Inessa finished delivering the basket of apples to the kitchens, apologizing for some of the more bruised ones. She took off her cloak and headed toward her room, where she once again moved all the gifts and mementos onto the desk before popping open the false bottom. She took out the drawstring bag from her bodice and opened it to check on it.

There was a knock at the door. “Inessa?” Her heart dropped. It was Martin. She scrambled to close the bag. “I wanted to talk to you, if that’s alright.” He started to open the door.

She thought quickly. “I’m not decent.”

As she hoped, Martin slammed the door closed. “Oh, oh, I’m sorry.”

Inessa scrambled to get the bag into the bottom of the drawer, and in her hast the dagger she had under there sliced her pointer finger. Inessa gasped, sucking on her finger as she hastily stuck the wood on there and put the rest of the items back. She gripped a handkerchief in her fist to keep the cut from bleeding everywhere. “Just give me a moment, I’ll be ready.”

“I… yes, um, take your time. I… I am in no rush,” Martin said.

Inessa threw off her simple dress, doing her best not to get blood on her white nightclothes. She climbed into them, pulling her arms through the sleeves before tying the string in front of her that helped keep it on. Martin never looked at her when she was in her nightclothes, and she could use this to her advantage. Whatever he wanted to say, he’d be in and out quickly and she could be left alone again. She threw on her bed robe, though it did little to hide how thin her nightclothes were. Inessa pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders before she opened the door, trying to smile. “Forgive me, Martin. Would you like to come in?” She made her voice quiet and changed the tone enough to make it more childlike, because Martin hated that. It would give him another reason to leave fast.

Martin, as she expected, did not look at her. “I, um, yes, thank you. That… that is kind of you.”

Inessa stepped aside and he walked in. Inessa moved to her desk and pulled out her hairbrush, brushing it with one hand. Inessa had a feeling Jina fed her a fable, but she still felt obligated to brush each section of her hair a hundred times to make sure it kept its thickness and glossy shine.

“I heard you went out picking apples,” Martin said, staying by the door to keep his escape close.

“Yes, I did,” Inessa said. She looked at Martin through her mirror, saw that he was not looking at her, instead focusing on the opposite wall that had a small painting on it. Whatever he wanted to say, he would pad it with small talk, so she obliged him. “I love the apple pastries the servants make.”

“They are quite delicious.”

“I picked enough for the children to have some too, if they wanted some.”

“How thoughtful.”

The only thing filling the silence was Inessa’s hairbrush running through her hair. She had almost finished on her left side, and Martin still stood there, looking like he needed to say something, but not sure how to get it out, staring at anything in the room except for her. Inessa finished brushing on one side and moved to the other, keeping the handkerchief tightly over her finger. It wasn’t a simple in and out kind of conversation, then. Martin was hesitating, looking almost embarrassed at whatever he needed to say. She needed to force him to say whatever he needed to say to get him out, which meant touching on a subject that would be far more embarrassing for him than whatever he needed to say.

Inessa set her brush down, reaching for the string that kept her nightclothes up. “Would you like to sleep here tonight? Do you need me to start getting undre-”

“No!” Martin said, his eyes instantly finding hers in the mirror. He looked horror stricken at her fingers at the string and in two long strides he was there, keeping her hand from pulling it. “No, no. Please, it’s alright. No need. No need for that.” Inessa nodded, still keeping her eyes wide and childlike as she felt herself smirking within. He released her hand like he had touched something hot. “I just… I just wanted to come in here and say that… that I believe Indenuel has…” He stalled again, still not looking at her.

Inessa frowned. Oh, wonderful. This kind of conversation.

Martin cleared his throat, slowly backing away, keeping his eyes averted. “I cannot be certain, but… but I know that men… you with your… men your age…”

Inessa picked up her hairbrush, her shoulders slumping. “I will do my best to keep him from developing feelings, Martin.”

He gave a sigh, rubbing his face. “Thank you, Inessa.”

“Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight…” Inessa said in her mind as she kept brushing.

“What’s that?” Martin asked.

Her heart quickened. She frantically looked at her desk, then at the drawers, trying to see if she had left out evidence. She had put everything away in such a rush, she couldn’t be certain.

Martin was there, at her desk, looking at her handkerchief that was speckled with blood.

“Oh,” she said, feeling relief. “It was… um, in my hast I… I got my finger on my hair pin and…”

Inessa froze as Martin grabbed her wrist and helped her stand up. She waited for him to catch her in the lie. It obviously wasn’t a prick from a hair pin. This was the tiny slice of a dagger. A dagger she kept hidden for reasons she didn’t dare divulge. It was simply one of those things every concubine had, and no one talked about. Poisons, daggers, rope. It was widely known in the city that over a dozen lives have been lost in the concubine program, but no one ever talked about it. The honors and titles remained even after a concubine died. It was too valuable a thing for the city. If Inessa had acquired the dagger in her first week, she wouldn’t have lasted long either. It was a reminder that the only choice she could make herself was death. Every other choice was made for her. Even the poppy root she would eventually have to give up.

Martin held her wrist tenderly as he removed the handkerchief, wincing in sympathy as he looked at the cut.

“I… I guess I was in too much of a hurry getting changed,” Inessa said.

Martin touched her palm, closing his eyes, and stitching the skin together quickly before taking his hand away and examining the newly healed finger. “Good as new.”

Inessa nodded, allowing him to be deceived by the lie. She wondered if the High Elders ever talked about the high number of deaths among the concubines, or if they simply ignored it like the rest of the city. “Thank you, Martin.”

He dropped her hand. “And thank you, Inessa. You need to keep Indenuel’s soul safe from distractions. He must be trained, and he must focus on that.”

She gave a smile she didn’t feel, but she had practiced, so it looked convincing. “Of course. I know my place.”

Martin nodded, and once again Inessa expected him to go, but he stayed. He was actually looking at her. Granted, it was just at her face, and she could see that he was uncomfortable with this much, but it was a lot more than she expected.

“I know this has been hard for you,” Martin said. Inessa couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. This was the first time he acknowledged this. “I had hoped, maybe, that you and Adosina could have remained friends.”

Inessa couldn’t help but stare at Martin, trying to hide the incredulousness from her face. “I…” She blinked a few more times. “To…” She hesitated but decided she might as well speak her mind. “To be friends with someone else’s concubine when she secretly hates this law truly shows how kind and generous Adosina’s character is. But to be friends with your own father’s concubine, I do not blame her in the slightest for not wanting to be around me anymore.”

“I just… I had hoped…” Martin started to say before he gave a sigh. “You’re not too lonely, are you?”

Inessa frowned, part of her wondering if maybe Martin did suspect it was a dagger cut on her finger. But no. If he knew that, Martin wouldn’t rest until the entire room was searched and the dagger removed.

“And if I said I was?” Inessa asked quietly. “What difference would that make? You will still avoid me every chance you get. Sara would still make sure no one acknowledges me, and Rosa will go along with it. Ana will only talk to me if she feels it necessary. And Adosina will continue to pretend like she isn’t disgusted by what I must do while standing by her mother’s side to make sure Sara doesn’t get miserable like all the other High Elders’ wives.” Inessa had to look away from Martin’s gaze. “The only difference is you will know I’m lonely.”

Martin gave a careful nod, finally turning and taking a few steps away. He looked like he was about to say something but changed his mind. He gave a firm bow. “Good night, Inessa.” He headed for the door. He almost had it open when he turned his head ever so slightly. “I’m sorry.”

It was such a weird apology. Inessa didn’t know what to make of it. “Good night, Martin.” He closed the door, and Inessa continued brushing her hair where she left off. He apologized, but it didn’t mean anything was going to be different.

She remembered her friendship with Adosina. Inessa had never admitted this to her, but her outreach literally saved Inessa’s life. Being thrust into this lifestyle was an almost impossible adjustment to make. She went from going to bed hungry to eating so much she almost vomited. But there was the other aspect of it to. The pain she felt from being intimate for the first time and being forbidden to talk about it. The terror at Dalius, an old man, using her in such a way, then hearing him stand and proclaim the word of God to the congregation, warning them to stay away from sin. She had to keep herself from crying every night for a week, because Dalius was there even though he had others.

The end of the second week he finally moved to another, and Adosina introduced herself at a Sabbath social. She sat down next to her, ignoring the concubine dress, and chatted with her like she was any other High-Class woman. She must have known how close Inessa felt to stepping in front of a charging horse. Adosina helped her, introduced her to her concubine sisters, encouraged her to get to know them. She even had other friends who were concubines. The kindness alone saved Inessa’s life. After a year of not getting pregnant, Inessa was given to Navir, and Adosina was the one constant she could count on every Sabbath. Their friendship, even as so many things had changed, grew deeper. Honestly, it felt like nothing could split the two girls up.

Except being given to Martin. She still remembered standing before the High Elders, a few days earlier than expected. If they had come to collect her when they said, they would have found her body instead. She did not want to go back home disgraced. It would have been better for her family if she had died. Instead of disgracing her, Navir shoved her at Martin, ordering him to try and get her pregnant. To heal what was broken in her. When he brought her home, Adosina looked on in horror, and their friendship dissolved that moment.

She set her brush down and quickly put her hair in a clip. She shrugged off her robe and climbed into bed. In the large bed meant for two people, she curled up as small as possible, hugging her knees, remembering not that long ago when she saw Indenuel. A boy her age, as Martin put it. The legendary Warrior who couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Did he honestly expect concubines to be ugly?

Inessa sighed, running their conversation over in her head, trying to figure out the best way to quietly dissuade him from developing feelings for her. Despite his legendary status, he was just another boy who saw her as impossible to get, and therefore needed her desperately. Boys were ridiculous that way.