Lilyana
“Lily, wake up.”
No answer.
The words were sweet and gentle. They were her mother’s words—Coraline, daughter of Eidaline.
“Lilyana Coros. I’m not telling you again.”
Full name. She meant it. A little less gentle, but it didn’t detract from the lovely contralto of Cora’s voice.
“Yes, Mother.”
Lily’s own words came out barely above a whisper as she pulled the patchwork blanket over her head to steal just a few more seconds of darkness. If she had known it was the last time she would hear that voice, Lily would have kept the covers over her face just to hear her speak again. She would have treasured it. She would have savored it.
She would have . . .
She would have . . .
It didn’t matter. All that mattered now was her.
***
Lily fought off her sleepiness with a yawn and walked over to where her mother was finishing brushing her hair.
“Where are we going today?” she asked.
Coraline was looking in the polished silver mirror at the reflection of her and her daughter, two women separated by about twenty years and not much else.
“Well, aren’t we eager?” Coraline said with a laugh. She moved over and patted the worn cushion on her seat. “Why don’t we fix you up and I’ll tell you.”
Lily sat down and looked up into the eyes of her mother, framed by high cheekbones that made them stand out even more. She had trouble describing her mother’s face as anything but perfect, but Coraline’s soft jawline and delicate lips made more than a few men stop in their tracks and stare. Her looks were her most valuable asset, and she had no qualms about using them. She took care of the way she looked, accentuating her feminine qualities and making sure that the men who saw her liked what they were seeing—liked it enough to pay good money for it.
The underbelly of Athrani society was not publicly acknowledged, but it was very real. They liked to think of themselves as better than their human and Khyth counterparts, but they weren’t—they were just better at hiding it. Her mother was certainly good at hiding it from Lily, and it wasn’t until much later that Lily would even connect the dots as to how she really made her money.
Darling, Coraline was always saying, you pay attention to those women with the fine clothing. That will be you someday.
Her mother took the dark wooden brush to Lily’s hair and hummed softly as she ran it through. The melody was plain and bright; the tune, comforting.
Lying ’neath the falling rain
Scattered under stars,
She rides the wind to heart’s content
’Til he returns again.
The loveliness of Coraline’s brown-on-blue eyes and long brown hair was surpassed only by her voice.
“I like that song, Mother. What is it?”
“Just something that your grandmother used to sing to me when I was a girl,” she answered.
It was a simple little tune, but her mother’s soothing voice did wonders to it.
“What does it mean?” Lily asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Coraline said as she kissed her girl on the head. “But I always thought it was my mother’s way of telling me how she missed my father.”
She leaned in close to Lily and whispered, “Now hurry up and get your dress. The blue one.”
Lily’s eyes lit up, and she raced to the wooden chest in the corner of the room. She opened it and didn’t have to look far: her favorite dress, the blue one with white frills, was nestled neatly near the top of the chest.
She pulled it on over her head with a smile. Tonight would be unforgettable.