It was nothing more than a blur of memories, really. As a child, no one would dare mention it; as an adult, they talked about it like it was some kind of tragedy. In reality, she hadn’t been a part of it—it was one of the many things that she understood not then, but several years later, when any possible heartache from the events had long passed.
One of the first, and only, memories she had of her father was after it had happened. Kamila kept the two of them from interacting with him much, but it wasn’t hard to overhear their conversations. He didn’t want to be there. He’d rather be dead, she could recall him saying, if the only thing he was going to do for the rest of his life was stare up at the ceiling. Domenique admitted much later that she was lucky to only remember that much.
He got his wish a few weeks after the fact came to light. Kamila was left to take care of the two of them on their own. She did a good job at acting like nothing was wrong—better than anyone would be willing to admit. Domenique and Fauna learned to act the part, too. To pretend like what happened behind closed doors was not a struggle to make ends meet, to make it seem like they were no worse off after Silvain’s death.
Acting came naturally, because none of them wanted to find out what happened if they were honest.
Keeping up appearances, unfortunately, meant talking to people. Which was something Fauna only dreaded the older she got.
“I’ve got to go,” Kamila tried gently. “Mrs. Verduren will make sure you’re taken care of. Domenique would be there with you.”
“They’re alright,” Domenique mumbled, glancing at the other kids. She seemed bored, almost, at the idea of having to do this—then again, they all knew where she’d rather be. But it would seem strange if she was always helping Kamila when she presumably had no reason to.
“But I don’t want to…” Fauna stepped closer to Kamila, though her mother also stepped away to make the effort pointless.
“I know, but I can’t stay right now.” Kamila motioned Fauna closer to the others. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, alright?” She gave Mrs. Verduren, the only other adult nearby, a smile. “Thank you for doing this. It means a lot to me.”
She left before any more protests could be given. Fauna wasn’t quite sure if it was just some sense of foresight that she recalled Mrs. Verduren grumbling, “It took long enough. Some of us are actually busy, you know…”
No matter what she’d actually said, though, Mrs. Verduren clapped her hands together. “Let’s all introduce ourselves, kids. I’ll go first.” She continued in a tone more befitting of standing in front of impressed nobles than little kids, “I am Mrs. Verduren. I’ll be watching over all of you while your parents are busy.”
A moment of silence passed. Fauna was the only one who didn’t know the other kids and, frankly, it was very likely they already knew who she was. They probably didn’t find a point in introducing themselves and she had yet to work up the nerve to say anything.
Domenique tried filling in for her. “Fauna, these are—”
“No, that won’t do,” Mrs. Verduren interrupted. “Let her do it herself. She’s not going to learn to do anything if you don’t make her.”
One of the other girls stepped out. “I’ll show her how it’s done, Mother,” she announced confidently. “I’m Kathrine. See? Easy as that.”
Fauna nervously shuffled and, vaguely reassured when she looked up at Domenique, said, “I’m Fauna.”
One by one, the rest of the kids did the same.
“Nivik!”
“Emiyo…”
“Name’s Tamostu!”
“I’m Cynrik.”
It took a moment for the other girl to say anything, but it wasn’t out of shyness. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself for some other reason—another thing found only in hindsight. “And I’m Serafina.”
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“You too,” Mrs. Verduren said to Domenique.
She sighed. “Domenique. But you already knew that.”
Mrs. Verduren seemed satisfied with that answer. “Now, go on and get to know each other. You’re going to be together all day, so I don’t want any of you to walk away without talking. I’ll be over here if you need me. Don’t think I won’t step in if any of you start causing trouble.” She walked over and sat at a bench, a spot that could just barely be considered in a place to watch them. Making it worse, she pulled a book out of her bag and started reading it.
“I’ll go first,” Kathrine declared. “I’m one of the most talented students in my class! All my teachers say so. I’m going to do great things someday. I bet I’ll be heading to Levi Asari in a few years. I’m far above all of you.”
“Except for me,” Cynrik mumbled. “Remember? My dad’s the one in charge here…”
“But at least I’m not going to be stuck in Ryobel for my entire life,” she returned confidently.
Mrs. Verduren, instead of quelling the possible argument, nodded. “They say those who are comfortable where they are never grow. Stay satisfied with something too long and you might just be knocked down into obscurity.”
Cynrik looked like he may have wanted to say something else, but decided against it and shook his head. “We’re not bad, I promise.” He looked over all of them when he said that—a kind of care that would be hard-pressed to find from many Seothian nobles.
“He’s right!” Tamostu cut in with a smile. “Step-Dad’s really nice! He’ll do anything if you ask.”
There might have been truth to it, but all it did was make Fauna nervous. They tried not to get involved in favors—Kamila said there were usually all kinds of strings attached. So, Fauna made a note to avoid both Cynrik and Tamostu. She wanted to get them involved just as much as she liked the thought of anyone figuring it out—which meant she desperately wanted to avoid it.
Nivik decided to add an achievement of his own. “Dad says I’m the best hunter in the family, and I’ve only started! I might even rival him someday! And, unlike Kathrine, I know it’s not just fake praise.”
“There’s nothing fake about it!” Kathrine remarked. “You’re just jealous that, while I’m off doing amazing things, you’re stuck here!”
“Just say she’s right,” Emiyo mumbled. “No one can argue with her anyway.”
“What was that? Don’t talk like I’m wrong! You know I’m right!”
“No, you're not,” Serafina tried. She looked at the others. “Are we really going along with her?”
Mrs. Verduren frowned. “Of course Kathrine’s right! How dare you accuse her of being anything less!”
Fauna stepped a bit closer to Domenique and, as quietly as she could, whispered, “Domenique, I don’t like this.”
“You’re used to this,” was her muttered response. “Do what we usually do: play along. Don’t cause any trouble.”
Luckily, it seemed that none of the others paid attention to what they were talking about. Unluckily, Cynrik asked a question that could almost be casual—were it not for who asked and, more specifically, who it was addressed to.
“What about the two of you?” he prompted. “I think we’ve all kinda talked about ourselves. Except for Serafina.” He looked at her and paused, giving her ample opportunity to say something.
It looked like she might’ve, if Kathrine hadn’t interrupted. “We already know everything we need to. Her parents run that tavern across town.”
Now, they were young enough to not yet understand the specifics of those rumors. But they knew the adults didn’t like it, whatever it was. The division between the rumors and the truth only grew the older they all got.
“I think Cynrik had one good idea, though,” Kathrine continued, completely ignoring the kind of look Serafina was giving her. “We haven’t heard anything about the two of you. Domenique’s come with us a couple of times but she never says anything.”
“Same as the rest of you,” Domenique responded simply. It was a kind of calm facade that Fauna looked up to—she could never imagine herself that good at hiding all the other emotions. “When there’s nothing different, there’s no story to tell.”
“Well, I know there’s got to be something. With the way your mother’s always running around and all…”
Surprisingly, Mrs. Verduren didn’t simply agree. “Now, dear, there’s no need for false accusations. Kamila is an upstanding citizen here. She doesn’t have a single fault to her name.” She shook her head sadly. “Her shortcomings come from the blood of the tynmir.”
Fauna had the luxury of not knowing what that meant then, and foresight could convince her that what they thought was a flaw was a boon. Suffice to say, though, it didn’t help the feeling that none of them belonged here. But Domenique was right—all they could do was stay quiet and take the world around them like there was nothing to fear.