“It's a God-awful small affair
To the girl with the mousy hair
But her mummy is yelling, ‘No,’
And her daddy has told her to go”
Toliana wore a cute dress, and her makeup (probably) wasn’t smeared —positives and all that. She felt ill, as though her heart was clawing its way up her throat. Toliana risked a glance down the stone bench, past Aedana, and to the ice sculpture that was her mother. The margravine’s head tilted precariously back, allowing her to look down on others while still seeing straight.
It seemed to Toliana that the tilt of her mother’s head displayed all three of her moods.
If she was looking down on you, disappointment. If she was looking up at you, anger. Finally, if the margravine met your eyes head-on, you were dead.
Toliana knew she was being dramatic. All the best bad moods were. She looked away with a huff.
The townspeople bustled about with last-minute preparations. People strung blue and red streamers from their windowsills and lit torches as the sun dropped from view. Soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder down the street’s length. The men casually spoke to the people around them. Children wove through the crowd with reckless abandon, their mothers trying their darndest to wrangle the chaos.
“Sit up,” Aedana whispered, elbowing Toliana’s side.
Vitriol bubbled up through Toliana’s stomach and almost left her tongue before she remembered herself. She reluctantly straightened her posture but scrunched up her face.
Sit up, Toli, sit up. You need to sit up.
Toliana had too much pent-up energy. She wanted to run off, scream, maybe beat someone up. She looked to the nearest soldier and imagined how she would do it. First, she would use her small stature and speed to slide between his legs. Now that she was behind him, she would take his sword and kick him onto his stomach. This is when she would get serious; she would go on the offensive, slashing at the man while he scrambled on the floor.
“Don’t make that face either.”
Toli, you know I only want the best for you. Your best just so happens to be becoming me.
Toliana released the breath she’d been holding, “Sorry.”
Aedana smiled unfairly before turning her attention back to the crowd. The man she’d been mentally assaulting turned from the conversation he was having and met her eyes. He smiled and waved, and she returned the gesture.
Sorry, Yusef.
A hush rippled over the people, and the soldiers fell into parade rest. Distantly, a horn da-da-da-dunned, and the townsfolk twisted in unison, trying to see the source. Cheering rolled like thunder, and Toliana lost herself to the atmosphere as anticipation washed over her. The noise grew as the procession progressed. Toliana stood, ignoring the gentle tug of Adeana at her sleeve.
The parade rounded the corner and stepped onto the main street. Soldiers in her father’s red and whites and the king’s blue and blacks stepped in sync. At the forefront, her brother Rory led the men. He held the banner of House Krozha, a red and white checkered flag bearing a silhouette of a long-necked turtle in the middle. The banner glowed with an outline of unnaturally clear and white light. It felt like seeing the sun without the filter of the sky, almost as though the light were naked. Toliana had never seen anything like it.
She flailed both arms wildly, hoping to get Rory’s attention. Rory twisted the banner in a figure eight. Aedana pulled more forcefully, and Toliana relented, plopping herself onto the bench.
“That’s his magic. It has to be.” Toliana put a hand to her forehead.
The three Krozha women looked at each other before coming to different conclusions, but they spoke as one.
“He makes things glow!”
“He makes things glow?”
“He makes things glow.”
Toliana turned to Aedana, a stupid grin growing on her face.
“That’s amazing.”
Aedana searched Toliana’s face before confirming, “It is?”
“Think of everything you could do with that—no more lanterns or candles. You’d probably still need fireplaces, of course. But you’d never be lost in the dark.”
She would have kept going, but the banner’s light suddenly went out. Then, Rory waved his hand in a wide arc, leaving a trail of glowing air in its wake. Like a weightless fog, the glow drifted into the air, lighting the courtyard with its light. ‘Oohs’ and ‘aahs’ bounced around the crowd. Toliana jumped to her feet before Aedana pulled her back down half-heartedly.
“Did you see that?”
It was Aedana’s turn to be stupefied. “Yeah . . . I did.”
The formless light swirled and caught eddies in the breeze. Toliana looked away long enough to see the ever-so-slight widening of her mother’s eyes.
The parade resumed its procession, lit as though by the full moon, until Rory stood a mere ten paces from the women. He signaled to the drummer, who in turn counted off a halt. The men stood motionless momentarily before Rory allowed them into parade rest.
Rory stood as stiff as his uniform before the margravine, then swept into an extravagant bow. Next, he raised his head, looked at his sisters with a stupid grin, and waggled his eyebrows. A fraction of a second later, Rory straightened into the disciplined military leader he was and turned to his men.
The light in the air dissipated, and the banner split the night once more.
“Men,” Rory’s voice demanded attention, “this past couple of months, you have served your nation and protected your families with diligence and dedication. Every painful step, every biting wound you bled, you suffered for them.” Rory gestured to the crowd with his banner. “Go! Go now, and be with those who made this all worth it. Dismissed.”
The men cheered almost fervently, followed by a more general cry of admiration from the gathered families. The cheering slowly died, and the river of soldiers bled into the crowd.
Rory dismissed the banner’s light as he proudly strutted over. He knelt before the margravine and took her hand.
“Mother.” he gently kissed the back of her hand.
“Where is your father?”
“He wanted the celebration to be for me and the men.” Rory stood and turned to Aedana.
Aedana daintily proffered a hand, which Rory promptly grabbed and pulled. Aedana stumbled to her feet, and Rory pulled her into a hug.
Rory released the indignant Aedana and continued, “There was something he had to take care of anyway. He’ll be there for dinner.”
The margravine sat impassive, “I see.”
Toliana bowled into Rory’s side with a hug of her own. Rory deftly controlled his footing and squeezed back. Toliana’s feet left the floor for a second as he constricted her. He smelled like smoke and sweat.
“Make me glow,” she managed to wheeze out.
Rory pushed Toliana apart and held her shoulders at arm’s length.
“Sorry, Toli, but it doesn’t work like that.”
Toliana challenged his gaze before Rory held his arms up in surrender.
“I’m not lying; I really can’t make people glow.”
“Toliana, let the boy breathe; he’s hardly a moment to rest,” the margravine said, standing.
Aedana whispered placatingly, “You’ll have plenty of time to pester him after dinner.”
The walk to their mansion was short, but the margravine had a carriage prepared anyway.
The siblings sat on one side of the bumpy ride, their placid mother on the other. Toliana checked to see the margravine was looking out the window before poking her brother in the side.
She motioned for him to lean in before whispering, “So if you can’t make me shine, what can you do?”
Rory placed his hand on her head, and Toliana’s mind seemed to still. Her thoughts weren’t racing or frantic, and ideas connected simply and without a fuss. Her ideas, which usually ended like frayed rope, tied together neatly. She felt detached from her own mind.
Toliana gasped, “Prince Kerrek’s father knows who Noel’s parents are.”
“Wha- Who?” Rory looked concerned.
“In the book I’ve been reading.” Toliana folded upon herself and rested her head on her knees.
“Oh.”
Rory let Toliana ruminate on that before she swiveled her head to face him, cheek squished against leg.
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“So you make people more astute?”
Rory tried to keep a grin off his face as he muttered, “‘Astute.’”
Toliana sat upright as she recalled one of her many boring lessons, “Wait, you feel like this all the time?”
Rory had the grace to look abashed, “Well, not right now, obviously, but for the most part, yeah.”
“What else can you do?”
Without warning, Toliana felt a profound sense of disorientation. A part of herself she had always been proud of seemed to dart around within her and then swam away. No, it wasn’t that; Toliana simply returned to how she always had been. In what could have only taken a moment, she felt normal again.
“This one’s a bit more,” He thought for a moment, “specific.”
Rory dramatically raised his index finger and poked her square on the forehead.
This time, Toliana’s thoughts didn’t connect insomuch as the overlaying structure reorganized itself. Her brain saw the world like a tree. It seemed like she could predict how changes to the trunk would affect the branches. It was as if any plan or decision she made was achievable through action on her part. That was a scary thought. Furthermore, Toliana felt she could guess how others were also trying to affect the tree.
Toliana sat up lest she attract the margravine’s ire.
Rory studied her face, but the carriage slowed to a stop before he could question her.
The coachman opened the door, and no assassins waited outside. Rory climbed out first, then stood as a handrail for the women. The women exited from oldest to youngest, like ducks following their mother.
Servants opened too-tall doors in time for the margravine to casually strut through and close just as Toliana scampered in. Once inside, the dining hall was the first door past the foyer. Delicate glass and crystal ornamentation hung from wherever it could find room. A table long enough to be a dance floor made the massive space feel claustrophobic, and its dark red tablecloth could clothe a village for years.
The margravine took her seat, and her children filtered to their self-assigned spots.
After a lapse of awkward silence, Rory cleared his throat, “Father said we could start without him.”
The margravine motioned while blankly staring ahead. Servants in suits wheeled out trays topped with a veritable menagerie of food. Every bird, boar, and bovine Toliana could imagine was present. The buttery aroma of bread twirled with the meat’s savory spices in a tantalizing tango. Tension filled the air as the margravine sliced a piece of some exotic creature and gave it a once over. All three children waited on baited breath until, finally, she took a bite. The races were off. Rory practically leaped from his seat.
Thunk.
Thump.
Toliana spread butter on already dripping bread.
Thunk
Thump.
Rory pulled at a turkey leg.
Thunk.
Thump.
Aedana swirled her wine.
The hall’s back door fwooshed open, and a massive metallic silhouette ducked inside with a limping ‘thunk thump.’ In the chandelier light, the silver-gray steel shone proud, ornamented by red tassels and topped by a red upshoot of feathers. Only, that’s how it should have been. Scratches skittered along its arms, and marring its body was ash and soot. Something had cleaved most of the tassels, and the feathers on its helm still burned like a candle’s wick.
Rory’s chair clattered to the ground as he shot to his feet.
Aedana covered her mouth, then pointed to his head, “Father, y-you’re on fire.”
The armored bulk reached up and popped off its helmet, revealing the nothingness that sat beneath.
It held out its own head and spoke in a voice that held no inflection, “So I am.”
The margrave held his head aloft like an actor in an old play. Then, with a genteel grace, reached up and pinched out the candle-like flame. A crooked limp offset his gait as he scuffed to the head of the table, where, rather than the typical armchair, a stout, stool-like marble column sat like a log around a campfire. Streaks of red and white ran throughout the stone. The margrave fluffed the pillow atop the column and creakily eased himself onto it with a whump.
The margrave leaned forward and gently sat his helm upon the table, giving Toliana a peek into the inner workings. It wasn’t hollow like she expected, but solid steel. His movements displayed a grace and flexibility that hinted at some underlying construction, but his heft was undeniable. With every subtle shift in his seat, the marble groaned in protest.
There was something deeply unsettling about seeing the invincible margrave wounded so. He wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Everybody knew that. Even before, when he was still her father, he’d never got so much as a paper cut. The man was less a storybook hero or villain and more like the rain. He was something you simply weathered or hid from, not something you could stop.
The margravine cleared her throat.
Following her sister's example, Toliana averted her gaze and daintily dug back into her meal. More precisely, she slowly shuffled the contents of her plate around.
“Fritz, bring the artisan and my smiths,” The margrave sat eerily still as his voice permeated the room, “Tell them I’m in need of repair.”
His voice didn’t echo metallically from his head or growl up from within his body, instead sounding as if he were a step or two in front of you at all times. Aside from the regular rises and falls of casual conversation, it rarely had any inflection. When he spoke, he spoke with a demanding calm. Always calm.
The attendant saluted and then scurried off.
The margrave reached down and twisted his damaged leg unnaturally upwards. His thick fingers worked at the straps and screws. When he finally freed the offending leg, he set it alongside his head like cutlery alongside a plate.
Rory shut his slack jaw and asked what no one else could, “What happened?”
“Some of the men were having a bit of trouble with the cargo. So I went to settle some things.”
As if that explains it.
Toliana shared a look of concern with Aedana. Silverware clinked empty against porcelain.
“So,” the margrave said, “Rory’s been out there, earning his Words. What have you made of yourselves here?”
The margravine placatingly smiled and gestured to the eldest, “Aedana has been working on those ledgers you requested. Her new organization system is really quite remarkable.”
Aedana added, “I’m almost finished, too.” She faced Rory. “You should see my embroidery; I’ve just learned a new stitch.”
A knock heralded Fritz’s return, sparing Rory the need for a reply. Four men flanked the attendant through the massive dining doors: Three carrying tools, rags, and oils, and the fourth, a hunching old man whose frizzing hair poofed anywhere it still clung. They moved with the confidence of men who knew their worth.
The three smiths immediately began fussing about buffering and working where they could. The artisan pulled at the skin of his cheek with a look of consternation.
The artisan approached the table and asked, “May I?”
“Please,” the margrave gestured.
The old man hefted the leg in both hands, examining it from all angles. At one point, he produced a looking glass akin to a jeweler's.
He nodded to himself.
“I’ll have the headpiece for you tomorrow before sunrise. Your leg is an intricate thing. It’ll take me three days, four if it gives me trouble. In the meantime, I’ll bring you a crude replacement –something to keep you moving."
The man looked to the margrave for a response, only finding a dismissive wave of acknowledgment. The artisan wrapped the pieces in cloth for ease of transport and left, soon followed by the smiths.
The margrave looked remarkably healthier. He no longer bore the scorching lines that skittered across his frame, leaving only thin scratches in their place. New fabrics and leathers replaced the old. Aside from the nothing atop his neck, Toliana wouldn’t have noticed a thing.
Toliana nearly jumped from her skin as the margrave spoke, his voice seemingly originating from the turkey, “And what of Toliana? What has she been working on?”
Her mother mechanically met Toliana with a death glare and turned to the margrave sweetly.
“Toliana has been working on her studies.”
The margrave thrummed his gauntlet fingers, “And her progress?”
Toliana shrunk back into her chair, knowing how this would go. Her insides felt cold. She knew what mother would say. ‘Toliana will do better,’ she’d promise the margrave. Then the tutors would come. ‘Toliana will do better,’ they’d promise her mother. Better usually involved lots of yelling.
The little piece of Rory’s magic inside Toliana knew all this, too. Only, it also knew how to get what she wanted. It could see the branches: when to agree, where to lie, what to say.
But, for every stupid reason she was Toliana, she couldn’t bear to tell those lies. The chilly slush in her gut churned as she stood, cutting her mother off before she could start. She didn’t need people digging holes for her.
“I’ve been having trouble focusing on my studies recently. More often than not, I think they’re a waste of time.” Toliana wrung her napkin in her hands. “I want magic. I want to meet people and do things.”
The margrave leaned dangerously forward.
Her mother whipped her head around, her shrill voice nearly a shriek.
“And what magic do you hope to get? What Words do you think to find out there? Running around the barracks and talking to waifs? ‘Useless pest,’ perhaps? ‘Airheaded floozy?’”
Toliana knew all the wrong words to say, and, unfortunately, they were exactly what she wanted.
“At least then I’d be happy then. At least then, I wouldn’t be. . .” Toliana looked the margravine up and down, letting the last word go unspoken. You.
Aedana couldn’t meet her eyes, slowly chewing her food. Toliana stormed towards the door.
“My God, Toliana, sit down,” the margravine shouted in indignation.
As Toliana pulled her weight against the massive doors, the margrave’s voice sounded impossibly from the door, “Toliana, If you close that door, don–”
His voice cut off as the door whammed closed.
Despite the foreboding dread that followed the silence, a strange giddiness spurred Toliana into action. If she was going to be locked in her room for all eternity, she might as well have a good last night of her life.
She flipped off her shoes and pounded up the stairs. Once inside her room, Toliana slipped from her constricting formal wear and into a more practical shirt, skirt, and shoes. She peeked her head out the door. All was clear on the right side. Toliana quietly pressed her door closed and was about to make a break for it when someone placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Margrave Krozha has ordered your return.”
Toliana just about lept from her skin. Twirling around, she pleaded, “Then it's a shame you couldn’t find me.” The man looked torn, and his sorrowful expression softened. “It’s a real shame. She wasn’t in her room. She must have slipped right out the back. Right, Fritz?”
His stern expression broke as they met eyes. Fritz swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing back into place.
“A real shame,” He agreed, head dropping.
It was all she needed. Toliana nearly tripped down every step as she bolted down the stairs. She rounded the corner to the servant’s hall with enough speed that her shoulder bashed painfully into the wall. She hardly noticed. Her feet barely touched the floor as she burst from the mansion, clothes rippling in the cool night air.
Toliana tried to calm her heaving chest. The blood pounding in her ears sounded disturbingly similar to the margrave’s bounding run. Nervous energy welled from her in the form of laughter. She walked with what she hoped was nonchalance.
The mansion's backlight was enough to see where she stepped, but not much more. She walked mostly by memory.
The deep violet clouds of a moonless night swirled around the stars, and Toliana wondered what they’d say if they could see her. Would the stars even notice the white-hot tears she dropped like breadcrumbs? A star streaked through the night.
I guess even the sky cries sometimes.
As Toliana neared the training grounds, she could barely make out someone’s silhouette as they approached. A sliver of ice hit her heart. How did the news travel so fast? The silhouette waved frantically. That didn’t seem right. Toliana squinted through the darkness.
Pudgy, short, and Gabeish.
“Toliana?” the boy called out.
“Gabe?”
He jogged forward.
“Thank God it’s you,” he wheezed, “I need your help.”
She was about to turn him away until he got close enough to see the tears running down his face.
“Please, Toliana. They have my Dad.”