Roberson, Jennifer - Final Exam

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Final Exam

by Jennifer Roberson

He was, she thought, a rather ordinary man. Certainly unremarkable in looks, although his eyes were

rather nice. Warm, brown eyes, but just a trifle myopic; he peered back at her worriedly. She found this

rather amusing, in view of the circumstances.

A distinctly common young man, she thought, nodding to herself. Nice eyes, yes, but then eyes

weren't everything, were they? His other attributes, such as they were, were clearly nondescript. Mousy

brown hair (clean but in need of cutting); features of a distinctly average cast (although the nose was a

bit too long); and the height and weight of at least half a hundred men who inhabited her father's castle,

which made him utterly ordinary and not in the least heroic.

But then, he wasn't a hero, so she supposed it didn't matter.

She chewed her bottom lip, thinking of her father. No doubt he would worry, once he came round to

it. After all, his youngest daughter had disappeared through no fault of her own. It was entirely likely

right at this very moment he was summoning up all the royal armies, since there was nothing else for

them to do and setting them to the task ofcombing the woods for her, threatening whippings for one and

all if they didn't turn her up. Well, they wouldn't. He had made sure of that. He. He sat there peering at

her myopically, wondering, now that he had her, what to do with her. She sighed. Rearranged her skirts.

Crossed her legs beneath the table and gazed straight back at him. He also sighed. He didn't know what

to say. And so he said the very first thing he could think of: "You arc a virgin, aren't you?" At home she

would have been shocked, because being shocked was expected of her. But she wasn't at home at present

and therefore the expected responses were completely unnecessary, which meant she could say whatever

she felt. What she felt was laughter; this wasn't what she had been warned by all of her chamber ladies to

expect from ravishers. Supposedly, ravishers never asked such things, regarding virginity as

unimportant, since, if she were one, she wouldn't be for much longer, and therefore it really didn't

matter. But he hadn't ravished her yet. She lifted red eyebrows (not auburn; red) in the eloquent manner

she had been most carefully taught. The peculiarly feminine language of elegantly arched brows was

meant to convey carefully measured, outraged condescension. But she hadn't practiced much, and she

wasn't very good at it; besides, her eyebrows always mutinied and remained rebel-liously straight. Still,

it was up to her to try; her women had labored so hard. "I beg your pardon?" She used the fluting,

plummy tones all the other ladies of rank employed. He blinked, reddened, attempted to loosen the high

collar of his wheat-colored apprentice's tunic. "I'm sorry. I'm not doing this very well. I'm new at it, you

see . . . you're my first victim."

"Am I?" She brightened. She was never first in anything, having four sisters in front of her. He

nodded gravely. "But I had to ask, you know. The spell requires a virgin."

"Spell?" She brightened still more. "You mean-magic?"

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Roberson, Jennifer - Final Exam

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