Cutting Words
CW: transphobia; self-harm
Adelaide was no more than 20 feet down the hall when she heard Plum’s door open behind her.
“Addie,” she heard Plum’s voice call from behind her. She didn’t react.
“Adelaide!” Plum said again, louder this time.
Adelaide whipped around, tears stinging in her eyes, and Plum stopped in her tracks. Her eyes were wide and Adelaide thought she could see a slight tremble to her lip. She had a blanket wrapped around her to cover her body but was otherwise naked. Adelaide would have been flustered were she not so angry.
“I suppose I know why I’ve not seen you in days, then,” Adelaide spat the words like she tasted bile.
“Adelaide, I-” Plum began.
“Stop calling me that here!”
“‘Tis not what you think-”
“What I think? Do you even know what I think? I do not even know what I think right now. I have been worried half to death about you and it seems you’ve not even thought of me.”
“‘Tis not-”
“Did you even think about what Laszlo showed us? I thought you were at least thinking about the harm-”
“Stop it!” Plum shouted, and Adelaide flinched. “Just stop, for a moment. Please.”
Adelaide rocked back on her heels and squeezed her eyes shut to force the tears down. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, and to her horror she saw that there were tears in Plum’s eyes as well.
“Ad- Bra-” she made a frustrated noise and shook her head. “I… did not know what to do. Millie came to me-” Adelaide scoffed. “She came to me,” Plum said again. “‘Tis just a tryst, it means little to me.”
She took another deep breath before continuing. “I remember what Bernie said to us. I’ve not been able to stop remembering it. But what am I supposed to do with this? I felt so scared and alone and you…” she trailed off as her eyes looked anywhere but at Adelaide. “I could not be a burden to you.”
“A burden? Is that what you think you are?”
“No! I… not always. But I worry that I shall be.”
Adelaide shook her head. “If that is truly your worry, then you do not know me at all.” She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. “Go back to your little girlfriend, Plum. I need to be alone.”
“No, wait,” Plum pleaded. “Do not leave me, Adelaide, please, I-”
“I need to be alone,” Adelaide said again, and spun on her heels. As she walked away, she heard the sounds of Plum’s stifled sobs filling the hall behind her. The sound wrenched at her heart, but her anger proved to be stronger, and she stormed through the halls alone.
Adelaide soon found herself back at the west courtyard. The site of their lesson with Laszlo was still and serene in the cool night air. The moonlight made the white paved stones of the paths look nearly luminescent, and stars peering through the red leaves of the tree gave Adelaide a strange feeling of comfort. The roses had begun to bloom, and the smell of the clean night air mingled with the smell of the petals.
Adelaide wandered over to one of the benches and sat heavily on it. She sighed deeply before raising her knees and resting her forehead on them, hugging her legs close to her chest. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, waiting for the pounding of her heart to slow.
“Ah, Prince-Adept,” said a familiar voice. Brandon jumped and sprang to his feet, his hand reaching for his wand, before he even consciously recognized it.
Laszlo raised his hands in a gesture of peace, and his moustache twitched as he smiled at Brandon. “Peace, friend,” he said calmly, slowly lowering his hands. “I mean no harm.” His raven fluttered into the boughs of the maple with a soft croak.
“Sir Laszlo,” Brandon said, letting himself collapse back onto the bench. “‘Tis quite late to be wandering the grounds.”
“Indeed,” Laszlo said with a knowing smile. “May I sit?”
Brandon nodded wordlessly, and Laszlo seated himself on the bench opposite Brandon and dug in his vest pocket for a small, cloth-bound journal and charcoal pencil. With a wave of his hand, Brandon felt that staticky feeling in the back of his head, and a small, pale-blue light appeared above Laszlo’s shoulder. The light was dim enough that it wasn’t perturbing in the dark night of the courtyard, but bright enough that Brandon could make out the creases at the corner of Laszlo’s mouth as he regarded Brandon.
“I oft’ find my nights troubled and sleepless,” he explained as he flipped open the journal. “Some time alone to draw or write always clears my head.” He glanced up as his raven fluttered from branch to branch in the boughs of the tree. “Folnir appreciates the fresh air, too,” he said with a gesture at his familiar.
Brandon made a non-committal noise as Laszlo unsheathed his charcoal pen and began to sketch something. Brandon absently chewed at the skin around his thumbnail as the two sat in silence for a while.
“I had a husband, you know,” Laszlo said suddenly. Brandon only jumped slightly—he’d half-forgotten Laszlo was even there.
“A husband?” Brandon replied, trying and failing to hide the shock in his voice.
“A husband,” Laszlo repeated. “We married nearly thirty-five summers ago, so a man wedding a man was… unconventional, but I’d had enough of denying myself.” He blew some charcoal dust off of his journal before continuing on. “Arthur was the kindest man I’d ever met. He saw the good in everyone, and he made me want to do the same. He meant the world to me.”
“What happened?”
“He died.” Laszlo smiled sadly. “There is so much that I wish I could say to him, so much I wish I could do with him. There is never enough time with the ones we love.” He gestured with his hand again, and the blue light floated to the other side of his head.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Brandon said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I thank you, Prince-Adept,” Laszlo replied, “but I prefer to be grateful for the time I did have with Arthur. ‘Tis what he would have wanted.”
Brandon thought for a moment. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
“Why indeed,” Laszlo replied, his eyes intently focused on his drawing. “I spent more than long enough hiding who I was, before Arthur. ‘Twas painful, and difficult, but it left me with a profound ability to know when others are hiding themselves just as I was.” He raised his eyes and met Brandon’s, and Brandon felt his heart leap to his throat.
“You- I- what?” he stammered out, the hairs on his arms standing on end.
Laszlo’s smile softened. “Worry not, my lady.” Brandon’s heart felt like it was about to burst. “I’ve no intention of revealing my knowledge to anyone. I only wish to tell you that you and Plumeria are not alone.”
Adelaide floundered, and time seemed to slow as her mind raced. How could he know? she thought, poring over every possible way she could have been found out and finding none.
“I- how did you know?” Adelaide asked lamely.
“‘Twas just a feeling, at first,” Laszlo said. “Your relationship with Plumeria was… familiar to me. ‘Twas not hard to piece together the rest.” Laszlo smiled warmly. “My friend Theodoric is like you,” he said. “I am certain he would love to meet you in Algaran.”
Adelaide felt like her cheeks were on fire. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sounds came out. This had been her worst case scenario for so long, but now… it felt uniquely beautiful to be seen.
“Have you chosen a name?” Laszlo asked softly.
“I- um, Adelaide,” she replied. Her name felt strange on her tongue—she probably hadn’t said it aloud in years.
Laszlo smiled. “‘Tis a beautiful name.” He scribbled one last thing on the page of the journal he’d been drawing on, tore it out gently, and handed it to Adelaide. She took it, and saw that it was a portrait of herself, with the words “Adelaide Vermillion” drawn underneath in Laszlo’s spidery hand.
“Adelaide,” Laszlo said, and Adelaide felt herself flush. “If I may give a small piece of advice?” Adelaide squeaked out an affirmative.
“This secret is no small matter,” Laszlo continued. “If this information were to fall inot the hands of those who might wish to take advantage of you…” he trailed off. “Take care that you guard your secret closely.” He stood and took a step towards Adelaide. “And remember that the best lies are closest to the truth.” He smiled.
“I am leaving on the morrow,” he said after a moment. “But I want you to remember that the Fifth Law will always welcome you with open arms. Our halls are yours, should you need them.” He placed a hand gently on Adelaide’s shoulder and gave a soft nod. “Good night, my lady,” he said. Then he turned and was gone, Folnir close behind. Adelaide was left once again alone with her thoughts, but now those thoughts echoed with the sound of her name on another’s lips.
She looked down at the portrait of herself. It was strange, to see herself as another saw her. In the portrait, her hair was down, and flowed loosely around her shoulders. She thought perhaps that Laszlo had taken some liberties with the shape of her face, making it a bit softer and gentler. The image filled her with a strange sense of longing, as if this was not simply a drawing but a reflection of the person she knew herself to be.
A drop of rain fell onto the paper and she glanced up at the cloudless sky. Another drop narrowly missed the paper, and then she felt a tickle on her cheeks. It wasn’t raining, she was crying. Adelaide sniffled and wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. She gently folded the paper and tucked it into her sash, in the pocket next to her wand. She sniffled again and stood, the cool night air quickly drying her face. Straightening her shoulders, Adelaide strode back into the halls of the Vermillion Keep, assured in the knowledge that, if nothing else, someone else could see her for her.
After wandering the grounds for a while longer, Adelaide eventually forced herself to return to her chambers. She anticipated a sleepless night, but the labour of the past few days hit her like a weight as soon as her head hit the pillow. She woke at about seventh hour—sleeping in, by her standards—and went about her morning routine as usual. She made her way down to the kitchens to get breakfast for herself and for Plum. No matter how angry she was, she wasn’t about to let her go hungry.
Walking to the kitchens, Brandon noticed a distinct change in the way the servants were acting. Over the past few days, they’d begun to treat him with what seemed to be a grudging respect. He had been making a deliberate effort not just to help them, but to know them personally, and it seemed like it was beginning to pay off. The hushed whispers and cautious deference had shifted into nods of respect, and even occasionally the warmth of a smile.
Now, though, that all seemed to have vanished overnight. Walking down the hall to the kitchens, Brandon saw a pair of scullion girls that he knew as Jane and Ida, and greeted them with a smile. The two girls had smiled back at him only yesterday, but now they averted their eyes and dissolved into hushed whispers. Strain as he might, Brandon couldn’t make out the words, but the experience unsettled him nonetheless.
This was the pattern for the rest of his morning: greet the servants, only for them to whisper and look away as if in shame. By the time he made it to the kitchens, Brandon was deeply unsettled.
As he approached the kitchens, a pair of servants exited ahead of him. He recognized Bernie, the scullion worker, and he was with a male servant that Brandon hadn’t met yet. This time, he’d prepared for the now-expected whispering.
With a wave of his hand, Brandon channeled his dawn magic. He drew on his own red mana, took it into himself, and felt it change as he pushed it back out and towards his ears. He focused, and as he did he felt the sounds surrounding him intensify. He could hear the creaking of the door, the crackling of the ovens, and—most importantly—he could make out fragments of the whispers that Bernie was exchanging with the other servant.
“-wearing a dress-”
“-like a woman-”
“-buggerer-”
Brandon felt the blood drain from his face. A pit of dread had formed at the base of his stomach, but now it grew and threatened to swallow him whole. Laszlo finding out had been horrifying enough, but the entire Keep? Brandon had no idea what to do. He realized he’d been stopped in his tracks for several minutes when another pair of servants exited the kitchens and gave the same hushed whispers. He quickly dispelled his dawn magic and spun on his heel and hurried back to his chambers faster than he ever had.
Adelaide locked the door behind her, her eyes darting around her room. Her heart was pounding hard enough that it felt ready to leap from her chest, and she felt tears stinging in her eyes. She staggered over to a chair, breathing heavily, and collapsed into it. She let her head fall between her knees, gasping for air as the tears rolled freely down her face. She was panicking, and she knew it, but she couldn’t slow the racing of her heart. Everything was too much. Laszlo’s lessons, the argument with her mother, her fighting with Plum, and now this… Adelaide’s mind reached desperately for any source of comfort and found none.
Adelaide slumped to the ground and pulled her knees up tightly to her chin. Her shoulders heaved with her breaths and hitched with her sobs, and she half-crawled to her bedside table. She pulled the drawer open, reached inside, and withdrew a small, sharp knife that she kept there, allegedly for self-defense. Hyperventilating, she yanked her sleeve up and dragged the blade across her skin.
The pain shot through her mind like a bolt of lightning. A white shock of pain flashed across her vision, and she heaved another sob as the jagged red line on her forearm began to weep along with her.
As the pain faded to a sharp sting, Adelaide felt her mind clear. The pain of the cut had shocked her brain out of panic and given her a chance to think clearly, if only for a few moments.
What should I do? she thought furiously. Should I find a way to stop the rumours? Plum would- she shook her head vigorously. She was still mad at Plum.
She could deny it, double down on “masculinity.” That would hurt to do, but it would keep her safe, and Plum would-
No! she thought again. Plum wasn’t an option right now.
She could run away, go somewhere else, and leave this life behind. She had no idea where she’d go or what she’d do, but then she wouldn’t have to live this lie anymore. And she had no doubts that Plum would come with her-
“Fuck!” Adelaide said out loud. No matter what solution she thought she came to, it always involved Plum, and thinking of Plum brought that whole host of ugly and complicated emotions bubbling back up to the surface. Adelaide’s eyes darted towards the blade again.
Frustrated, and still aware of the stinging pain in her wrist, Adelaide drew her wand to third position and tried to write a sigil to heal herself. Her runes were shaky and her circle sloppy, so when she tried to draw on the surrounding mana of the glowlamps and plants surrounding her she felt the unfortunately familiar snap as her spell failed. She tried again—snap—and again and again—snap, snap—and let out a frustrated yell. The tears were rolling down her face again, and the blood was still coming.
Adelaide ripped a throw blanket off of her bed and wrapped it around her wrist to soak up the blood. She realized, distantly, that she might’ve cut too deep. It didn’t usually bleed this badly, but a small puddle had already formed where her arm had been dangling.
Adelaide stood with a lurch and stumbled to the door. Her head was swimming as she opened the door and stumbled down the hall towards Plum’s room. It seemed so far away. Her vision started to fuzz around the edges and she teetered into the wall next to the door. She weakly knocked a few times as her vision fully faded to black and she toppled to the floor. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was hearing Plum’s voice, gasping in horror, and the distant, warm feeling of her hands pulling her inside.
Adelaide’s eyes fluttered open to the flickering and unfamiliar light of a candle. She looked for a moment at the ceiling—not her ceiling—and let herself feel the too-soft pillow beneath her head. The smell of the scented candle mingled with the familiar floral-and-wood scent of Plum’s perfume. She realized that she was draped delicately in Plum’s bed.
Adelaide shot up to a sitting position and immediately regretted her decision as her head swam. She sank back onto the pillow as a familiar hand touched her forearm—the one that she’d hurt.
Adelaide met Plum’s eyes. Her companion’s dark eyes sat underneath brows furrowed with concern. Plum’s wand was on the bedside table where she’d left it, presumably just after healing Adelaide’s wrist. For a precious few moments, the events of the last few days were forgotten, and Adelaide basked in the feeling of her oldest friend’s presence.
It didn’t last. The anger and pain came rushing back in as Adelaide’s head cleared, and she yanked her arm away from Plum’s hand. Plum flinched as if struck, and Adelaide felt a part of her heart ache.
“Adelaide, I-”
“Save it,” Adelaide cut her off. “I do not want to hear it right now.” She flexed her fingers and examined her wrist. “But, I… thank you.”
“What happened?”
“I did it to myself.”
“On purpose?”
“Yes. ‘Twas a bad habit I thought I’d kicked.” Adelaide gave a wry smile.
Plum’s brow furrowed deeper. “Why?”
“They know, Plum,” Adelaide responded simply.
Plum’s gaze darkened. “Who knows?” she asked, her hand already reaching for her wand.
“I am unsure. Everyone, I presume. I overheard the servants talking about it. I know not how but they know and I know not what to do.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Laszlo knows too, but he has already departed. Besides, I trust him.”
“You trust him?” Plum asked, incredulous.
“I do. ‘Tis not the point right now. I know not what to do, Plum. I… I need your help.”
“You shall have it. I am yours, Adelaide, forever and always.”
Adelaide nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I am still mad at you, though. This does not change that.”
“I know.” Adelaide could hear the regret in Plum’s voice.
“Once this is done, we have much to talk about.”
“I know.”
“I do not approve of how you have conducted yourself.”
“I know, Adelaide.”
Adelaide nodded curtly. “Well,” she began. “What do I-”
She was interrupted by a knock at the door. She glanced at Plum, who simply shook her head in the negative.
“Can I help you?” Plum called out after a few moments of uneasy silence.
“Mistress Delora?” came an unfamiliar voice from outside the door. “The Duchess-Archmagician wishes to meet with you and the Prince-Adept.”
Adelaide and Plum glanced at each other. After a nod from Adelaide, Plum answered.
“Very well,” she called to the voice on the other side of the door. “I shall fetch my fellow Adept and meet with her as soon as possible.”
“She said ‘tis urgent, milady. I’m not to take no for an answer.”
“‘Tis not a no, sirrah,” Plum answered, and then sighed. “We shall be right out.”
“I have been instructed to wait here, milady.”
“Yes, yes, very well.” Plum looked back to Adelaide with concern. “Are you well enough to walk?”
Adelaide sat up cautiously and rolled her neck. “I shall be fine,” she said after a moment. She stood, and wobbled for a moment. Plum reached out to steady her, but Adelaide stuck out a hand to stop her.
Plum’s brow was still furrowed as she regarded Adelaide. “I shall be with you,” she said softly. “No matter what.”
Adelaide smiled softly. “I know.” She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and began mentally preparing herself to pretend, again, to be the man she could never be. She took a step towards the door and glanced over her shoulder at Plum. “Shall we?”
Cambria's Corner 
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