While Waiting to Wake

“Physical… training?” she puffed.

“Your lungs are weak and so is your body,” her brother said briskly. “It isn’t good for your health.”

Em frowned and tilted her head.

She didn’t mind the idea of strengthening her body. In fact, now that she could run around without pain or exhaustion, she wanted to do more.

Much more.

It just surprised her that Flint suggested it.

The highest physical exertion women were expected to do in this world was keep house and have babies. Of course, women could do other things. Like become soldiers and knights.

But it wasn’t expected or encouraged.

In fact, among the nobility, it was considered a source of shame to have a woman in the family who did more than expected.

Even learning to read was treated weird.

A little girl would learn, but then was expected to pretend she did very little of it. Basically, just enough to send and read invitations. Books of actual knowledge was practically forbidden after a certain age and outside specific subjects.

Even if the girl wanted to read a romance novel! Or a fairy tale!

For example, such books was bought in secrecy (literally at the back of bookstores in ‘special’ rooms). And everyone pretended they didn’t know where it came from if someone noticed it on the library shelf.

It was ridiculous.

The only exception for ‘acceptable woman roles’ was sorcery.

Suddenly, none of the rules applied because you are one of the rare people who could master all the elements and manipulate complex runes.

All of which required a high education for mastery.

Em thought through all of this while Flint handed her into the carriage. Normally he would have gotten in before Tracy, since Tracy was a servant, but he took a moment to talk to the driver before getting in. Which left time for Tracy to get in first.

“What sort of physical training?”

Flint settled into his seat, crossed his arms, and looked out the window. “Running.”

Em waited, but he said nothing more. The carriage started moving.

“That’s it?”

“What else is there?”

For a moment, Em was disappointed. So Flint wasn’t progressive after all. Maybe he didn’t have any female knights. Or because Em's status as a lady made him forget that there could just possibly be other options.

“I could learn more dancing.” That would be socially acceptable and she liked to dance. But, just to press her luck, she added, “Or swordplay.”

Both adults whipped their heads in her direction.

“Swordplay?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Miss Emmaline.”

“Why not?” Em pressed. “I’m healthy enough for it, right, Brother?”

Flint started, which she thought was interesting. Emmaline had never known what to call her brother and had always avoided calling him anything if she could help it.

It was Em who chose something and now she was seeing the results.

Did he hate it?

She waited while he visibly regained composure.

“You want to learn swordplay, Emmaline?”

It wasn’t that she was particularly interested in learning swordplay. But she knew how dangerous this world was going to get soon. It wouldn’t hurt to know how to defend herself.

“Yes,” she said. Firmly.

He grunted and went back to looking out the window. “I’ll arrange it, then.”

Em’s mouth fell open in shock and delight.

He agreed!

“My lord,” Tracy protested. “That could be detrimental for her future.”

“How so?”

Tracy fidgeted. Suddenly realizing she was talking back to her superior. Looking down at her lap, she spoke as quietly and respectfully as she could. Without making herself inaudible.

“When she comes of age, the nobility will be critical of her background if it includes unladylike behavior. She’ll have difficulty finding a husband.”

“Any man unwilling to accept her as is, isn’t worth her notice.”

Em had just regained control of her mouth. Now it fell open again.

Did he really just say that?!

Suddenly, she was dead certain she was going to develop a dangerous case of hero worship for this brother of her’s. She beamed, jumped to her feet, and threw her arms around him.

“Thank you!”

Flint froze. Then, with a grunt, he pushed her back onto her seat.

Gently.

“You shouldn’t stand in a moving carriage, Emmaline. Its dangerous.”

“Yes, sir.”

Em hummed to herself as she followed Flint’s example and looked out the window.

Swordplay!

And probably more dancing. She couldn’t wait! Was this body coordinated? Or would it have two left feet? Even if she had to work extra hard to gain some coordination, it would still be worth it to move around and-

Her thoughts cut off, and she sobered.

After experiencing all this freedom, how could she go back?

And how could she resign herself to dying all over again?

For a moment… for just that short moment… she’d forgotten that she wasn’t really Emmaline Grimshaw. And that sometime, she’d eventually wake up.

She chewed on her lip, not seeing the sights outside the window for a good twenty minutes. When she did, she blinked in confusion, then rose halfway out of her seat to get a better look.

“Where are we going? I don’t recognize anything.”

“Sit down, Emmaline.”

She sat down. “But where-?”

“To the Palace.”

Em stared at him, bewildered. “The Palace? Why?”

A muscle tightened in Flint’s jaw, and his eyes flashed. “Because,” he said, his voice a growl, “we had an idiot for a brother.”

The Palace.

Em’s stomach twisted and sunk.

That was the last place she wanted to go!

Suddenly terrified that all of Flint’s promises were just to keep her happy, she looked apprehensively at him.

He knew her secret. Was he making excuses to hide his real intentions? Was she being sold to the Crown Prince right now? Bile rose up her throat, and she had to swallow to get it down.

If that’s what was going on, what could she do about it? Run away? Be a beggar on the streets?

Even if she did that, it wouldn’t take long for them to find her. Then they’d lock her up.

Oh, gods! What was she going to do?!

Don’t panic, Em, we don’t know what’s going on yet. Don’t assume anything, she told herself firmly. Her insides didn’t obey, but she could stay in her seat. Instead of, say, trying to jump out of a moving carriage.

The Palace… was breathtaking.

And huge!

If the Temple complex was vast, this place was bigger. There were roads and trails that branched in multiple directions and she had vague memories of being told there were actually thirty ‘palaces’ on the property.

But this was the main one. Where the Emperor conducted his ‘ruling world’ business.

She let Flint hand her out of the carriage. Then gaped at the architectural extravagances of the building while her brother talked to a servant.

“Close your mouth, Emmaline.”

Flint put a hand on her shoulder to get her walking. Then strode boldly ahead with the servant leading them.

Tracy stayed behind.

Em hurried to catch up and practically had to jog the rest of the way. It wasn’t until she was huffing that Flint realized what was going on and slowed down.

Compared to her dingy apartment in real life, the baron’s manor had been magnificent. But the Palace made even the baron’s manor seem shabby. Everywhere she looked were paintings in ornate frames, flower vases that had delicate and wonderful designs, carpet runners in vibrant colors, tapestries, statues, gold plated moldings…

It was both beautiful and intimidating.

Was this why rich people decorated as extravagantly as they could? To make people realize just where they fall on the food chain in relation to them?

The servant led them to an inner room and knocked on the door. Which was then opened by another servant.

“Baron Grimshaw and his sister are here.”

The second servant nodded and stood back, bowing them in.

If Em were a little braver, and surer of Flint, she might have grabbed his hand as soon as they entered the sitting room. She would have if it had been Maddie with her instead.

If you didn’t count the servants (there were a good handful standing next to tea carts or along the walls), there were only two occupants of the room. One of them was an old, heavyset man with a monocle. Em guessed him to be around sixty, maybe seventy.

The other one…

Even if she hadn’t had Emmaline’s memories of seeing this man’s portrait, she would have recognized him without it.

Blonde hair streaked with white silver, icy blue eyes, and a scar shaped like three small claw marks under his right eye. His brother’s elemental bird had torn his cheek when he was twelve, Em remembered.

Em knew that because you tend to learn a lot about the protagonist of any story.