle. I wanted to follow him.

“Kaplan, would you mind?” asked Ardythe in a completely different voice, though what he was asking Kaplan to do I couldn't tell, but before I could protest, my oldest brother had scooped me up into his arms and was following the king out of the great hall, where, no doubt, the others were immediately take up a rampage against me, led by Oswyn.

The rest of the day was spent being poked and prodded by an old healer. I was proclaimed safe, with just a bad sprain and a few bruises, but would be confined to my bed for a couple of days, at the very least.

This left me with more time to think than I would have liked. I cannot make out what Ardythe could possibly have meant about me. Clearly he thinks I'm beautiful, but I cannot believe I am anything beyond my older sisters. And what does he need beautiful women for anyway? My stomach grew cold as I thought through the possible ramifications. Men wanted beautiful women. Were we really here for Ardythe's... entertainment? No, that didn't fit. If that were the case he would not have sought out nobles, nor would he have waited. He definitely wouldn't take the trouble to continue our education. Much as I hate to admit it, he has acted completely appropriately towards us, like any other absent-minded father. No, our beauty must be for some other men. 
 
I tremble to think what men? Would they be kind? Would they be gentle? Could they possibly love us?

The answer to all these questions seemed likely to be no. Again I begin to smear my ink with tears. Perhaps I should stop writing.

Forlaith