Bravely(10)

Quite suddenly, Merida was furious. At Leezie for never doing her tasks properly. At her mother for letting Leezie always get away with it, when she never let Merida get away with sloppiness. At the devilish triplets for using up too much of Elinor’s disciplinary energy. At her father Fergus for not taking up the slack of shouting at the triplets so that her mother had more time to shout at Leezie. And finally, at the fire, for failing to do the only thing expected of it. Burn! Burn! How hard could it be? Merida’s cheeks were doing it just fine.

“Ma’am, do you need me to stock your hearth?”

Merida jumped.

The voice had come from behind her, inside her room.

Spinning, she discovered an elegant little girl in a servant’s simple dress, her arms piled with firewood and cleaning supplies.

“How’d you get in here?” Merida asked.

“Came in with the dogs, ma’am.”

This girl had been in her room this entire time? It felt like a magic trick. Not magic like the Cailleach’s knock on the door last night, but a little unsettling nonetheless. Merida asked, “Who are you?”

“Ila, ma’am.” The girl managed a catlike, sinuous curtsy even with her arms full. “I was supposed to take Leezie’s place.”

Take.

Leezie’s.

Place.

Merida felt an actual burst of physical pain at this phrase—a squeeze, right in her stomach, like her insides were being gripped. She felt betrayed by her own mind. It had tried to convince her she was upset about her filthy dress or the unready fire or even the dueling gods, when really the thing stopped her in her tracks was the knowledge that today was Leezie’s wedding day. Leezie! Getting married! Leezie! To the Cabbage! It had been four years since Elinor had invited Leezie to be the castle’s housekeeper. Four years since Leezie had completely failed at anything like housekeeping and had completely succeeded in weaseling her way into the Clan DunBroch’s hearts instead. Now, she was like a sister to Merida. An aggravating, vague, silly sister, but a sister nonetheless, her best friend. She was only moving as far as the blackhouse village, barely a mile away, but when the rest of your family lived in a castle, it wasn’t physical distance that mattered.

“Ma’am?” Ila said politely. “Is something wrong?”

Merida was uncomfortably aware she had been staring off into space, her face twisted with distress. She tried to organize it into something a bit more royal and drew her blanket robe close around her. “I’m fine. Fine! Fine. My mother hired you? Wait, is that soap you’ve got there?”

“Aye, and some wee tweezers, ma’am. I saw your dress and thought you might need them for the thorns. Anything else, ma’am?”

Merida, entirely unused to having a housekeeper who actually kept house, had no idea what was reasonable to ask. “Could I get some water for washing? Are you big enough to carry a bucket up these stairs?”

“I’m stronger than I look,” Ila said. She transferred the contents of her arms to the hearth in one neat movement, as if she’d been doing this sort of work her entire young life. Possibly she had. Leezie had only begun once her mother died, but most of the villagers knew their future trades from birth. “Older, too.”

Merida said, “And more clever, I suppose.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There was no hint of a smile to indicate if Ila thought this was a joke. She really was a lot like a cat. Sly. Private. Not conniving, like Harris, just thinking secret thoughts in the way cats do.

“Of course you are,” Merida said, watching Ila expertly birth a fire from embers. Amazing how cheering a good little pile of firewood was. Really, Leezie’s wedding was a good thing. Last night, the Cailleach’s offering of one year had felt generous. Excessive. But now, in the bright, stark light of morning, it seemed obvious that the gift of a year meant the gods were expecting much more sweeping changes than Merida had originally been picturing. Change like Leezie’s wedding. Leezie was such an integral part of the household that it was possible her marriage would provoke shifts in the other family members, too. It might do most of Merida’s work for her.

Yes, she was starting to feel much better. “Ila—Ila, is it? So you’re helping with the feast and the wedding today, right?”

“I am, ma’am, but—”

“You don’t have to call me ma’am. I just need to know how much time I have to clean my dress,” Merida said. “I wonder if I could boil it. Does that sound reasonable? I thought I heard Leezie say something about boiling bedsheets, but sometimes her ideas are not very good.”

“But, ma’am—”

“Call me Merida. You can call Mum ma’am. She likes it. I suppose my dress doesn’t have to be that clean, does it? Just not crunchy. The parts that stick out under the surcoat need to be clean, that’s all. I need to stay focused! Lots to do before the wedding and the feast and the revenge on the triplets and all that.”

“But, Merida,” Ila said, managing to somehow still say “Merida” in a very “ma’am” way. “Didn’t you hear, then?”

“Hear what?”

Ila looked a little apologetic. “First thing this morning, Leezie called the wedding off.”





RIGHT off. Leezie had called it right off. She hadn’t postponed it to a new date. She hadn’t said she needed more time to prepare. She had simply called the wedding right off.