Chapter 4- Not the Same

Immor woke slowly with a groan as she blinked her eyes open, already feeling different. Her body was different, she thought. She was slightly shorter, her breasts flatter and body skinnier like a child’s. She remembered that at age sixteen she had begun to fill out and blossom into a beautiful young woman. At seventeen she was at her peak, but it was different now. She was back in a fifteen-year-old’s body, and now it was beginning to depress her.

Immor looked around the room slowly, her eyes widening as she realized she was very much at home in her own bed at the duchy. The sun was streaming through the floor to ceiling windows on either side of her duvet. Both windows opened from the bottom up led to the large balcony that was granted to her since she was the eldest child. Her balcony was her favorite place in the summer though her skin burned rather than tan. She was sure it was her father’s fault, whoever he was.

Immor brushed her hands against the sheer white curtains of her four-poster bed that were falling into place though one was tied back. She missed her bed so much. Immor pushed her thin silk sheet off. Since it was the summer it was too hot to wear too many clothes or have too many blankets. It would be different in Bringdon. It was hot in the summer but cold in the winter, and they even sometimes got snow. Woreden never got snow even if it got cold enough to wear furs around their neck, it was more for show than anything.

Immor pressed her hand against her face, “I did not think I would ever come back to this day…”

Immor brushed her hand against her cheeks that were still fleshy and soft, and a smile came to her face. She did miss her fuller cheeks. Once she reached seventeen, she had begun to thin out. She turned her head, a smile on her face but it faded as she searched the bed. Something was missing.

Immor remembered clearly that three days before she went to finishing school, Nahlaya had insisted that they share a bed for the three nights because she would miss her. Nahlaya always acted like a child when Immor had to leave for places, but Immor was not annoyed by it. She glanced around, wondering where Nahlaya was. Her sister never woke until noon and slept like the living dead.

Immor climbed out of bed, her feet meeting the ground and she went to the closet door, her eyes narrowed slightly. If Nahlaya was not there with her then she probably was in her own room, but could time be changed like that? She sighed as she rubbed her forehead. Maybe she remembered it wrong, she thought.

She shrugged her shoulders and began to get ready, slipping on her clothes and lacing them in the front. Since she was still a “child” she did not have a maid that would help her get ready because the laces were easy to do up. She would be introduced to women’s clothes in finishing school, though she was not planning on going. Once she met up with Maybeth everything would be settled. Then she would be meeting with that blasted Herron.

Immor gritted her teeth as she put on her shoes and breathed out slowly as she closed her eyes. She needed to calm down, she thought, she was too excited about what was going to happen. She had to be tactful and make sure that she did not do any mistakes.

Immor fixed her hair and washed her face, tidying herself up before she left the room. Everything was still in place, and the maids greeted her as they did every morning before Galadan had destroyed everything. She greeted them back and made her way down to the kitchens. Her old habits were coming back as if she had never left, and it made her pleased that everything was where it should have been. She was half tempted to kill Herron instead of going on the trip and continuing with the easy life given to her. She probably could not get away with killing anyone though.

She flexed her fingers, feeling her power swirl inside of her and a smile came to her lips. She was not very useless, she thought as she walked into the large kitchen where the cooks were busy making breakfast for the duke and duchess.

Immor walked into the kitchens and greeted the cooks as she did every morning post Galadan’s attack. They were all at work, but they stopped for a moment to greet her as she made her way to the counter, they had given her to use for her breakfast.

She rolled her sleeves up and picked up her apron, tying it around her waist as she began to work. She took a bowl and filled it with flour before she took the jar of honey and began to undo the lid to sweeten the breakfast instead of using sugar.

The head cook stepped up to her, “My lady,” he said, “You’ll be leaving us tomorrow morning?”

She smiled as she gathered her ingredients, “I am indeed,” she answered, “You promise to miss me while I am away?”

He laughed, and a few other cooks chortled softly though they knew she was making fun with them.

The head cook shrugged his shoulders, “I will indeed, and I am sure we will all do so. You most likely will come back an accomplished young lady and have no wish to come fraternize with the servants.”

“Nonsense!” the head baker exclaimed, her eyes narrowed in annoyance, “Lady Immor is a proper lady, she is not like those others.”

Immor chuckled, “I will try my best to come back and be the same Immor you all know,” she took a wooden spoon and began to mix her ingredients together, “Besides, I may not go to finishing school if I can convince my father to let me go to Bringdon.”

The silence that startled through the kitchen astounded her. They all looked up from their work, even the kitchen boys who were prepping for dinner stopped. She glanced around, wondering why everyone was acting as if they remembered the war and all the death. She felt sweat at the back of her neck at the thought that one of them did remember.

The head cook gasped, “But…why would you want to go up north to Bringdon?” he frowned, “Tis not fit at all. No, lady Immor. You should go to school where it is safe.”

Immor chuckled softly, remembering the rumors that Bringdon was far away and very barbaric, “I think you are very mistaken. The culture is not very different. They dress warmer than we do, but their summers are heated just as ours are. They have the same system in place, though their lower and middle class have a larger chance to move through castes.”

The baker sighed as she shook her head, “If you say so, my lady. I would be worried if I was you.”

The head cook scoffed as he got to work on writing up the dinner menu, “If I was your father, I would say no to your going. Being in Bringdon alone? That is not a decent thing to do.”

Immor shrugged her shoulders, “Well, Nahlaya cannot come with me.”

Confusion flashed across the cook's faces, but the head cook shook it off first and said, “You will take a maid with you.”

“True,” she said, wondering why they did not leap on a chance to talk about her sister, the cooks always seemed to have some sort of complaint about Nahlaya, “I will be going with Prince Herron though, and I met him earlier this year at finishing school. We get along very well.”

The baker shrugged her round shoulders, “If you say so, your ladyship. I do hope you know what you are doing.”

She cleared her throat, “Speaking of which, have any of you seen Nahlaya this morning?”

The head cook exchanged a look with the baker, but it was one of confusion, before he turned back to her, “Begging your pardon, my lady. But who are you referring to?”

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