Upon reflection, I felt rather silly.

Lying in a pool of my own blood, I should have seen it coming.

I had never really liked that dog.

I don’t know why I tried to save it from falling.

At least one of us will make it out alive.

- Unknown date. Patricia of Shreik.

1642, the 36th year of the rot

Johanna took a half breath, quickly let it out, then took another. She proceeded to send her older sister an accusing scowl across the dining table. Their mother and father had yet to arrive for breakfast, so they wouldn’t see their second youngest child throwing a tantrum.

Patricia kept her infuriatingly placid smile, tapping a delicate finger on the table, “elbows.”

Huffing, Johanna pulled her arms back from their resting place and fiddled with the pink bows adorning the front of her bodice. She felt like a trussed pig. All she needed was an apple in her mouth.

“It’s so easy for you, Patty,” Johanna whined, “you’ve been out of the nursery for four years and you’re as high and mighty as the empress.”

“We don’t have an empress,” Patricia pointed out, glancing towards the wide open double doors where two servants awaited the arrival of their parents.

“Well we could some day, you never know,” Johanna snapped back, “you’d be perfect for it at any rate.”

Rather than respond further to her younger sister, Patricia simply turned her full attention to the door now and placed her hands in her lap.

Johanna mumbled a few snappy words under her breath and slumped as much as a corset might allow. Not very much. She had to straighten up again just to breathe.

It was so uncomfortably silent in the dining room. So much larger than the nursery where only yesterday she’d been supping with her brother, Elliot, and nanny Irene. The ceiling in here seemed twice as high to her, and there were no charming paintings of fairy creatures gallivanting in fields anywhere to be seen. Just dull, dark walls. Dark as mud. This was miserable. Why did she have to turn twelve at all?

Distantly, she heard the clock begin to strike down the hall, swiftly followed by heels clicking on wood. Mother.

“Stand,” Patricia directed, pushing her chair back and rising to her feet. She towered over Johanna, just like their mother. Johanna stood, a thorn of jealousy nestled in her heart. They were polar opposites in every way. Whereas Patricia was tall and elegant, Johanna felt short and clumsy. Though they had used the same lady’s maid that morning, the pile of dark and twisting braids piled on Patricia’s head was a garden of shining coils - - Johanna’s made her resemble a gorgon; a hideous beast woman with snakes for braids. Were they really even sisters? Or had one of them been switched at birth by a faerie?

“Johanna, look ahead. Stop fussing with your dress,” Patricia advised, tone even and soft. Johanna pursed her lips and let her hands drop to the side. She hadn’t even realized she was doing that.

Their parents finally arrived, arm in arm. Both wore their bright red riding uniforms, rather than morning dress as Johanna might have expected. She was a little taken aback. Judging by the fine sheen of sweat on their father’s brow, they must have just returned from the stables. She had never seen them like this before. Their visits to the nursery were always so formal.

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“Patricia,” mother nodded at the elder sister, “Johanna,” she turned her head in kind and gave Johanna such a smile. The younger girl didn’t know what to think. She didn’t really know these two well at all. They’d always seemed very distant and strange. Inhumanly perfect. Intimidating.

“Mother, father,” Patricia acknowledged their parents with a curtsy. Johanna hastily followed in kind. She nearly tangled her feet in her skirts in the process. She wasn’t used to so many layers, and certainly not a chest constricting corset. How could sitting and standing be so infuriatingly tiring?

“You needn’t have waited,” their father chided, taking his wife by the hand to lead her to a seat at the head of the table. Against proper etiquette, he took his own seat around the corner beside her. Johanna knew it was improper, because nanny had stressed such manners so much over the last few weeks to prepare her for this.

One of the servants standing at the double doors, hands crossed at his back, spoke up, “your grace, do you wish to break your fast now?”

Their mother, the Duchess of Shreik, waved her hand, “yes, Palance. We do.”

With that, both servants approached the table, and began to remove all manners of silver plated lids from a series of dishes lining the table runner. There were meats and cheeses, breads and fruits, steaming platters of herbed eggs, jams and jellies, and all manner of mouth watering dishes Johanna had seldom enjoyed in the nursery. Nanny Irene wasn’t stingy, and none of the three siblings had ever starved, but her idea of nutrition was exceedingly bland. This was a far cry from oat cakes, lean cuts of unseasoned meat, and porridge.

As if by magic, crystal decanters of brightly colored juices seemed to appear in the servants’ hands and they were immediately filling glasses until they were dangerously full. Johanna’s nerves relaxed and she took her seat again with an irrepressible smile.

“Happy birthday, Johanna,” their father said, giving the younger daughter a wink, “damned if I haven’t been looking forward to this for a fortnight.”

“Grayson,” their mother chided, “language.”

“I apologize, dear,” he replied, patting her hand and snatching a cranberry scone from a platter, “but sometimes a good curse is called for. You know full well how I despise these ruddy peerage traditions. Waiting twelve years to have a decent conversation with your children. Elevation, separation, delegation. Poppycock.”

Without even pausing for breath, he began to slather a huge dollop of dark golden butter on the top of his scone, not even bothering to slice it open, “and what’s more, that one over there thought I was a bloody ogre the first time we ate together.” He waved his butter knife in Patricia’s direction.

Patricia was too polite to roll her eyes or make a remark, but she did draw a hand to her mouth to hide a subtle twitch of her lips.

The duchess directed her attention towards Johanna, “never mind your father. You will learn to tolerate him.” Was that a – joke?

“Eggs, young miss?” One of the servants asked Johanna, and she jolted up with a surprise. She hadn’t realized he was standing behind her.

“Uh, yes,” Johanna replied with a quick, jerky nod. The man reached forward towards one of the trays and grabbed a great silver spoon, giving her two generous scoops of herbed eggs. In no time he had urged her on to take some bacon, sausage, toast, and even a slice of what must be treacle tart. How on earth could four people eat so much?

“I suppose it’s wise to address the elephant in the room,” the duchess spoke, shaking Johanna from her thoughts. She looked at her mother, more curious than ever now.

“What elephant?” Johanna asked, having picked up her fork and used it to poke gingerly at the food on her plate. She didn’t know what to try first. This was just so much at once. Everything. Not just the meal.

“You’re wondering why it took so long for us to finally sit together for a meal. Why neither your father nor I have visited the nursery more than once in any given week to check on you. Why this birthday is so important,” the duchess said softly. She wasn’t touching her food.

Johanna looked back at her mother, a dozen years of what felt like neglect and abandonment nibbling at the corners of her heart. She wouldn’t let herself get worked up for these parents she didn’t know. What they did was normal. All parents were like that. All parents of their class, nanny Irene had told her several times. It didn’t make the tears sting any less when she was alone.

“This evening, we will go for a ride through the estates,” the duchess began, “I wish to show you the burden that our family must shoulder for the empire. It does not make up for the decisions we were forced to make, but I hope you will understand. That is all I can offer you, Johanna.”

The duke of Shreik nodded, “and before that, let’s get you a couple of nice dresses and a pony. Would you like that?”

“Father!” Patricia scolded.

“I’ve always fancied my medicine with a bowl of sugar, personally,” the duke added, completely unashamed for breaking the tension.

Somehow, Johanna felt like that was what she wanted right now. She’d prefer to be happy than sad. Things were better that way.