After getting the pottery clay, Veralyn and Alena returned to Veralyn's room.
She changed into her usual clothes and wore an old apron. She put the clay on a stone slab which was already present on her room's only table near the window, as she often did pottery there.
The clay was cool and heavy in her hands - dug years ago from the riverbank and kept sealed in earthen jars. It smelled faintly of soil and ash. Not the finest, but workable enough for shaping. She rolled it between her palms, letting the rhythm of the task quiet her thoughts.
Alena was watching her quietly - or more likely, admiring her lady's skill.
Veralyn felt her gaze and broke the silence.
"You'll dig a hole in my face at this rate."
Alena flinched, caught in the act of her quiet observation. She gently tucked a strand of Veralyn's hair behind her ear - the loose locks had been falling into her eyes, giving her a hard time.
"My lady, I could never dare to - nor let anyone else - dig a hole in your beautiful, angelic face," she said softly. "I was only admiring my brilliant and talented Lady."
Veralyn chuckled. "Me? You're exaggerating."
She returned her focus to the clay, her fingers moving with steady care as she continued shaping her work of poetry.
"Don't think of yourself any less, please!" Alena's voice held a mix of tenderness and something sharper - frustration. "You're the most talented and deserving noble I have ever known or heard of. You were never given a chance, yet you taught yourself to read, to write, to compose poetry, to cook... You study plants, and you even know how to wield a sword better than the Baroness's second-born, who keeps failing his Noble Academy exams!"
She crossed her arms, her voice rising with quiet disappointment. "If only you had been given the same chances as Monica and Lucien..."
Veralyn let out a sigh.
"I don't know what to say about Lucien, but... Sister Monica was the one who gave me a chance to learn and helped me. She only acts like she doesn't care about anyone or is a brat who can't do anything properly. She knew I was interested in learning and helped me hide in her room so I could listen to the teachers' lessons. And once the teacher was gone, she would help me with the parts I didn't understand, or with revision. She included me in all her lessons-Music, History, Physics, Mathematics, Politics, Science, Economics, Dancing, even her ethics and manners classes.
If I got stuck somewhere, she would act like she didn't understand either, so the teacher would repeat the lesson. I..."
She stopped to catch a breath.
"I can't stand it when someone bad-mouths her, so please-don't you."
Alena was shocked-it was clear from her expression: eyes wide from the sudden information, eyebrows raised, and mouth slightly open as she was left speechless. Then she asked,
"Why? Then why is she acting like she is... useless? Like she has no brain, wasting money and time attending balls and theatres?"
With narrowed eyebrows and a tightened face, Veralyn replied,
"Because she is a woman. And if women are smart, they're married off soon-so men can shut them away with family and kids. She hates that idea. She acts this way so no one gets interested in her. She wants women to get equal rights like men. She believes we deserve the same rights-because we're human.
She attends balls to form strong bonds. She attends theatre because it's where most noble women gather. She's planning a revolution... it's such a shame I am of no help."
Silence fell over them.
Veralyn remembered her childhood with Monica.
---
> Five-year-old Veralyn, all alone, was lying under a bed. Staring at the under-build of the large frame, she traced the wooden beams with a tiny finger.
> "So here you are!" said seven-year-old Monica cheerfully, as if she had found a hidden treasure.
> "Oh, you took longer this time," said little Veralyn, lonely while waiting for her big sister to finally find her and finish the game of hide and seek.
> Monica helped her out.
"It's just that you're so good at hiding that it always takes me long to find you." She gently brushed the dust from Veralyn's dress.
"But don't worry-no matter where you are, your big sister will find you. I cross my heart and hope to die if I ever break this promise," said little Monica while crossing her chest in solemn vow.
> Veralyn smiled a little, but her face was still gloomy. Monica noticed.
> "I wish I was a mind reader-but alas, I'm not. So will my little princess tell me what is troubling her and stopping her from giving me a big smile?"
> "Sister... why doesn't Mother love me like she loves you and Lucien? Is it because I'm not a good girl? Tell me what to do so Mother will love me too. Will she, if I start eating less? She stares at me when I eat. Or if I stop playing? She looks angry when I play in the garden..."
With big doe eyes, Veralyn asked with innocence.
> Monica was confused-and saddened-by Veralyn's words. She knew the horrible truth that was being hidden, yet she couldn't bring herself to reveal it. Gently, she patted Veralyn's head.
> "Veralyn, you don't have to impress anyone just to be loved," she said softly. "Someone will love you exactly as you are. I love you as you are. So never change yourself just to be accepted."
> Monica pulled Veralyn into her arms, trying to appear brave-though she herself was only a child.
> It wasn't long after that day that Veralyn learned the truth: the people she called her parents were not her real parents. Her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces the night the Baroness-drunk and cruel-told eight-year-old Veralyn that she was not their child. That she was a burden. A curse.
Back to the present-
Veralyn's eyes shimmered with tears.
"I apologise, my lady, for forgetting my place and speaking so freely. I... I never knew Monica was like this. I believed what I heard. I've barely interacted with her myself. Monica left when she was fourteen for further education. The Baroness wanted her to become a lady-in-waiting for the future queen. But when rumours came that she attended too many parties, the maids started calling her a lost cause. I'm really sorry."
"Dear Alena," Veralyn replied softly while shaping the neck of the vase, "It's alright. We all grow up believing our elders. That's why change is needed-and Monica won't stop until that change comes."
"I think you two will get along just fine," Veralyn said with a teasing smile. "She has a soft spot for complicated cases."
"Are you calling me complicated, my lady?" Alena huffed, trying to hide her flustered face. "And I don't care whether she likes me or not. Hmph."
"I can already imagine you following her around like a tail—just like you do with me," Veralyn teased, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Don't worry. She's a gentlewoman."
"What?! I won't! I won't even talk to her," Alena huffed, crossing her arms with a pout.
"Hahaha, sure. We'll see about that. She's coming for my birthday, after all," Veralyn said with a wink.
Alena looked away, muttering under her breath, but Veralyn just laughed again.
Amid the teasing and chatter, Veralyn finished shaping the clay into a graceful vase. Its curved neck and wide belly looked uneven in parts, but to her, it was perfect. She held it up with pride, showing it to Alena, who clapped quietly.
Together, they carefully carried the vase to the garden to keep the vase in sunlight to let it dry.
"There," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Let's hope it doesn't crack."
Alena grinned. "If it does, I'll still say it's beautiful."
They had lunch together, chatting about the usual things. Afterward, both of them helped the other maids with chores around the Mansion.
Before the Baroness arrived with her mother, Veralyn changed into a proper dress again—resuming her role as the well-raised girl of the house, at least until her grandmother returned to her own estate.
In the evening, Veralyn accompanied her grandmother and the Baroness on a walk. She mostly followed quietly as the two women strolled and talked endlessly about noble gossip, which bored Veralyn to no end.
Dinner that night was a feast. Veralyn was genuinely happy that her grandmother had come to visit. During her stay, Veralyn would be safe—and well fed. She was rarely allowed at the main dining table, but tonight was an exception, thanks to her grandmother's presence.
Veralyn went to bed with a full stomach, thinking she might finally have good dreams.
But in the middle of the night, she woke up with a jolt—a nightmare. She had dreamt of being chased through a dark forest. She couldn't see who was behind her, only that she had to keep running.
As she caught her breath, there was a soft knock at her door. It was the maid who served as the Baroness's right hand. Her expression was unreadable as she said, "The Lady of the Mansion has called for you."