Mother

“You’re not supposed to eat it, Cattallus!” Laughter as her mother shook her head. “This is for the hall; we’re going to hang these sprigs up near the chandelier, and the doors.”
Cattallus sighed. “But raspberries are so delicious!” She held up her hands. “My hands are hot under these gloves.”
Mother grinned. “Try getting the sprigs with them off, then.”
Cattallus eagerly ripped them off and reached for the nearest sprig, crying out as red appeared in a silk-thin line.
“Thorns,” Mother pointed. “Here, give me your hand.” Cattallus obeyed, and Mother whispered the song of healing. The scratch faded away, and Cattallus put the gloves back on.
“Why do we need the sprigs anyway?” she asked. “Why not just the berries? The thorns sting.”
“That’s the point. Raspberry thorns ward off the Black Lady; we don’t want her to come calling, do we?”
Catty rolled her eyes. “Mother, it’s just a story.”
“Perhaps, but it’s also an important tradition of the Feast of Kings. To ignore it would invite-“ Mother stopped. “What’s that?”
Music wafted over the gardens, soft notes of a harpsichord.
“Oterra must be practicing for the feast,” Cattallus answered.
“Ah, yes. Our Serenade scripter must be prepared for her performance.” Mother sighed, then smiled. “You’ll be Serenader one day too, won’t you, my little song?”
Cattallus nodded. “I wrote a song for you,” she said, “and for Oleander’s Transfer Ceremony.”
“Oleander!” Mother straightened, as if remembering a forgotten detail. “I’ll finish up here, Catty. Find your brother, please. We have things to discuss.”

Cattallus found him in the Royal Forest. She hid when she saw him, not because she was doing something wrong, but because he was. Oleander was seeing someone. Catty had seen her around, but she couldn’t remember her name. Oleander had his arms around her waist, and she had hers on his shoulders, as they danced a slow waltz.
“We could get in so much trouble,” she whispered.
“Yes, we could, Mariale,” Oleander agreed.
Most definitely, Cattallus thought.
“So… big Mr. King,” Mariale teased, “how many more duties do you get this year?”
At the age of eighteen the oldest royal child was crowned king or queen, though their parents still held power. Every year, at the Feast of Kings, during the Transfer Ceremony, more power was transferred over, and the true duties of the king was given slowly, in little tidbits, over a period of several years.
“Probably just more stupid rules,” Oleander shrugged. “Pretty soon, I’ll have to start looking for a queen.”
Yes! Now tell her that she can’t be it!
“I can’t be it,” Mariale replied, eyes downcast. “They’ll never accept it.”
“Nope. But who says you have to be what they want you to be?” He swept her down and leaned over, kissing her cheek. Mariale giggled, then stood, blushing guiltily.
“Hold on,” she said. “What do you mean? Oleander, you have to-“
“I don’t have to do anything. Neither do you. We could leave, someplace where no one knows about who I am and who your parents were. Regnum, maybe. Or we could even leave Htam.”
No no no no no!! This is not supposed to happen!
“You mean, elope?” Mariale asked.
“I was implying that, yes.”
“I don’t know…”
“Meet me here. Tonight.”
“But- the Feast tomorrow…”
“Who cares?”
“I still don’t-“
“You’ll be here.” Oleander smiled.
Cattallus stood to run, but rustled the bushes. Oleander turned. “Oh no, Catty! Stop!” Catty ignored him, sprinting. “Catty!” He gave chase but fell over. Mariale ran after her, but Catty knew the forest better. Within minutes, she’d lost her.
Cattallus wasted no time finding her mother, explaining Oleander’s plan to elope with the girl named Mariale.
Mother didn’t even recognize the name at first. “Wait a minute- the scientist?” Once the realization hit her, Mother entered full-fledged panic mode. “What foolish notions has he got now?” Like usual when in panic mode, Mother put on a façade of self-confidence. “No matter. He won’t get away with it; not while I can help it.”

Carmen woke feeling groggy and guilty at the memory. Her head throbbed like someone’s bongo drum, and her heart was thudding against her chest. Groaning, she sat up, the memory still on her mind.
Mariale noticed she was awake and held up a bowl of bean soup. “You hungry?”
Carmen shook her head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mariale asked.
“Tell you what?” Carmen winced as she sat up.
“That you were Cattallus. Back at the siege, when we saw our discarded bodies.”
Carmen shrugged, then asked, “Where’s Arya?”
“Tied up. She apparently tried to kill Jess and Joel while spouting about the Fire. Do you know what that is?”
“Esilanna mentioned it once or twice, but I’m not sure as to what it is. Just that I… thought… it killed my parents. Mariale, I don’t remember much. I willingly went through a memory-wipe… some things are lost to me.”
“But you have an inkling as to what to do next.”
“Question Arya.”
Tristan came wafting down the stairs. “I saw Requiem, Ayana, and some woman with silver hair come near. Your window is really big. It has a good view.”
Before Carmen could say anything, Emma and Quay ran out of the kitchen, cheeks bulging like chipmunks. “Your pantry’s empty,” Emma giggled, then scampered off.
“Did they just raid my pantry?” Carmen asked. An empty sugar bottle rolled into her foot. “Did they seriously eat all my sugar?”
“SUGARRRR!” screamed Emma, answering her question.
Mariale raised an eyebrow.
The doorbell rang. Carmen grimaced at the sound, the high shriek intensifying her headache. She opened the door, resolving to change the doorbell, and stopped breathing for a second. “Annalise?”
“Cattallus Carmen,” Annalise replied. “My friend, you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
“I don’t understand. You’re here…” She stopped. “Ayana, and… you must be Requiem. What are you doing here?”
“Investigating,” answered Ayana.
“Interrogating,” retorted Requiem.
“I put Bella in the care of Solaris and Svein,” Esi continued, “and Linius in jail. Kair is watching him.”
“Let me see Arya” Requiem demanded before Esi could say anything else.
“I’M HUNGRY!!!” shouted Emma behind Carmen, moaning.
“Check the kitchen!” Carmen shouted back. “That is, if you haven’t stripped it bare yet.” Then she turned to Requiem and asked, “Why?”
Requiem looked her straight in the eye. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Don’t underestimate me,” Carmen replied. “You’re the one who wouldn’t understand.” She sighed. “Come in. I was just about to go up to see her anyway.”
Behind her, Jess and Joel ran out of the bathroom’s hot tub, swimsuits dripping and screaming at the scalding heat. Emma, face puckered, collapsed on the couch croaking, “SAALLT!”
Carmen cringed at the chaos, certain things couldn’t get worse, when Oleander and Tristan appeared holding hands and skipping, shouting that they won the bet and that Frida owed them a quarter each.
Arya awoke in a dark room, shades drawn and door locked. She knew because when she stood and tried to open it, the door knob only rattled. Her wrists were connected by a limp rope, which was tied in a knot around the bedpost. The rope allowed her to walk about five feet in any direction. Why would Carmen do this to me? Feeling betrayed, she sat on the bed and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Purple eyes, pointed ears, raven hair, pale complexion- all her. Why did it seem so wrong? This was her face. With a different race’s features than that of her birth, true, but it was still hers.
She squinted. Was it her imagination, or had her pupils taken on a red sheen? It’s not your face. It’s stolen. Then they appeared black again, and she shook her head. Am I losing it?
The door opened with lines of light spilling through the crack and onto her face. Her apparently stolen face. Carmen strode in, followed by Esilanna and Requiem. Carmen sat down in a chair at the far end of the room, Esi and Requiem standing next to her. Requiem, who had her face. The face that apparently didn’t belong to either of them. Arya stared at them, unblinking, and said the first thing that came to mind.
“I’m cold.”
Carmen made no reply, only watching. Then, slowly, she spoke. “Is it true? That you killed Ariana Dietum Gaeia? That who I thought was one of my friends was a lie?”
“I am not a lie!” Arya protested. “Ariana dead? Ridiculous! I’m right here. I have her memories. I AM her! Oterra was my sister. If she were still alive, she’d pale at your sheer audacity. To accuse your friend of such a deed! It’s unbelievable!”
Carmen’s face, ever a cold mask, did not betray any thoughts. She was strange, the sheriff. Sometimes, she was a queen of ice, her emotions hidden. Just as quickly, her anger or sadness or even fear were displayed as clearly as if reading a book. Arya noticed the necklace she wore. Pretty.  It was just like the royal necklace the regina emeritus wore. Then again, it probably was. “Nice jewelry there. Did you scavenge it from your mother’s body after you so brutally murdered her?”
Carmen’s face contorted, and she said, “Mariale Belladonna Regina claims that you told you were the Fire. That you killed Ariana. That you tried to kill Tristan, Jess, and Joel.” Her tone betrayed the fact that she did not appreciate Arya’s question.
“No!” Arya cried out, clutching her chest as her heart beat rapidly. When it subsided, her eyes were red again. “Yes. It’s all true.” Her lips curled back into a sneer. “What a pathetic personality I’ve had to hide behind. One would even think she’s real. But she’s not. Arya’s a fake I put on as a disguise.” The color flickered, and Arya gasped. “What just happened? Why are you all staring at me? I had another one of my seizures, didn’t I?”
“A seizure…” Carmen repeated. She walked to Arya, her face inches from the elf’s. “What do you want?”
The flicker again. “Get away from me, you vile creature! The worlds collapse on your head!” Arya blinked, confused. “I said that. I didn’t mean to. Carmen, what’s wrong with me?”
“I don’t know,” Carmen whispered. “Are you real, or are you the Fire putting a façade? Two conflicting personalities…”
“Two in one, one in two,” Requiem whispered softly, “a silver coin under the sky blue. Take you the little coin and put it to good use; one for now, soon to be two.” She looked to Arya. “My mother used to say that. I just remembered.”
Arya felt light-headed, words abandoning her. This was her fault. How could she have left little Melody all alone, and not realized when fate brought her back? Piercing pain struck her, and her heart thudded against her chest as she grew short of breath. There was no flicker, only the same vision she saw before in Dryadales, of the rain and her dead body, and then…
Darkness.


The Return of Mistress

Meagan was out when the visitor came. She’d been with Donny and Tristan. After a brief introduction to Emma and Quay (and quick reunion with Requiem), the six of them headed to the Lewis Pools. Jenni had been invited, but she’d turned it down, saying she felt nauseated. Meagan felt concerned, but Jenni insisted she go swimming. Jess and Joel were also invited, but both declined politely, claiming they were busy.
When she returned, hair wet and her countenance radiating with laughter, she was surprised to see her mother deep in conversation with Solaris. Meagan tried to slip past, not sure if seeing the wind mage again was a good thing or a bad thing, but both caught sight of her.
“Meagan!” Solaris greeted. Meagan noticed she seemed much happier than usual and kept twirling a ring around her finger. “How are you?”
“Hi and fine.” Meagan flopped onto a couch, across from her mother and Solaris. “Is something wrong?”
“No, actually. Everything’s just peachy. Bella’s been found and Svein is guarding her. It turns out the Chief Sorceress isn’t really dead. All the enemy soldiers magically disappeared. The only reason I really came over was to just… ask some questions.”
Several thoughts crowded Meagan’s mind: relief at Bella’s safety, tentative disbelief that things really were ‘peachy,’ questions on why Lynn sent her to look for Bella in the first place if Bella had been found without her, and wondering what sort of questions Solaris might have. She felt a strange numbness at hearing the Chief Sorceress’s not-deadness. She just wasn’t sure what to feel anymore.
“So what sort of things do you want to ask?” Meagan said.
“I wanted to talk to Jenni about where she was before she came home,” Solaris replied. “Your mother says she went with you.”
“What? No.”
Mrs. Pronozuk paled. “But she told me she was going to catch up with you!”
Meagan sprang to her feet and dashed up to Jenni’s room. No note… no clothes missing from the closet… no signs of having any plans of leaving.
All Meagan could think was Again?
“Mistress?”
“Yes, Umbra?”
“May I take your coat?”
“Of course.” Jenni brushed her coat off and handed it to him, smiling. Umbra bowed, his hat nearly falling off his head as he did so, and hung the coat on an ivory rack depicting snakes and monstrous-looking birds. In the dim light, his pale skin appeared almost like shadowflesh.
“Mistress,” he called.
“Yes?”
“Welcome back.”
Jenni smiled. “Ah, yes. Thank you. Who’s the highest-ranking now? I knew Linius would fail with his siege. Didn’t I, Umbra?”
“Mistress, you’re always right.”
“You big suck up,” she replied, though she seemed amused. “Where is Tenebris?”
“Here, Mistress.” Red eyes appeared, and out of the blackness stepped the rest of the teenaged boy. His teeth, feral and sharp, were as ferocious as the red, hate-filled gaze that was now brimming with adoration and admiration for his mistress. His long mane of hair had been trimmed- Jenni’s orders- and he’d been punished for killing the captain of the guard. Mistress, in the Dream World, had ordered him to kill the sheriff, not him. It had been an accident.
“Ah, Tenebris. I thought Linius sent you to kill Mariale and Oleander a long time ago.”
“Yes, Mistress. And Umbra too.”
“Then why aren’t they dead?” she screamed in rage.
Tenebris shrank back. “Forgive me, Mistress. I’ve been-“
“You’ve been what?”
“Tracking Malum. He headed to Domium Nocte, and entered the ruins.”
“Why?”
“Pardon, Mistress. I don’t know.”
“Then your information is useless!” Jenni snapped, eyes scarlet in the torchlight.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.”
“You’d better be.” Jenni groaned. “Two of us are captured, Linius and Arya, correct?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Umbra answered.
“Figures. Weak wizard. I want him rescued.” Jenni scowled. “Then there’s the Unspeakable One. I want that person taken care of, but it might be prudent to wait until all seven of us are together before we tackle… that abomination. It wouldn’t do to be overpowered.”
“And Arya?”
“She’ll be fine. She is the strongest of us, after all. She’s never been captured for long.” Jenni walked to a low-ceilinged room lit by a few candles and sat in the marble throne centered in the floor. “If she’s waiting, then I can only assume she has some idea as to what she’s doing. I have a plan, much better than Linius’s failed attempt at making a Heart. Records show that the Valkyries had one of their own.”
“But they’re not on Htam, Mistress,” Tenebris pointed out. “They fled.”
“I’m well aware. It is said that their path becomes clear to whoever clears the challenges of the Lunar Citadel. So… Umbra, I expect you to set out at once. Report regularly.”
“Of course, Mistress. Begging your leave…” Umbra bowed and departed, donning his favorite hat.
“And me, Mistress? Send me too!” Tenebris begged.
“I have another job for you. Destroy Oleander and Mariale, as you were instructed. While you’re at it I want you to eradicate yet another threat- I want Carmen dead. I told you to kill her months ago, and I expect the job to get done this time. It should be easy. Linius reports that she’s falling apart at the seams.”
After his leave-taking, with more bowing and begging of leaves, Jenni relaxed on the throne, smirking. Unlike other marble thrones, hers was quite comfortable, and allowed her to focus less on how much she would have hated sitting on it, letting her think of her plans. What idiot thought that thrones were supposed to be uncomfortable? One might as well stand if that was all the chair would do for them.
She didn’t expect Tenebris to succeed in dispatching his targets. Nor did she expect Umbra to unmask the secrets of the Citadel. Her hope, and next part of the plan, was to convince Meagan to go to the Citadel. There were several factors in her favor here: one, she didn’t have to worry about Meagan getting stumped too early on, as Umbra would answer at least some of the challenges; two, she herself was missing- all she had to do was convince Meagan that completing the Citadel would bring her home; and three, there was some of the Fire in Ayana. Very little, but enough. Enough to work with. Then all Meagan had to do was bring the Heart back- doubtless, the stupid fools on the other side would ask her to anyway- and Jenni would be winning the puppet competition. They can’t compete. I am far superior. I have their blood… and my own. My burning blood. Fools! They think they can beat me, up on their little island.
She placed her hand on her cheek, the warmth startling her. It would be leaving soon, choked out by the pathetic, sniveling little girl underneath. She’d prepared for this. She hissed a low, grating word. If sounds had looks, her utterance would have appeared as a rough slate of stone. The marble armrests melted and flowed, trapping her wrists in prisons of rock. Once it left, she would be trapped until it returned, since it took her power with it. No matter. It’d come back. Until it did, though, she had to be contained so as not to run back to her family of fools. Her heart pounding, Jenni closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
“Let the Fire burn,” she whispered.
And then she began her incessant screams.


Please tell me what you think! Also, here is a poem I wrote based on a later chapter where Carmen offhandedly mentioned "Raspberry's Lullaby." In Victuran culture, Raspberry is the hero who destroyed evil Belladonna, a beautiful but scarred face of death. This poem is about how Raspberry and Belladonna relate to each other. The reason I'm including it now is because I'm not sure I plan to upload the rest of the chapters until I'm further along in the second book...



Raspberry's Lullaby

Do you hear it, riding on the breeze?
A song, red as the berries  by the trees,
Bright scarlet, ruby, against the coming night,
Outshining belladonna's black fright?
A song, a song, raspberry's song,
A requiem for souls long gone.
Belladonna's claimed her throng,
But raspberry sings her song.
Beating, beating, is Oleander's drum,
Green as leaves and eloquent as elven tongue.
Calling comes the king of poisions,
While beside him, his dark lady hums.
Elegance, renowned, noble is he,
Yet he is dead as the hanging tree.
His melody is old and stolen,
His words slow and molten.
Silently does Belladonna weep;
Gone is all that she seeks.
Up lifts her head, as she hears it wafting along,
Raspberry's song.
Queen of Dreams tries to sing,
But the song belongs to Raspberry,
And she has only her committed wrongs.