Chapter 3: Emily and the Lady of the Manor

In a forest clearing, covered by a canopy of tall, ancient trees and cut across by a babbling brook, Emily stood with her eyes closed. She focused on the Stoneshell around her neck, concentrating on the weight of the pendant against her chest, and listened for Aria’s instructions.

“Have you cleared your mind?” Aria asked.

Emily nodded.

“Good. Now, feel the earth beneath your feet,” Aria continued, sounding like a yoga instructor. “Draw from its stability and anchor yourself to its strength. Plant yourself.”

Emily wiggled her toes, feeling the softness of the grass and the firmness of the soil beneath it. Her hair was tied back, so as not to disturb her concentration. She felt the wind’s caress against her skin and hardened her stance, digging her feet in. She was unyielding, immovable, in complete control. And she was naked, as she had been for most of this adventure so far.

Her cloak and boots lay a few yards away, surrounded by a protective rock formation. Emily had no desire to lose any more clothes to the Stoneshell’s unpredictable flames, especially not during practise.

“Now,” Aria’s voice continued, smooth as silk, “imagine the Stoneshell’s power as a small ember within you, glowing but controlled.”

Emily held the picture in her mind’s eye and felt a corresponding warmth against her chest.

“Open your eyes,” said Aria. “Now, direct the Stoneshell’s power to the palm of your hand.”

Emily held out a hand in front of her and stared at her outstretched palm. Maintaining her focus on the small, glowing ember in her mind’s eye, she pushed it forward, from her chest and into her arm, down her arm and into the palm of her hand. A flame appeared in the air just above her palm. It flickered slightly in the soft breeze. Its warmth was soft and pleasant, and Emily knew it would not burn her. At its base, Emily could see the faint outline of a shell.

“Good,” Aria said, a smile cracking her stone countenance. “Now extinguish it.”

Emily took a deep breath, picturing the flame being enveloped by a cool breeze. It vanished instantly.

“Well done, Emily!” Aria said.

“Yes!” Emily cried, pumping a fist in the air. As she did so, small flames exploded upwards from between her fingers. “Woah! I didn’t—”

“Emotions, Emily! Be careful with your emotions!”

Emily blushed, recalling the scene at the inn. “S—sorry.”

Aria’s expression was stern, with a hint of worry in her eye. “It is a simple matter to conjure small, controled flames in a peaceful and secluded setting such as this, with time to empty your mind and calm your nerves. But circumstances may not always be so favorable.”

“Sh—should I try to remain calm and emotionless all the time?” asked Emily, eyeing the tendrils of smoke rising from her outstretched hand.

“No, that will not be possible,” said Aria. “You must merely learn to be conscious of the Stoneshell and to separate your emotions from it. Know when it is engaged and be mindful. This is a good lesson in that regard.”

Emily bit her lip.

Aria paced the clearing. “Every action, every emotion is a spark, Emily. The Stoneshell amplifies these sparks. Controlled, they can be a warm campfire, a guiding lantern in the dark or a powerful weapon against danger. Uncontrolled, they’re a wildfire.”

Emily took a moment to absorb this, looking at the pendant. It was still warm against her skin. “But there were times I felt strong emotions and yet nothing happened.” She thought of Brevin the traveling merchant and of the troll at the river.

Aria pointed towards the pendant. “The Stoneshell has its own will but is especially responsive to immediate threats or extreme distress. Once engaged in the manner we just practised, it will remain active.”

Emily gazed at her fingertips. A small flame appeared hovering just above each one. She shook her hand to extinguish them. “This is a lot to take in.”

“With time and patience, you will come to wield the Stoneshell with complete intentionality,” said Aria. “Of that I have no doubt. Now, reclaim your calm, and disengage the Stoneshell. Imagine a sudden downpour, which extinguishes all flames.”

Emily closed her eyes and imagined rain. As she focused on the falling droplets, the Stoneshell began to cool. She did not reopen her eyes until it returned to an inert stone. “I’ve disengaged,” she said.

Aria nodded. “Good. Let us rest a while and eat.”

The picnic basket which had been given to Aria by the bartender was nestled among the rocks, with Emily’s clothes. Emily took the cloak and spread it out on the grass like a picnic blanket, on which she sat cross-legged and enjoyed a lunch of smoked meats and freshly baked bread, washed down with a flask of apple cider. Aria stood watch at her side. Though quite capable of sitting down, she found it more comfortable to stand.

When she was finished eating, Emily shook out her cloak and pulled it around herself, retiring to a seated position against one of the rocks. It was good to have something to wear again, even if it was a bit scratchy. “We should try to make some money at the next village we come to,” she said to Aria. “I’m sure we’ll be able to assist a baker, or a seamstress, or just run errands for someone. Then I can buy a proper dress and some underthings.”

Aria furrowed her brow. “In my previous life, I never worried for money, so I must admit that I have little experience with it. But I am sure you are right. Perhaps we could even buy a horse!”

Emily grimaced. Though Aria was her ancient and wise guide in this unfamiliar world, knowledgeable in many areas, it would fall to Emily to navigate the economy for the both of them. She didn’t want to think how many years of baking bread or darning socks would be needed to afford something as extravagant as a horse.

“Let us continue your training,” said Aria, deeming Emily sufficiently rested.

Emily nodded and shrugged off her cloak, mentally preparing to access the Stoneshell’s fire once more as she strode towards the center of the clearing.

Over the next few days, Emily and Aria journeyed through an ever-changing landscape. Dense, shadowy woods gave way to sprawling meadows awash with the colors of wildflowers. Then the meadows transitioned into open plains, where tall grasses swayed with the wind like waves in an emerald sea. Emily was grateful for her cloak, but grew tired of holding it closed while nobody was around and would allow it to hang at her sides. What she would give for a few safety pins!

Once the contents of the picnic basket were finished, Emily subsisted on a diet of berries and other fruits. The land was bountiful and always seemed to provide more than she needed any time she became hungry. She slept under the stars, wrapped up in her cloak, with Aria standing watch.

They passed the odd fence or stone ruin, but seldom saw any other sign of civilization. On a good day, they might spy a farmhouse in the far distance. Castle Elid, Aria mentioned, was nestled in the most remote and sparsely populated area of Thessolan. This is what had allowed it to be forgotten for so many centuries.

On the sixth evening since their departure from the castle, as they crested a grassy knoll, Aria slowed her pace and pointed out a distant structure.

“Do you see that, Emily? Beyond the grove of trees?”

Emily squinted against the bright morning sun. A stately manor house came into view, surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges, which were themselves flanked by groves of regularly planted trees.

“That is Odonata Manor,” Aria said. “Before I was turned to stone, I was great friends with the lady of that house. It is remarkable how little it has changed. Although I have no doubt that Isolde is long dead.”

“I’m sorry, Aria,” Emily said, opening her cloak to rest a hand on Aria’s shoulder.

“Thank you, my dear, but I have had many centuries to grieve those I once knew,” Aria replied. “I carry the sadness still, but it does not affect me as it once did. I only point it out to ask if you would like to visit. I am certain that Lady Isolde’s descendants will be warm and hospitable.”

The thought of a proper bed and a hot meal was enticing, but Emily was skeptical. “Do you think they still live there?” Emily asked. “And if they do, would anyone recognize your name?”

“I believe they would,” replied Aria. “Lady Isolde was greatly in my debt, and it was a debt she never repaid. She promised me the eternal loyalty and friendship of the Odonata line.”

Emily looked wistfully at the manor, imagining the luxuries inside. “I hope they remember that promise.” She held the sides of her cloak together tightly from the inside.

Twenty minutes of walking took the duo through the neat orchard and in sight of the manor’s grand entrance. Tall hedge rows flanked the path up to a pair of enormous wooden doors set into a stone archway. A large crest had been carved into the door, dominated by a dragonfly with its wings outstreched.

“The Odonata family crest,” Aria remarked, taking the metal knocker in her stone fingers and tapping it against the door.

Emily heard the sound of shuffling footsteps from behind the doors. They opened a crack, in which the round rosy-cheeked face of a short, stout woman appeared. She turned her eyes from Aria to Emily, causing the latter to pull her cloak closer to herself. “Can I help you?” the lady asked.

“Good day,” said Aria. “I am Lady Aria of Castle Elid. Centuries ago, I was a close friend and confidante of Lady Isolde of this great house of Odonata. She gave me her word and the word of her family that I would always be welcome here. I am traveling with a single companion.”

The door immediately slammed shut and Aria’s eyes widened in surprise. Emily’s heart sank as she bitterly resigned herself to sleeping under the stars once more. Aria shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up like that.

But before either woman said anything to the other, they found themselves jumping backwards as the manor’s grand doors were flung open to reveal a grand foyer. Lush carpets blanketed the floor, ornate multicoloured tapestries hung from the walls and large chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A large staircase dominated the room, at the top of which was an enormous painting set into a golden frame, depicting two life-size women.

One had raven-black hair, intricately braided, and piercing forest green eyes. She wore a gown of shimmering blue and green fabric. Among her jewelery, a dragonfly pendant stood out most prominently. Beside her stood a more plainly dressed lady, tall and elegant with wavy blonde hair and cheerful blue eyes. This second lady wore a white gown and rested a hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Lady Isolde,” Aria said, speaking scarcely louder than a whisper.

Emily gasped as she realized that in this painting, she was seeing Aria as she had been before. “And you!” she blurted out.

“Yes,” Aria said sadly. “Just as I was.”

Emily and Aria had been so focused on the painting that they hadn’t noticed the woman in front of them until she cleared her throat. She was older than the woman they’d met before, and wore a gown in the same colors as Lady Isolde, though it was of a different cut. Her hair was the same raven black as the painting but streaked with gray and worn up, and her eyes were a striking golden color.

“Lady Aria,” she said, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Lady Elara, a direct descendant of Lady Isolde, the greatest of our line. House Odonata has not forgotten your service to her, though many years have passed. It will be my honor to host you and your companion. Please, enter.”

Emily and Aria slowly walked into the foyer, looking around at its opulence with wide eyes. A hot meal, a hot bath and a comfortable bed awaited Emily for the first time since she had arrived in this world. Perhaps the Odonata family’s hospitality might even extend to providing her with a dress, once she explained her need of one. She fancied that she would look quite fetching in a shimmering green and blue gown, though even a simple servant’s dress would satisfy her.

“Please,” said Lady Elara, “make yourselves at home.” As she said this, she produced a small golden bell from the folds of her dress and rang it. A small, clear tinkle sounded across the foyer, and immediately there was a sound of shuffling feet. “Let the servants take your cloak.”

Emily’s face reddened at the suggestion. “Oh no, that won’t be—” But before she could even finish protesting, she felt gentle hands against her back, followed by the rough sensation of thick fabric sliding away from her skin. “—necessary!”

Emily glanced over her shoulder in a panic, but the servant had already disappeared, along with her cloak. She hurriedly drew an arm over her breasts and placed a hand before her crotch, blushing and squirming in the presence of the regal Lady Elara.

“You are much changed, Lady Aria,” said Elara, appearing not to notice Emily’s plight. “I detect the work of a mage.”

“Yes, I and the whole of Castle Elid was placed under a curse which turned us to stone and trapped us for hundreds of years. It is thanks to the brave efforts of my companion, Emily, who comes from another world, that the curse has lifted enough for me to leave the castle halls.”

Elara nodded and glanced at Emily. “And in this other world, do the people go about without clothing?”

“N—no!” Emily stammered, withering under Elara’s gaze. “D—definitely not.”

“Ah, then you are an eccentric,” said Elara.

“Not really! Just unlucky! Can I have my cloak back?”

“Emily was transported to this world unawares, while she was taking a bath,” Aria interjected. “Castle Elid had nothing to clothe her, and, having no money, we have been unable to find much else since our departure. Please do not take her state of undress as a sign of disrespect, Lady Elara.”

“I see,” said Elara. “I will have the servants prepare an outfit for you. But first, let us eat!” Elara spun around on her heels and beckoned her guests to follow her.

Aria took a tentative step forward before looking at Emily, who stood firmly rooted to the spot, the blush spreading from her face down through her shoulders. Halfway across the enormous room, Elara stopped and looked behind her, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“S—sorry, ma’am, b—but I’d really like my cloak back now,” Emily said, almost more embarrassed to be asking such a question than to be standing naked in the middle of the room.

A peal of laughter issued from Elara. “That ratty old thing? The servants will already have started washing it by now.”

Emily’s mouth hung open in disbelief. She hadn’t even seen the servant who disrobed her, so swift and silent had they been.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have it in your quarters by morning, along with some proper clothes. For now, let us eat, drink and be merry!”

“B—by morning?” Emily stammered.

“These things take time, even with magic,” Elara said, winking slyly. “Now come along, dear, the food will be getting cold. We’re all girls here, you haven’t got anything we’ve not seen before.”

Emily looked to Aria for assistance, but the latter merely shrugged. A timely growl from Emily’s stomach made the thought of a hot dinner quite appealing, even if she would prefer not to eat it naked.

Sighing inwardly, Emily tentatively stepped forward, keeping her arms around herself for cover. After a few days of having the cloak for cover, nudity had lost its familiarity, and the piercing gaze of Lady Elara’s golden eyes didn’t make her feel any better. It was one thing to be naked in the forest, with only Aria to see her, and quite another to be naked in a stately home before its opulently dressed owner. In these surroundings, Emily would have felt underdressed in a T-shirt and shorts—in just her skin, she felt barely human.

“Please leave those boots in the hall if you would,” said Lady Elara, glancing back again. “They’re in even more need of cleaning than the cloak.”

Emily looked down and realized to her great horror that she had been leaving muddy bootprints on the foyer carpet. “S—sorry!” she squealed, scrambling to untie her boots.

“Do not fret, the servants will be along to clean any mess,” Elara added.

The carpet was soft and luxurious against Emily’s bare feet, which made no sound as she followed Elara and Aria through an archway into a large dining room. The room was dominated by an enormous banquet table, easily large enough to seat twenty. Three plates were laid out at one end.

Elara took her place at the head of the table, and Emily and Aria sat at the chairs on either side of her. There was a scraping noise as Aria sat down—this was not something she was accustomed to doing.

The seat cushion was soft and comfortable under Emily’s bare bottom, and the meal in front of her looked and smelled delicious. Once Elara had bade her to begin eating, she tentatively reached for the knife and fork on either side of her plate, releasing her breasts from the tight grip of her arms.

“I am afraid this food is wasted on me, Lady Elara, for I have not eaten since I was turned to stone,” Aria said, looking mournfully down at her plate.

“A pity,” replied Elara, taking up her own knife and fork. “But were you not stone, I may never have had the pleasure of your acquaintance. We can take solace in that, as you tell me of Lady Isolde.”

Emily devoured her meal as politely as she could, savoring the taste of cooked meat and vegetables. By focusing on her food, she could ignore the awkwardness of the situation and gain some enjoyment from it.

But when she looked up again, in mid-bite, Elara was staring at her chest. She froze, mortified but too polite to cover up. The stare made her feel every inch of her exposed skin.

“That’s a beautiful necklace, Emily,” said Elara, for she had really been staring at the Stoneshell. “Does it come from your world?”

“No,” Aria interjected. “That is the Stoneshell. It is the magical artifact Emily recovered that freed the statues of Castle Elid from bondage. She braved great dangers to retrieve it from the Labyrinthine Pool.”

“The Stoneshell...” Elara repeated, eyes narrowing on the pendant. “Does it do anything else?”

As if in answer to Elara’s question, a plume of flame erupted from the pendant, shooting straight up to the ceiling. Elara, who had been leaning forward, shot back into her chair, eyes wide.

“Eeep!” Emily cried, blushing furiously.

Lady Elara quickly got over her initial shock. “Marvelous! Instant fire, without burning the wearer. But please, warn me next time.”

“Emily is still learning to control the Stoneshell’s power,” Aria said. “I have been training her.”

“Such powerful magic, wielded by one so young and untutored,” Elara mused, giving Emily a stern glance. “It is no wonder you have trouble staying clothed, with fires exploding from your chest.”

Emily demurrly placed a forearm in front of her breasts. “I—it’s one reason, yes.”

“She has been training in the nude,” Aria added. “Directing the flame away from clothing will require immense control. But it will come. The Stoneshell chose Emily, after all.”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “Yes, magic is a mysterious thing.”

Once the meal was finished, Emily let out a large yawn, which immediately garnered a look of sympathy from Elara. “You must be tired, dear,” she said. “I will have a servant direct you to your quarters. Bessie!”

Soft, quick footsteps proceeded the reappearance of the servant who had greeted them at the door. She stood at Emily’s side, awaiting orders. Her expression was neutral, but quite forcedly so, and she kept stealing glances at the naked girl.

“Bessie, please show Miss Emily to her quarters. She is quite worn out and in need of a good night’s sleep. Don’t mind her dress just now, but do make certain to set something nice out for her to wear on the morrow. Goodnight Emily!”

Emily hesitated for a moment, looking at Aria, who smiled at her. “I have no need of sleep,” she said to Elara.

“Wonderful, then we shall both stay up and discuss my storied ancestor Isolde!” Elara said. “You would be bored to tears by the natter of two old ladies, Emily dear, and I wouldn’t want to keep you up. There’s a nice warm bed upstairs, and you’ll have the perfect dress in the morning, Bessie knows the one I mean. Goodnight!”

The thought of wrapping herself in a warm blanket was enough to persuade Emily to say goodnight to Elara and Aria and stand up from the table. “Thank you for the wonderful dinner, Lady Elara,” she said, keeping her voice steady as she prepared for another naked walk.

Emily followed the servant, Bessie, through the empty halls of the manor. “The other servants ‘ave gone to bed early, Mistress’s orders,” Bessie remarked. “I see why now. You’d cause something of a commotion, Miss Emily, ‘specially among the menfolk. Nearly fainted myself when I took your cloak and saw nothing underneath!”

“That was ... kind of her,” Emily said. Returning her cloak would have been a lot simpler, but this was the best she could hope for in lieu of that.

Emily was led to a room on the west wing of the manor. It was an expansive chamber, walls adorned with floral wallpaper. Deep mahogany woodwork framed the room, lending a rich contrast to the lighter walls. Tall, arched windows draped in soft, diaphanous curtains dominated one side of the room. Their design incorporated stained glass inlays depicting dragonflies.

In one corner stood an ornate wooden wardrobe, its doors carved with more dragonflies and vines. Opposite the wardrobe, a vanity table with an ornate mirror provided a space for personal grooming. The table was dotted with porcelain dishes filled with brushes, combs, and assorted vials of scented oils. Soft, braided rugs cushioned the stone floor. A stone fireplace was built into one wall, its mantel adorned with trinkets and keepsakes.

But what caught Emily’s eye most of all was the four-poster bed in the center of the room. Its frame was carved from the same dark wood as the trim. The mattress was covered in crisp white linen and a fluffy duvet. The pillows, following the overall theme, were embroidered with dragonfly patterns.

Emily confirmed by feel that the duvet was stuffed with down feathers as she pulled it off the bed and wrapped it around herself, holding it tight against her bare skin.

“Goodnight ma’am,” Bessie said. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight Bessie,” Emily said, collapsing onto the mattress the instant Bessie closed the door. With the duvet wrapped around her, she was warm, comfortable, safe and hidden from the eyes of the world.

Emily awoke to soft rays of sunlight spilling through the diaphanous curtains of her room. She was still wrapped in the duvet, which was a far more agreeable thing to sleep in than her scratchy cloak. Slowly, she pulled herself up to a sitting position, yawning and blinking the sleep out of her eyes. The duvet slipped to her waist as she surveyed the room.

While she was sleeping, the servants had brought in a claw-footed bathtub, which sat beside the fireplace. Inviting curls of steam rose off the water. Soaps, scrubbing brushes and various cleansing oils had also been provided.

The servants had also brought Emily’s promised outfit. On a chair near the door hung an assortment of garments—Emily saw petticoats, a corset and a light blue dress, complete with a bonnet, as well as a pair of stockings and buckled shoes. There was more clothing in this one outfit than she had worn at any time since arriving in Thessolan. Getting dressed may actually take some time, for a change.

Giddy at the prospect of proper clothes, Emily climbed out of bed and into the tub, where she vigorously scrubbed herself clean so that she would be fresh for the new outfit. Once done, she toweled herself off and sat down at the vanity table to brush her hair and apply makeup. How nice it would be to have makeup again!

Watching herself in the mirror made Emily self-conscious of her body. She’d been walking around just as she was now, for days, outside! Of course, she’d had the cloak recently, but she’d still stripped off regularly for Stoneshell practise. And before then ... so many people had seen her most intimate form, many more than she’d ever expected.

But that was over now. She had an outfit. As long as she was careful with the Stoneshell’s power, there was no reason it wouldn’t last. Maybe Lady Elara would even be generous enough to give her a spare set of clothes as well.

Emily missed her friends and family, and her own world, but the land of Thessolan excited her. The more time she spent here, the more she longed for adventure. But thoughts of adventure, of magic, of finding a way to return home, or helping Aria with whatever her mysterious quest was, all those thoughts had been sidelined by the discomfort of her strangely prolonged nudity. Now that that was behind her, the real adventure could finally begin.

As Emily stood up from the vanity table, she took one last pointed look in the mirror. “So long, flesh!”

Getting dressed was an involved process. Emily savored the feeling of fabric against her skin, of leather encasing her. Shift, petticoats, stockings, corset, dress, shoes, bonnet, she piled on the fabric until only her hands and face still showed. Then, smiling, she reached her hands behind her neck and pulled off the Stoneshell necklace.

No! A jolt of fear shot through Emily’s spine. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be removing the Stoneshell. There was an important reason to keep it on at all times. A very important reason, but one she couldn’t quite recall.

Emily wrapped the necklace around her fingers and walked out of her room, closing the door softly behind her. There was something more important than keeping the Stoneshell around her neck, and that was giving it to her mistress. She had just remembered that now, and would have to hurry so as not to disappoint her.

No ... that wasn’t right. Emily’s head throbbed beneath her new bonnet. Her legs moved forward down the hall, carrying her along as if they had a mind of their own.

Emily’s legs transported her to the dining room, where a smiling Lady Elara was ready to receive her, hands outstretched. “Good morning, Emily, I hope you slept well.”

“I slept wonderfully, Mistress!” Emily replied, her enthusiasm startling her. “I’m well rested and ready to serve! Here, you should have this.”

Emily’s hands shook as she held out the Stoneshell, but she held it out nonetheless. Grinning cruelly, Lady Elara snatched it from her palms, devouring it with her greedy eyes. “Thank you, my dear,” she said. “Now, Bessie will be wanting to see you in the scullery. Don’t keep her waiting!”

“Yes ma’am!” Emily replied, all but saluting Lady Elara.

As Emily left the dining room, a battle raged in her head. Something was terribly, horribly wrong, but she didn’t know what. She had just done something terrible, possibly unforgivable. But how could her mistress’s orders be either of those things? It was all very confusing. If only her mind wasn’t so full of cobwebs!

Emily’s mind spun in violent circles as she walked towards the scullery, her feet moving mechanically. She knew that she wasn’t in control of herself, but it seemed like a wall rose up in her mind every time she dwelled on that thought. Lady Elara was her mistress, good, kind and wise. She was a servant of the House of Odonata, which took good care of her. These were safe thoughts, thoughts that comforted her briefly, but they had no depth. She had no memories of serving Lady Elara, and did not even know where her feet were leading her in this enormous manor, which seemed to grow more sinister by the moment.

Tapestries and elegant paintings took on the appearance of cruel, mocking faces, while the eyes of the ancestral portraits following her every move. Emily forced her eyes forward and hurried her movements. Finally she came to the scullery, where Bessie was waiting for her.

The person of Bessie caused more confusion in Emily. She had met this person only yesterday, but was now being addressed in familiar terms and given orders by her.

“I see Sleeping Beauty has finally deigned to grace us with her presence,” Bessie said contemptuously. “You’re to sweep the kitchen and then dust the library. After that, mop the ballroom floor until you can see your reflection in it!”

“Yes ma’am!” Emily said at once, darting to the broom cupboard. Her movements were automatic, instinctual. She felt like a mere observer, watching her body move from the prison of her mind. But even her mind was not her own—her memories were inaccessible and her thoughts booby-trapped.