10

I kept running, my feet pounding against the creaking wooden floors, the dishes tilting and clattering in my arms with every motion. The cold fingers of the shadows tugged at my feet, trying to slow me down, to stop me from running altogether. I could still here Angelo’s quiet words echoing in my thoughts over the rush of my panting breath, increasing the chills slinking down my spine despite the stiff, humid air in the hallway.

As I scurried around a corner, the top of my head immediately met with something warm and hard. The world shifted and turned on its side, the dishes spilling from my hands in a jumbled clatter that left my ears ringing even after I staggered against the wall, completely dizzy from the smashed blow to my head. Whatever or whoever the object was that I had plowed into, it was now squealing in pain like a baby piglet.

“Thorn, what did you do now?” Melisandra’s exasperated yell came just seconds before she arrived on the scene. Her steps light and bouncy despite the bundle of used bed linens she carried in her arms. I heard more than saw her low groan of irritation as she dumped the linens straight on the floor. “Thorn! Stop groaning like a dying donkey! You’re fine! Now get over here and help clean up the mess you made!”

“Don’t blame me, Miss Charging Bull here was the one who plowed into me! If anyone should clean up this mess, it should be her.” Thorn cradled his aching jaw in one hand and jabbed a finger in my direction with the other. Remnants of sticky oatmeal had splattered against his shirt, staining the black material with wet darker splotches. There was even a few softened grains of oatmeal clinging to the fabric of his eyepatch and his jaw.

“I’m sure you didn’t help matters any. Kyri looks like she’s scared to death.” Melisandra bent down, picked up all the scattered dishes, and shoved them into Thorn’s chest. “Make yourself useful besides being a whining lump and take those down to Rosa. Kyri will help me carry the rest of the linens down to the wash.”

Thorn grumbled and growled unintelligible words, but accepted the burden and trudged in the direction of the kitchen. Once he had reached a considerable distance away, a distinctive shout of joy was heard echoing against the walls. His vocal relief from laundry duty, I suppose.

Melisandra’s brown eyes rolled skyward as if in search of patience. “I swear, sometimes I don’t know how that frustrating excuse for a man became captain of the guard.” She turned towards me, concerned with the way I was obviously trembling, clutching the wall as if it was my dearest friend and trying desperately to suppress the flood of magic in my veins. “Hey, are you okay? Did something happen? Was it Thorn? Did he get handsy, trying to feel you up? I swear that man is so-”

“I-It wasn’t T-Thorn!” I blurted out, much louder than I meant to. My voice echoed off the castle’s stone walls like a bouncing ball. Melisandra’s concern increased, causing her to lay a comforting hand on my shivering shoulder and I’m surprised she didn’t draw back without a shock. “I-It was the K-King, the pr-prince, and-“

“Oh, yeah. Nikos is like that some mornings. No wonder you’re traumatized, sweetie. Facing a wacked-out king and a hoity-toity prince first thing in the morning makes you wish for a glass of liquor. Dealing with those two is one of the things I hate most about the mornings, but I’ve gotten used to it and you will too. You just can’t let them get under your skin. Nikos is still the same ole nasty tyrant he’s always been, but he’s getting easier to deal with since his mind is slipping. In fact, I think he’s becoming a better person the further he slips, he’s certainly much kinder when he is in his boyish state. I can’t say the same for Travain though, I think that boy was born bitter at the world and it’s only getting worse as he grows older. All the high-born ladies look to him as the future king of Althea, but I’ve heard the way they talk about his icy demeanor behind his back. Whoo-wee! You’ve never heard such a rally of cat-scratching and spitting in all your life.” She finally paused to suck in a long, whistling breath after her tirade of comments, her hand continuing to pat my shoulder with mild reassurance. Signaling the end of the conversation, Melisandra turned back to the scattered bundles of bed linens that had been thrown to the floor as a result of my collision with Thorn and began dividing them up into two split piles.

My fearful trembling had calmed somewhat to a mild tremor after her speech, but things still felt wrong. Yes, Nikos is most certainly crazy and Travain is a real pain in the butt, but there was something else that was bothering me. The feeling of something unnatural and evil was haunting this place. In just that short time together, the eerie feeling of the predatory shadows seemed to have multiplied with the combined presence of Nikos and Angelo. The head butler had seemed nice and very courteous at first, but there was an underlying edge to his air of collected calmness that felt as sinister as a keen edged razor. I would have liked to ask about my feelings, but an inner voice bade me to remain silent. To observe my new surroundings a little further and all my questions would be answered.

So, that is what I did. Staying silent and stealthy as a mouse while going about my duties with slightly glittering palms. After gathering up the remaining bed linens left behind by Melisandra, I was instructed to leave them in the basement for the red-faced laundry maids to clean while I received a bundle of clean linens in exchange. Then it was back up the steps to tuck and fold the new linens into place before repeating the process on the next set of rooms.

I was in the midst of tucking the blankets beneath my fifth bed so far when I heard a strange tapping sound. A rat-a-tat-tat repeated twice in sync before pausing for a third round. At first I thought it was merely the wind rattling against the old window panes, but when a subtle chattering sound began to accompany the pecking noise, I abandoned my bedmaking efforts and began to search for the noise.

I didn’t have to look far. A familiar feathery bundle of cinnamon brown and raven black had landed just on the edge of the windowsill outside, luminous golden eyes gleaming with unsaid irritation peering inside while his curved beak tapped once more at the window. Rat-a-tat-tat.

“What do you want?” The darker feathers that formed the v of his horns dipped down over the top of his eyes, enhancing his already scowling appearance, as he considered my question. His talons shuffled against the protruding stone ledge, making a quick tapping sound as leaned further into the indention created by the window, almost hiding himself from sight. In fact, I wonder if he is trying to hide himself from wandering eyes as it was rather rare for an great horned owl to be out and moving about at this portion of the day, but as he continued to shuffle around, I noticed that there was something attached to his right leg. A small glass vial was secured at his ankle by a small leather strap.

Owls were the new carrier pigeons, who knew?

Even more confusing was why someone was sending a message via owl flight.

“Is that for me?” I pointed at the vial attached to his leg and he treated me with a scathing look that spoke his current opinion of my intelligence – that is, he had pronounced me an idiot for asking such a question. The cream colored feathers along his breast swelled up and then deflated rather rapidly, a whistling sigh emitting from his beak as he raised the message bearing leg and pecked at the strap. With two sharp strokes, the vial came away in his beak and he returned to glaring at me expectantly while waiting for the window to open – and looking very cute while he was waiting, almost puppy-like if you didn’t count the talons, beak, and wings.

I stifled a small chuckle at his demanding expression, flipping the rusty window latch with my fingertips till the pane swung free. With small rocking steps, the owl shuffled inside and promptly dropped the vial on the floor, spreading his stubby wings out to hop over to the bed and cuddle down into the nest of blankets I had so conveniently left for him. He melted on contact, turning into a limp puddle of feathers and half lidded golden eyes that blankly gazed forward in utter bliss.

“Hey, off! Those were clean until you plonked your little feathery butt on them!” The only reaction that proved he even heard me was a few well-placed muttered chirps that sounded suspiciously like a few four letter words I knew. Casting one last glance at the owl imbedded deep within the bedding, I turned my attention towards the vial in my hand. Smooth and cylindrical in shape, the crystal-like substance was cool to my touch except for the small patch of roughness at the opening of the neck where a small brown cork was placed to keep any contents inside. How curious, I wonder if... yes it did! As soon as I twisted the cork free of the opening and shook the bottle into my free hand, a small curled roll of cream colored paper landed in my hand.

It was a message addressed to me, and what it said took my breath away.

Dear Kyri,

I hope that Stryker, the bearer of this message, and its contents finds you well and safe. I have heard that you were appointed to a position as a maid in the King’s castle instead of being placed in the dungeon alongside myself or some similar worse fate. I was also informed that this was to be a very desirable position for a young lady such as yourself, so I suppose congratulations are in order.

Now onto the purpose of this message.

The paper that this message is written on is enchanted with magic, so it will not burn, disintegrate, or tear as would a normal one. The reason I am telling you this is because I would assume that you were angry with me for lying to you about the meetings that I conducted while in your and Mrs. Leona’s care, and I was reasonably sure that one of your possible reactions would have been to destroy this note. This was not spontaneously done and I wish that I could have spared your and your mother’s involvement in the circumstances at hand. Also, I wish to tell you that my involvement along with those of my companions was in no way associated with the fires of your home. If you do not believe anything I have said thus far, than please believe this. I, nor my companions, would have harmed an innocent life so easily.

I have also considered that you would be emotionally unsettled at this current time and would most likely not respond to my letter at this time. However, I would like to hear from your own words how your wellbeing is at the present. So, if you wish to reply, please flatten this paper against a firm surface, sweep your hand across the body of the letter to erase what has been said, and use your fingers as you would a pen to write what you would wish to say. I hold the mate to this paper in my possession and anything you write will be broadcasted directly to my mate of the paper, which I can then write upon to you in reply. When you are finished with this message, please return the paper to the vial and give it to Stryker, he will properly return the items to me in order to avoid you having any further contact with anything magical.

Yours truly,

Alec

For a moment, I was just shocked. He assumed that I would be angry with him? He wished me well with this new opportunity? He wanted to hear that I was okay and safe? How dare he? How dare he think I would believe him so easily after everything had transpired? That he could say a few flowery words and I would fall all over him like one of the prince’s swooning fans. No, if he wanted to hear from me, then he was going to get some words and none of those were going to be what he wanted to know.

I slammed the paper down on the bed, startling the snoozing bird into a chicken-like squawk while he rolled over onto his back with those long densely feathered legs extended straight up into the air, onyx black talons open and grasping for purchase against the invisible substance while his extended wings beat in vain against the trappings of the soft cover of blankets he had nestled so eagerly in. I paid him no mind, not even as his soft feathers brushed against my hands, while my fingers eagerly wiped away the traitorous wolf’s message and replaced it with one of my own. I poured out every bit of my anger, fear, frustration, and pain that had gathered in my chest as one hard knot into scribbles of words until scathing hot tears blurred my eyes so that I couldn’t tell if I was writing words or just a mish-mash of intelligible gibberish that poured from my glowing and crackling fingers like water in a drenching downpour of rain. When the words finally ceased and my open sobs drew to a close, I felt drier than I had ever felt, like something had sucked up every bit of moisture in my body and left me as dry as an old rock left exposed in the sun.

It actually felt like relief. The tight knot in my chest itself having loosened for the time being.

I failed to notice when the paper was slid from my hands, or when the bird- Stryker was the name Alec called him – left through the open window, departing from wherever he had come from in the first place, but now I felt alone. More alone than I could remember feeling in a long time. I truly had no one now. No one who I could trust, but also no one who knew my secret. In a sense, I had a new beginning. One born from the ashes of my old life, and this one would be different. I would no longer be a freak, I would make sure of that. Angelo said that a servant in the king’s castle had to be the best, so that is what I would do. I would be the most efficient servant this castle had ever seen, one that would use the king’s fondness for my father to my advantage and slyly convince his craziness that I was a friend, and then maybe I could also show my usefulness as a guard as well. Perhaps I could become one of those brilliant heroines that I had read about in books, the do-it-all types who achieve their life’s goals, saves the kingdom, and marries the handsome prince by the end of the story.

I just had to stay alive first so that I could accomplish my goals – scratching the marrying the prince part.

With my eyes now free of tears and my mind slightly clearer than it was before, I returned to my duties with a renewed vigor and mindset ready to accomplish my goals – even though it did involve changing the linens of all 15 bed chambers in the castle plus the trips up and down to deliver the linens down to the laundry and back with the clean ones. When I was finally finished, my hair was crusty from sweat, my arms felt like lumps of deadened dough, and the muscles of my thighs and feet were screaming in protest with every step. My clothes were filthy with dirt, dust, and grime – at least the grey color did camouflage most of the mess. I wanted to head straight for a bath and then to bed, but oh no, we couldn’t do that. The chirpy little spring that was Melisandra insisted that we eat dinner first. I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted to go to bed. Despite my wishes, I was dragged by my aching hand down to the kitchen for a dinner that I didn’t want.

She guided – aka, dragged—me through the halls to the kitchen – I’m going to need a map to get around this place – and we stepped right into a broiling oven. A wave of heat so strong immediately seared the skin on my face as soon as I arrived – I could feel the blisters forming with every second that passed – but Rosa was bustling around the kitchen like it was nothing. The little blonde girl wasn’t even sweating as she monitored a huge boiling vat on top of the high burning stove.

“Hey, Rosa! What’s cooking? It’s smells great!” Melisandra shouted to be heard above the clattering din of spoon scratching against heated pot. Whatever it was, it smelled great! The meaty scent of chicken, fresh thyme, onions, and potatoes all rose into the air along with the steam, making my stomach rumble in hunger. Melisandra leaned forward to sniff at the delicious scent, and was promptly wacked in the head by Rosa’s hand. Melisandra yelped, achieving only a scolding shake of Rosa’s finger as her reward before the cook removed the pot from the heat and sat it aside on the counter. For such a small girl, she must be amazingly strong to lift a filled pot a third of her own size.

“Darling Rosa! King Nikos requests a second helping of your lovely stew!” A thoroughly food-stained Angelo breezed through the doors, barely avoiding knocking me into the wall as he passed. His charming smile was very stiff now with the remnants of what looks like orange carrot smears and smashed green peas dripping from his dark hair and classy grey suit. Still keeping a stiff upper lip, I suppose.

Rose nodded and began dipping out a second slightly smaller serving into a regular grey stonewear bowl like the commoners use. I make a small noise of surprise in my throat which caused Melisandra to look at me in question. When I dismissed her concern with a wave of my hand and a muffled cough into my fist, she shrugged and turned back to waiting for Rosa to finished ladling the king’s portion before dipping out our own for the evening.

“I see Nikos is up to his regular tricks again.” The falconry master drawled with a smile. Stepping into the kitchen, he slapped Angelo between the shoulders with one meaty hand, and sat in one of the two chairs at the tiny little table. His larger bulk was quite at odds with the smaller chair, threating to crush the supportive wood into a pile of sawdust. A long stream of white crusted down one shoulder and across to his chest, the substance producing a foul smell the likes of I haven’t smelled since a nest of pigeons decided to roost in one of our windows at the Femme Mystique.

“The king is feeling rather spunky tonight, sir.” Angelo declined while Rosa passed the now full bowl into his waiting hands. Executing an elegant bow at the waist while also holding the bowl aloft in one hand, the butler bid us farewell and returned on his way. The shadows along the wall pulsed visibly as he left. I couldn’t stop my eyes from widening in alarm, but none of the other’s seem to notice a difference, except for Solomon. The old falconer caught my sight with a fierce, unblinking stare, much like the way a raptor would stare at its prey. I shuffled my weight from one aching foot to the other, my gaze dropping to the floor like a stone, but I could still feel his stare burning through my skull.

“Kyri, here’s you a bowl for supper.” Melisandra slid a steaming bowl of the soup across the long counter to where I’m standing at the end. Rosa and herself also now had a bowl, the small chef had taken the remaining seat at the table beside of Solomon and propped her feet up on the rungs of the chair – she’s so short that her feet don’t even touch the floor anyway – and Melisandra stood at the counter, blowing a cooling breath onto a spoonful of the steaming broth. I looked around and there doesn’t seem to be another set of tables or chairs available, but there is a small stool off in the darkened corner by the sink, so I take my bowl and sit there. It was just like when I was in school, I always sat apart from the others, usually in a darkened corner. Again, part of the reason they decided to call me Mouse.

The conversation between the maid and the falconer ebbed and flowed between bites of the stew, every so often pausing for the silent addition from the cook in the form of a nodding or shaking head – I wonder if she chooses not to speak or if she can’t? A question for another day, I guess. Ignored by the others, I slowly sipped on my stew, keeping an eye on the shadows that continue to slowly creep along the walls like chilled lizards. A particular one caught my eye as I was lifting a spoonful of broth and potato to my mouth. The dark lump shifted from a flat diamond shape to a griffin in mid-flight, the shadowy tendrils shifting like real flight feathers as the mighty wings beat slow and silent. Then, the shadows morphed again and the griffin was no longer flying, instead it was clawing at the sinuous body of a long serpent. The lion-eagle hybrid beast reached one feline leg out, the paw ending in long curved talons that scratched against the floor desperately, almost reaching to my feet. I gasped, tucking my legs up under my skirt out of range of the dangerously sharp claws. The extended arm shook once, twice more before the claws became completely still. The shadow serpent hissed softly, a very pleased sound as twin eyes burning like chips of the bluest ice glimmered in the elongated skull. The suffocating length of muscular coils slacked to allow room for the unhinged jaw to open and swallow the now deceased griffin. My lips also parted in a gasp of horror as I watched the dark beaked head disappear between the hissing jaws, followed by the griffin’s muscular shoulders, legs, and wings. The serpent of shadows gave a sickeningly satisfied slurp as the tip of the griffin’s fluff tipped tail vanished into the inky depths of the jaws, the black forked tongue flickering out to taste the air after its meal was complete.

I felt sick, the stew in my stomach threating to erupt from my stomach with the least little movement that I made. The serpent turned, the shovel shaped head emerging from the wall to where it was no longer flat, but actually protruded out from the walls like the wavering limb of a tree. A silent hiss, a flicker of forked tongue, and the long coils began bunching up, the serpentine muscles constricting up for a striking motion.

“What’s wrong with ye, girlie?” Solomon’s drawl interrupted my silent terror. The hand on my shoulder and the curious gaze of the other two girls was the only thing that kept me from screaming out loud. As if heard from a great distance away, I was dimly aware of a rapid plinking sound, the dishes in my hand noisily clattering against each other with the trembling of my hands. I placed the dishes on the relative safety of the counter, rubbed my palms against my face, and tried to relax. The shadows had been so real, a terrifying vision of darkness, but now they just laid flat and lifeless against the wall.

It was only then that I noticed that my palms were glowing pure gold.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.” I snapped off as I rushed to hide my fingers in the grime ridden folds of my skirt. Solomon disbelief showed in his snort, but he stepped aside to grant me enough space to stand up fully. My vision burst into a swarm of grey and black spots as my feet slid to the ground, my legs weak and unsteady as a drunkard’s which left my glowing hands reaching out to the cabinets for a secure grip. My sparking fingers closed around the cool granite and it felt like a lifeline to my exhausted muscles, even to my injured shoulder which burned with red hot pain lancing straight through the muscle. I wish I had skipped dinner. I just want to go to my room, snuggle under my covers, and sleep before I have to get up and repeat the whole cleaning process again in the morning. And darn it, that’s what I’m going to do!

“Hey, Kyri! You’re not already going to bed now are you? It’s still way early.” Melisandra’s question came as I was wobbled towards the door.

“Yes, I am.” I snapped back, my exhaustion hardening my words till they were as sharp as the knives that laid on the counter. “Rosa, thank you for the delicious meal, but I’m tired and going to bed now.”

Rosa nodded once before I departed, the scuffle of my shoes the only sound in the hallway. Then, I heard muttering, the rapid slapping of feet, and Melisandra sprung into view with her long grey skirt hoisted high in her fists to allow her legs the freedom to run unchallenged by the lengthy fabric. “Hey, wait up!” She called as she fell into step beside me.

The rapidly fading evening sunlight casted long shadows streaming through the windows, creating a unique painting of puddles of orange light pooling on the wooden floor between the swathes of inky blackness. Every time I stepped into one of those dark shadows, something suctioned at my legs, threating to pull off my shoes with every step. The feel of walking in a swamp filled with sucking mud was the closest thing I could think of that could ever feel like this. I glanced out of the side of my vision, noting that Melisandra didn’t seem to be having any troubles walking over the shadows themselves. In fact, the girl was skipping along rather well, although her rare silence was a blessing for the time being.

We walked in silence, the only sound being the scuffles of our shoes and the sweep of our skirts against the floor. I was planning on spending a quiet evening in bed, but the further we walked along with the darkening sunlight shining through the windows, the more I began to notice the dark globes of the gas lights in the walls. Hadn’t it only been yesterday when Travain brought me here that she was trying to get all the lamps turned on before bedtime? In fact, it seemed like yesterday was ten years ago. The smoke, ashes, blood, and terror of it all seemed like it was from a nightmare rather than real life. Finally, I could contain my curiosity no longer. “Melisandra?”

“Hmn?” She paused her bouncing steps long enough to pay attention “You don’t have to be so formal. I told you to call me Sandra. That’s what everybody does. Melisandra is just such a mouthful. You’re lucky, you’ve got a nice cute name but mine is just bleh. Sometimes I wonder if my mother was drinking when she named me.”

“Okay... Sandra. Why were you so worried about getting the lights on in the house last night?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” She said. Even standing still, she was still swaying side to side like a young tree wavering in the wind. “During the nighttime hours, Nikos sleeps in the house instead of staying in his tent in the garden like he does during the day. He swears that it’s not safe enough, that he can hear the shadows calling his name, see beasts made of darkness snapping at his heels, feel their teeth gnawing on his legs. It’s really crazy. Nikos has some pretty wild stuff in his head, but that takes the cake. I mean, shadows coming to life like some kind of monster out of a storybook? There’s no way anything like that can be real.”

Nikos is crazy because he can see shadows, huh? I wonder what she would think about me.

“You shouldn’t be running your mouth off about something you know nothing about, Sahara.” As soundless as a phantom of shadow himself, Prince Travain stepped out of the dark into our path, his blue eyes flashing strands of irate fire towards my companion and myself.

“Oh, please. Everyone in the castle already knows Nikos is nuttier than a holiday fruitcake,” Sandra grumbled. “It’s not like it is some big secret. Besides, she asked about-“

Travain silenced her with glare, his fingers flexing back and forth like they were just itching to wrap around her neck and strangle the words from her throat. “Your king is certainly not, as you so delicately put it, “nuttier than a holiday fruitcake” In fact, it is proper courtesy for a pair of maids to not be seen or heard.”

“Well...” Sandra drawled, clearly not intimidated by the prince’s challenge. “I do believe the operative word here is or. So you can either see me or hear me, but either way, I will be more than glad to show you what I think.”

The skin across Travain’s face tightened, his lips pressing together into a thin angry white line and nostrils flaring wide while attempting to control his anger. “Perhaps you would rather your thinking little brain be separated from your body. That would solve a whole host of problems, don’t you think? One simple little trip to the executioner, and boom! No more troublesome maid.” He fizzled his hands in the air like exploding fireworks.

Sandra blanched, her light brown skin turning as pale as a rabbit’s coat in winter.

“No petty comebacks, eh? I’m surprised. Usually the simpleton commoners do not have the brainpower to register their proper place.” Travain’s smirk could have curdled milk it was so sour. Twins spots of pink colored Sandra’s the highest points of her cheeks, her anger becoming quite visible in effect, but still she held her tongue.

Malice seemed to be a skill that all the elites were very well trained in—I wonder if they learn it in school or something. Like in kindergarten you learn how to tie your shoes, write your name, and scald an enemy with your tongue. The elites probably don’t have schools though. It would be much too ‘common’. They probably have personal tutors employed to teach them to be the best at everything.

“As for you,” Travain hissed as he rounded on me. “I don’t know what kind of enchantment you’ve worked on the king to get promoted from someone of your standard to such a lofty position as maid to the king’s household, but rest assured, I will find out and have you executed if someone so much as breathes your name and the word magic in the same sentence.”

Suddenly, my chest felt too tight, like a massive weight was sitting on my chest and slowly pressing out all the air I had in my lungs. I tried to breath but the air was stuck in my throat, refusing to move despite my insistence. It actually didn’t matter if Travain had proof or not about any meddling I might have had with magic – It would have been oh-so-easy to proof if he had only looked down at my hands – he could have me and everyone I’ve ever spoke to executed with just one word about magic. After all, who would doubt the word of a prince? “O-Of course, your h-highness. I u-understand.”

Travain gruffly cleared his throat. “Good. Let that serve as your final warning. Now, make sure that the garden is completely prepared tomorrow for the garden party the following day. I want every leave, stone, and bush perfectly in place, including removing that eyesore of my father’s little camp spot. Everything must be perfect, do you understand? I don’t want to give those scum-sucking magistrates any little tidbits to feed into their filth-churning rumor mills.”

“Crystal clear, sir.” We both chirped on command like a pair of trained birds. How disgusting.

Travain looked away and adjusted the collar of his jacket. “Now, if you are not gone from my sight by the time I count to three-“

“Gone, sir.” I winced as a sharp pain lanced through my already sore and aching shoulder when Sandra shoved her hands against my back, pushing me down the hall and away from the wrathful prince. Thankfully, we weren’t that far from the servant’s quarters and the room we were sharing. She continued to push against my back until I’m inside our room before then slamming the door shut and pushing the thin iron bar across the door in the locked position – really, I don’t know why she bothered. That lock is so thin that one good shove against the door is all it would take to break it right off.

I stumbled forward onto the bed, my weak knees collapsing as soon as they made contact with the slightly bouncy surface, my butt hitting the bed with a slight squeak from the worn-out springs underneath. Once fully assured that the door was locked to her specifications, Sandra took a running leap and pounced on her bed, belly first and her face vanished into the cradle of the pillow, only to be shortly followed by an ear-splitting scream only slightly muffled by the thin feather-stuffed item.

Exhaustion trumped curiosity, so I stared at the mound of curly hair sprouting up from the pillow like wiry sprigs of grass with a raised eyebrow. Feeling the weight of my gaze, two sullen brown eyes looked out from the crease of the pillow. “If Travain wasn’t the crown prince, I swear, somebody would have skewed his temperamental ass on a fence post a long time ago!” She grumbled, her words only slightly distorted by the mash of her lips against the pillow

I chuckled, the sound low and raspy from the smoke damage done to my throat. “I thought you said that you couldn’t Travain bother you? That he was a grumpy old fart in a younger form?”

She glared at me for another minute before swinging the pillow at my head. I ducked easily, the soft weapon thumping harmlessly against the wall. “I was wrong, okay! Travain is a royal pain in the ass that needs to be scalped!”

“You said that already!” I flung the pillow back towards her side of the room where it caught her in the stomach with a soft whump.

“Oh, you’re going to be like that, are you?” She shot back with a challenging smile. I echoed it with one of my own, my fingers knotting in the fabric of the thin pillow at my side. The battle had begun with her first swing aimed straight for my head, which I easily dodged again and returned with a low swing towards the back of her knees—I may be tall, but I’m also quick too—While she went down from the strategically placed hit, I dashed out of range of her swinging arms that flailed the pillow around in fruitless swings. Quickly recovering, Sandra shot back up and charged towards me with a furious battle cry, which I promptly silenced with a connecting swing to the head with my weapon of choice. She fell over on my bed, bent double and laughed heartily. Releasing her weapon, Sandra’s arms came up to protect her face while I relentlessly battered her back with the pillow in my hands. “Stop it!” She laughed, wiping away the tears of laughter in her eyes. “You’re just like my sister. I could never win a pillow fight against her.”

“You have a sister?” I asked while sitting down cross-legged on the floor. I thought she had mentioned previously that it was just her and her grandmother left.

Sandra sat up and tucked her skirt down around her knees. Her feet slightly swinging inches above the floor. “I had a sister. An older sister.” She started off somberly gazing at her fingers clenched tight in the wrinkled fabric of her apron. “Melody died two years ago. Executed actually, by order of the king for committing treason against the crown by harboring magic.”

My eyes grew wide as saucers. “Really? What did she do? Sneak outside the walls for magical items?”

“Naw, it wasn’t anything piddly like that.” Sandra waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Melody could practice fire magic. You know, conjuring flames up from thin air. Melting things with just a touch of a finger. Manipulating live flames, and stuff like that. It was really cool to watch her balance a single flame on her fingertip and then blow on it, creating a stream of fire straight through the air. That was her best trick, and people loved it! They would cheer and scream so loud that it sounded like thunder rolling in the skies, it was the neatest thing.”

“She actually let other people see her preform magic?” My skepticism clouded my voice. No wonder that Sandra’s sister was executed for magic and treason. If you do perform magic, you can’t just wander around showing it off like a fancy jeweled bracelet. That’s a surefire way to lose your head, literally. I should know, I’ve had to hide mine for so long and constantly live with the threat of that danger

Sandra nodded rapidly, her long curls bobbing around her shoulders like bouncy springs. “Yep, my sister wasn’t a maid, scrounging around in the shadows of some overfed magistrate. She made most of her money by being a circus performer and performing in street shows. The Goddess of Flame was the name of her act. It was funny, no one ever questioned about her actually having any magical abilities, it was all just part of the act. My mom and dad died from sickness when I was little, so she and I were left to Granny to take care of, but even then, Granny was a maid in the Ghro household. One of the lowest paying positions here Melrose, I might add. Granny worked her butt off for those tyrants, still does too. Have you ever met them? The old man is a living devil himself, but his eldest daughter Milasy is a true bitch straight from the bowels of Hell itself. She is so mean that it makes Travain look like a tame little bunny in comparison.”

“We’ve met a time or two.” I chose my words carefully – her description was one very similar to some that I had used myself a time for two for the lady in question.

“Good, then you know what I am talking about. Granny pleaded with the magistrate to raise her pay by just a little bit, not really enough that it would have made a huge difference but it would have helped take off a little bit of the worry about the bills we had. One older woman wasn’t that much to support by herself, but when she also has two young girls that were outgrowing everything she could keep them in, we had to have more money. Old man Ghro just laughed in her face and said that she was trying to live above her station. That others supported families far larger than ours on half of her wages. Granny tried to reason with him a little more, saying that the cost of living in Melrose was more expensive than in some of the other areas of Althea which finally led to the magistrate blowing up with rage. He doubled her working hours and cut her pay in half for three months and said that if she ever brought this up again, she would be finding herself with a new job in the darkest, dampest mine he could find. That’s what led Melody to start working in the streets as a performer. At first, she didn’t bring home a whole lot of money, but then she was discovered by a troupe of circus performers and that was it. She was an instant superstar here in Melrose. After that, she did teach me a few of her magic tricks. Do you want to see?”

I studied the hand held out in front of my face, and promptly squealed when a spark of orange flame bloomed right in the center of her palm.

“Put that out!” I whisper-yelled, casting a furtive glance over my shoulder at that door and half expecting Travain to come barging through at any moment with a full squad of soldiers in support. “Didn’t you just hear what the prince said? He’ll have us executed if magic and my name is connected in any shape, form or fashion!”

Amusement lit the smile across her face as she doused the flickering flame dancing in the center of her palm. “Oh, please. You’re not taking his threat seriously are you? Travain is an eco-centric playboy who loves to play with his bow and arrows and pretend to be king.”

“Oh, really? I wasn’t the one who turned so pale she could have passed for a ghost when Travain threating to execute me for my sassiness.” I crossed my arms and waited for her snappy response.

Her response was immediate with the arrival of flushed cheeks, slitted eyes, and a pillow slamming into the side of my head that sent me tumbling to the floor on my back like a helpless turtle. “Oh, shut up.” She smirked, jumping over my fallen form to quickly grab her nightclothes and dash for the broom-closest sized bathroom that accompanied the bedroom. She slammed the door shut and the lock on the other side of the door clicked into place before I could even rise up to my feet. “First come, first serve.” She yelled through the door, right before I heard the sound of running water splashing against the cracked sink. Great, I hope she doesn’t use up all the hot water.

I sat on the bed and waited for another thirty minutes – my bare toes tapping against the floor, fingernails drumming on the edge of the bed—for the girl to get out of the blasted bathroom! The furnishings consisted of a cracked porcelain claw-footed tub, a discolored pedestal sink, and a toilet. Nothing fancy, and certainly not a trip to a luxury spa. So, what was taking her so long?

With a few clanks and groans, the door opened with a thin squeak. A curly-haired phantom in a white flannel dress appeared in the doorway, a bundle of dirty laundry tucked under her arm. “Your turn,” Sandra smiled impishly. I sighed as I passed by, not eager to spend any longer than I had to in the bathroom. The soft blankets of my bed were beckoning with much too sweet of a siren’s call to resist much longer. Ten minutes later, I was cleaned, freshly bandaged, and huddled beneath the covers like a butterfly’s cocoon, but unable to sleep. I tossed and turned, but my something was sticking in my brain like a fishhook, making it impossible to drift off to the dreamless slumber I had so desired.

“Hey, Sandra?” I called out in the dark silence of the night.

A few muffled snorts and a squeaking bedspring preceded the sleep-mumbled reply. “Yeah?

“How was your sister caught?”

Sandra’s upper body rose up, spookily illuminated by the pale moonlight trickling through the window like a corpse rising up from a dark grave. “Really? You’re asking about this now?” She sighed long and hard, like she was trying to blow out all the air in the room. “Alright, Melody fell in love with this guy who worked with her at the troupe. I didn’t know him that well, but he seemed like a nice guy. Next thing I know, my sister is in prison and then executed right beside that guy who turned out to be a true werewolf in disguise.”

My blood ran cold, freezing to ice in my veins. Again with the werewolves.

“Anything else you want to know before I try to salvage a little sleep?” She muffled a yawn with her hand.

The words stuck to the roof of my cotton-dry mouth till I forced them out with my tongue. “Just one more thing, why did you tell me all this? Why show me that you can do magic?”

“I don’t know actually.” The blankets rustled as I assume she shrugged. ”I just feel like I can trust you, I guess.”

Silence enveloped the room once more as Sandra laid back down and returned to sleep. My mind still turned over what I just heard. It’s funny what she said about trusting me, because I don’t trust anyone here at all.