Chapter Eight

Alba

“I think Ona will be most pleased with the location we chose for her,” said Lady Marta Lequette to Alba as their carriage made its way through the village of Marisette.

Alba nodded in a non-committal way and returned her attention to watching the buildings of the town she was born in slip past the window. It was a quaint little village that shared its name with their province. Vineyards and olive groves dotted the rolling green hillsides all around them. The combination of fertile soil, plentiful water from the Santabell river, and warm, sunny weather provided the perfect conditions for growing, and as a result, Marisette had gained a reputation for producing the best grapes and olives in the Empire. Her father’s vineyards had been in the family since long before her great-great-however many great-grandfather had been granted his lordship.

The carriage rattled down the cobblestones of Main Street, past the little cafes and wine cellars that were popular with the well-to-do travelers that frequented the area in the warmer months. A few spirit lights floated by, local tradition claimed they endowed the blessings of the ancestors on any merchant lucky enough to have one enter their shop. Even though Alba had only returned a handful of times in the last ten years she marveled at how the town had not changed at all since her childhood. The shops with their cozy seating areas and colorful signs were just as she remembered them. Her favorite bakery from when she was a girl was still in operation. The smells wafting her way as they passed by reminded her of the treats the proprietor used to slip her and Ona with a wink and a smile when they would accompany the servants on their shopping trips. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten anything all day. She had not had much of an appetite at breakfast that morning, the thought of what her parents and Ona wanted her to do today made eating much of anything nearly impossible. Maybe she should have forced some food down, then she could have convincingly pretended to be sick. But that would not have been fair to Ona. She needed this, and it was selfish of Alba to keep her from it.

She looked at the empty spot on the bench beside her and sighed. So much had changed, yet Marisette continued as it always had. The buildings were constructed of stone and mortar with thick wooden frames that had withstood the ravages of time and nature alike and would continue to do so for many, many years to come. Long after she was gone these buildings would still be standing. The thought did little to comfort her.

“It’s a lovely spot,” her father agreed, unaware of her thoughts. “We chose the best site in the plot. It has a wonderful view of Rio Santabell and you can see all of Marisette. In the spring the sparrows make their nests in the tree she’s resting under. It’s very peaceful.”

Alba turned and smiled at him, masking her true feelings like she always did. “That sounds wonderful, Father,” she lied. “Ona says she can’t wait to see it.” She had found that sometimes it was just easier to make up stuff instead of trying to get an actual response from Ona. Her parents didn’t seem to realize that she was not always right by her side. Today Ona had chosen to ride up top with the driver so she could get a better view of the town, but her parents couldn’t know that of course, nor did the driver. Marie and a few of the senior servants would have been able to see Ona, of course, but they had not come with them. They were in their own town on private family business. There was no need for attendants beyond the driver and a single footman. She had been tempted to tell her parents where Ona really was, just to see her mother’s reaction. No proper lady would ever ride outside.

Alba fingered her mage’s brooch absently and looked back out the window again. She was slowly getting used to the feeling of always wearing it, but it was still a little strange. She wondered what exactly it meant for her. Was she a Lady, or a Mage? Her official title was ‘Lady Mage,’ but could she truly be both? If she was honest it really didn’t matter one way or the other. Soon she would be Vincen’s wife, and that would be what defined her more than any title. That thought did not comfort her either. She liked Vincen, but did she want to be defined by him?

“I am glad you and Ona came with us today,” said her mother, interrupting her musings. “It’s been two years now and neither of you has seen it. It’s not healthy.”

“You know the Academy discourages too many home visits, mother. We haven’t had a chance.” She kept her gaze fixed outside.

“Don’t be rude, Mijita,” said her father. “Please look at us when we are talking.

Alba sighed and looked at her parents.

“I’m certain that Lord Mage Olaguer would have made an exception in your case if you had only asked,” said Lady Marta.

“Our studies were getting too demanding, mother. I explained all this before.”

“Yes, but… I mean. You didn’t even come to the funeral.”

“I couldn’t, Mother,” Alba said. She blamed the Academy policies, but the truth was that she just couldn’t bring herself to go. There had been no need. For the people of Marisette, a funeral is a time for friends and family to gather and pray for the Master to guide the soul of the departed on their final journey to the afterlife. But Ona wasn’t taking the final journey yet, and wouldn’t until Alba eventually died. Then they would go together.

“Lord Vincen managed to attend,” her mother said, refusing to drop the subject.

“Please,” said Marquess Lequette with a sigh. “Let’s not get into this again. How about we just enjoy the ride, and be glad that we are together now. It is a beautiful day, after all. We should be able to see the sky train soon, just over the next hill.”

Lady Marta rolled her eyes but said no more, and Alba gratefully turned her attention outside once more. She knew her father was disappointed in her apparent lack of interest in all things having to do with Ona’s death, but she was glad that he was more interested in keeping the peace between her and her mother.

The carriage left the village soon after and began climbing the hills just outside the borders. Alba caught sight of Ona flying off ahead of them. She must have grown bored with the driver. Ona had never been one to sit still for long, and she had been feeling restricted at the Academy, having explored every inch of the grounds to the furthest extent that their bond would allow. It had been far too long since she had new territory to explore, so Alba did not begrudge her sister a little roaming. In fact, she wished she could join her, and for one mad moment had a brief vision of using Ona’s power to fly from the carriage and escape with her sister, but the moment passed. She wouldn’t fly. Alba would continue to keep Ona’s Skill safe, but she would never use it.

“Ah, there it is,” said her father, leaning forward as he looked out the window to the north. “You have not seen it yet, have you, Mijita?”

They were cresting a hill and could see for miles all around them. Below them and to the north several large stone towers dotted the landscape marking a path that led towards the Lake of Fire, which was in the mountains near the eastern edge of their province. The forest beneath each tower had been cleared, making their path look like a gash across the landscape. On each side of the towers a pair of cables were stretched, connecting them to each other. A thicker line that seemed to be a pipe or tube of some sort ran along the top of the towers, set in the center at the highest point. The line of towers began at the large train depot that sat just outside of Marisette. Alba could see a strange-looking contraption resting on a platform next to the tower closest to the depot. It seemed to be a large, long, and narrow balloon suspended above what looked to be a train carriage. The cables from the tower seemed to run below the platform so Alba couldn’t tell for certain, but she had the impression that the strange rail car was attached to the cable. The whole thing looked unwieldy and somewhat comical.

“What do you think?” Alba’s father asked after a few moments.

“It’s quite impressive, Father,” Alba responded. She wasn’t sure what else she thought of it yet, but there was no denying that it was quite a sight to see. “Does the cable pull that car up the mountains?”

“Indeed it does,” her father replied, obviously proud. “It saves us from having to put the engine in the train itself, therefore saving the weight for more cargo.”

“It’s a monstrosity,” said her mother.

“Please, mi Amor,” sighed Marquess Lequette. “Not again.”

“Well, it is,” she persisted, refusing to be placated. “It’s a blemish on the land, cutting through the forest like that. And going straight to El Lago Maldito as well. It’ll bring ruin to Marisette, mark my words.”

“It will help save Marisette, Marta. That lake is no more cursed than the fish pond at the hacienda. It is filled with valuable resources that the Empire needs, though. If we don’t involve ourselves in these enterprises then we will be ruined. You know as well as I do what resisting the King in this matter would have brought about.”

Lady Marta sighed heavily and pursed her lips. Alba turned her attention back to the sky train and wondered if it really would help their province. The King had ordered it to be built, so in the end, her father had no choice in the matter. Besides that, if Alba was to wed into the royal family as planned, then he needed to show he supported the Empire’s interests, and the construction had given valuable work to the people of Marisette. Now that the work was completed her father found himself struggling to find new ways to use the gas industry to benefit his people. Alba hoped that her marriage to Vincen and the connection that it provided with the Canto family would bring the prosperity they all prayed it would.

The sky train passed out of sight as the carriage rounded a bend in the road and Alba pushed those thoughts aside. Let her father worry about their family’s future. She was doing her duty by marrying Vincen. She was a woman, what more could she do to help anyway?

About a mile outside of town a graveyard had been placed on a hill many hundreds of years ago, predating even the Empire, and every generation of Lequettes for as long as their history had been recorded was buried there, as well as many other prominent families of the region. The entrance to the graveyard was just an iron gate flanked by stone pillars built in the same manner as most of the old buildings in the village. It was old but well-kept; no rust marred the iron and the gates were well-oiled and in good repair. A chapel – also made of stone and wood – graced the yard to the left of the gates. It had a high, thin steeple and a few small stained glass windows depicting the souls of the departed on their final journey to paradise. Alba idly noted that there were no twins represented. The old stories of the Liar making a deal with the first pair of twins, Lamech and Anduil, giving them wonderful powers in exchange for their souls sprang to mind. She scoffed softly and looked away.

The carriage rolled past the chapel and followed the narrow lane up the hill towards the Lequette’s portion of the graveyard. The entire hilltop had been set aside for their use and was even now, many generations later, not half-filled. Ona rejoined them when they were about halfway to the top, silently slipping into the space on the bench beside Alba.

“Remember when we would play here as girls?” she asked Alba.

Alba nodded but said nothing. She remembered. Back then they had no idea what the adults were doing at such a place, and it was just another fun adventure away from the hacienda. Now, she knew exactly why they were there. And she hated it.

Ona continued, oblivious to Alba’s thoughts. “We had so much fun playing hide-and-seek around the gravestones. And Mother and Father would get so mad at us when we came back all covered in dirt.”

Despite her melancholy, Alba chuckled at the memories. They had been forced to make a rule between themselves that they couldn’t use their Skills while playing certain games, otherwise Ona would always just hide in the tallest trees, and Alba would zip from place to place before anyone could catch her.

“Something amusing, dear?” her mother asked.

“We were just remembering the times we played here as girls, mother.”

“You and Ona?” A conflicted look came across her mother’s face then, and Alba felt a moment of sympathy for her. Sometimes she forgot how hard all this must be for her parents. She nodded, a lump forming in her throat.

They sat in silence until the carriage reached the top of the hill. Alba felt her breath quickening as they drew closer to their destination. The reality of why they were there was beginning to sink in. She realized the shopkeepers in town would never again be giving treats to Ona and the two of them could never play hide-and-seek as they once had. Ona was dead, and they were there to pay their respects. Ona was the one who was supposed to be marrying Vincen and forming a union with the Cantos, not Alba. Ona was the one who loved Vincen, not Alba. Ona was the one who was supposed to save the family, not Alba. She had been perfectly happy to stay in the background and support Ona as she played the noble games. But now it was all backward. It wasn’t right. None of it was right; and as long as she didn’t think about it, as long as she kept talking to Ona’s shade and didn’t use Ona’s Skill then she could at least pretend that Ona was still with them. If she saw that gravesite though… If she saw proof that it was all real, that Ona was truly dead and gone…

When the carriage lurched to a stop Alba’s father climbed out and then helped Lady Marta step down while the driver secured the horses. Ona floated through the walls of the carriage and turned when she realized that Alba wasn’t following.

“Are you coming?” she asked. Alba was still sitting in her spot, her heart pounding and her ears ringing.

“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“What was that Mijita?” her father asked. He and Lady Lequette had turned back with worried looks on their faces.

“I can’t come,” she said a little stronger. “I – I’m sorry. I thought I could, but I can’t.” She was shaking her head. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest. She thought her mother was saying something, but all she could hear was the ringing in her ears. Ona floated back into the carriage and placed a hand under Alba’s chin as if to lift her head. Alba felt nothing.

“Hey,” Ona said gently. “It’s ok. I’m scared too. We can do this, though. You and me. Together.”

Alba nodded, steeling her resolve. She could do this. She owed it to her parents, who had been through so much. She had already robbed them of seeing her at the funeral, it was selfish to take this from them as well. She looked up, ready to stand, and met Ona’s eyes – those young, silvery-gray eyes that had once been so wonderfully, beautifully brown. Ona’s face blurred as she shifted out of focus, as shades often did, and Alba saw her parents on the other side, waiting and wondering what Ona was saying to her because they couldn’t hear or see her. And they never would again.

Something inside her broke.

The world froze in time around her. Ona stopped shifting in and out of focus, her parents stood cemented in place. The birds’ singing was silenced and the breeze stopped blowing. Even the flying insects and bits of pollen and dust that were blowing about hovered in their spots. Only Alba remained in motion, alone in her own world.

A calming wave washed over her, a brief relief from the panic she was feeling that she knew wouldn’t last. She savored the moment while she could. She breathed deeply, trying to calm the storm of emotions that were lurking just beneath the artificial calm brought by her Skill. She tried not to move or make any sounds, she knew that any motion from her would come with a loud and startling crack. In the meantime, she enjoyed the silence that came with moving faster than sound could travel.

The euphoria wore off – as it always did – and the weight of her emotions crashed down on her again. Her parents still stood outside the carriage, looking at her with worry. She could still see them through Ona as if she was looking through a fog. No matter how often she stopped time she could never reverse it. They were still in the graveyard, and Ona was still dead. Behind her parents, a short way up the hill, she saw a beautiful black marble headstone beneath a grand oak and knew that Ona’s body lay beneath it. Flowers and candles covered the stone, surrounding a portrait of Ona. Her chest tightened and she closed her eyes with a gasp. It was too late. She had seen it, and the image would forever be burned into her mind. It was the one thing she had never wanted to see. The one thing that made this whole nightmare real.

She had to get out of the carriage. She had to escape the beautiful, sunny, peaceful, and calm hillside that was trying so hard to sell the lie that everything was going to be ok. She turned away from Ona and her parents and pulled on the latch to the carriage door. In her panic she forgot to move slowly and the wood of the door shattered at her touch, powerless against the speed with which she was moving. She pushed the splinters aside as they hung in the air before her and jumped out, careful not to let her dress tear from any careless movement on her part. With the macabre reminder of reality behind her, she had an easier time getting her breathing under control. The pleasant aroma of the autumn air cleared her head a bit and she was left with a hollow emptiness inside. She found herself wishing she were back at the academy. A good session in the training rooms sparring with Kelso or practicing her ballet always helped when she found herself overwhelmed.

She looked at the little village of Marisette beside the river below her. Their hacienda was about four miles away, on the far side of the village. It was not a long run, but when her Skill was active every movement took far more stamina than it would under normal conditions. The farthest she had ever been able to run while using it had been six miles, and she was bedridden for two days afterward. That had been over two years ago, before Ona’s accident. After that, she just hadn’t had the urge to push herself so hard again. Today that was going to change. Today, she needed to push herself. She needed to feel alive. But most of all, she needed to forget. She slipped out of her colorful Marisetti skirt and jacket, leaving only her pantaloons and blouse on. The traditional dresses of her home province were far more comfortable and easy to move in than the fashionable dresses of the capital, but they were still not meant for running in. She tossed the bundle of clothing behind her and it hung in the air along with the splintered wood, no longer moving at her speed once she stopped touching it, and began to run.

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Ona was none too happy being unceremoniously dragged back to their bedroom when Alba eventually released her skill and the constraints of their bond had a chance to take effect. Alba had collapsed on her bed – sweaty, out of breath, and blissfully aware of how badly her body ached. The pain drove away all other thoughts. When Ona’s complaining failed to elicit the reaction she wanted from Alba she left to go ask Marie to draw a hot bath for her. The heat loosened up her tight muscles and the water washed away the sweat, leaving her exhausted and numb. Afterward, Marie had to work harder than usual to get her dressed in a nightgown and into bed even though it was not yet even noon. Marie never asked what had happened and Alba had no desire to explain – Ona had probably already done that for her anyway. She slept for the rest of the day, waking only once when her mother knocked at the door. She ignored her.

The next morning she woke up feeling better but foolish. Alba didn’t open her eyes but she knew Ona would be lying next to her, silently watching. Shades didn’t sleep and Ona spent her nights roaming around. She never told Alba what she was up to, but usually returned in time to be there when Alba woke. At the Academy, she had the other shades to keep her company but here at the estate she was alone and large sections of it were still inaccessible due to the security wards.

If Alba tried hard enough she could almost imagine that Ona really was lying next to her, just as she often had when she was alive; except that instead of feeling her weight pressing down on the mattress or the warmth of Ona’s body next to hers there was nothing, not even the sounds of movement. Shades were completely silent in all they did. Only her voice indicated that she was there at all. There was not even the sound of her breath, since shades didn’t breathe. She pushed those thoughts away. If she dwelt on them she would slip back into the mood she had wound up in yesterday. A part of Ona was still here, she would have to be grateful for that. It was a part she could see and talk to, which was more than her parents had.

“I’m sorry,” she said without opening her eyes.

“For what?” Ona asked, not surprised at all that Alba was awake.

“You didn’t get to see your gravesite,” she said as she rolled over and stared up at the fabric canopy that surrounded her bed. “I know you’ve been wanting to and I stole that chance because I was selfish. I’m sorry.”

Ona floated above her and looked her in the face. Alba was glad that she could still fly as a shade. She was born to fly, and even death hadn’t stopped her. “It’s ok,” she said. “We can try again some other time. But only when you’re ready. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard. I was the selfish one.”

“How are Mother and Father?” Alba asked. She chuckled as she imagined her mother’s reaction when they found her skirt and jacket beside the carriage.

“Father’s worried about you. Mother’s mostly going on about how childish you behaved and what good was paying all of our money to that school if you still were going about breaking everything every time you ran off?” A wicked glint caught her eyes and she giggled. “She was absolutely scandalized when she saw your skirt on the ground. She nearly fainted.”

“Well, soon enough I won’t be her problem anymore,” Alba said with a huff. “I’ll be Vincen’s, and at least he understands what it’s like being a mage.”

“Do you think we’ll have our own villa or live in the big estate?” Ona asked, her voice taking on a dreamy tone. Whenever the topic of the wedding came up she got like this. Sometimes Alba got the feeling that Ona forgot she wasn’t the one getting married.

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.” She mentally cringed, mad at herself for bringing up the subject. She and Vincen didn’t talk with each other very much to begin with, and when they did it was rarely about the engagement.

“He’s never going to bring it up on his own. You need to do it.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Alba said, rolling over and looking at the wall. “No need to rush it.”

“Yeah, but he needs the push to get things moving. You need to learn how to handle him.”

Alba turned and looked at her sister again. “I’ve known him as long as you have. I know how to handle him. It’s too early in the morning for this. Is Marie up yet?”

Ona huffed, “You both drive me crazy, you know?” She turned and floated from the room, returning a short while later with Marie in tow.

“Good morning, my Lady,” Marie said in her usual cheerful voice. She was wearing the simple black dress and white apron that lady's maids wore. Her silver Mereologist’s brooch was her only decoration. Her hair was done up in the popular bun women of the Empire were wearing those days. Her status as a lady’s maid meant she was not required to wear the white cap the regular maids wore.

“You can simply call me Alba when it's just us, Marie.”

“I know,” she said as she began bustling about in Alba’s closet. She came out with two dresses, one plain gray with a modern and stylish cut and the other printed with bright colors and flowers, cut in a flowing and traditional style with lots of lace and ruffles. “I don’t want to get into the habit though. If I slipped up in front of your mother I’d never hear the end of it. Which one?” She held the dresses up and Ona chose the colorful one before Alba could say anything. “It’s not for you, silly,” Marie said with a laugh.

“If I can’t change my own clothes at least let me have the pleasure of picking Alba’s every once in a while,” Ona said, crossing her arms and pouting. She looked down at her own outfit, gray and shimmering. “I wouldn’t have picked this dress that morning if I’d known I’d be stuck with it forever.”

“That one’s fine,” Alba said with a smile. She had been favoring Marisette’s traditional clothing lately anyway, and after yesterday she felt she owed Ona this much at least. She climbed out of bed and let Marie help her into the dress.

“We need to finish modifying the wards in the rest of the estate today,” Marie said when Alba had sat at her dressing table. Marie pulled the nightcap off Alba’s head and began brushing her hair.

“Can’t you and Ona handle that without me?” Alba asked.

“The wards need to learn your essence. Lady Ona’s isn’t strong enough, you know that.”

“I want to visit the gardens,” Ona said as she watched Marie working. “I still can’t get into them and I haven’t been there in ages.”

“Did Father really ward the entire estate against shades?” Alba asked.

“It seems so,” said Marie. “Before Ona, there were no shades in the family, so there was no reason to allow them free range of the grounds. No one wants an enemy shade spying out family secrets and it's much easier to make a ward against all shades than one which allows for exceptions.” Alba had to trust Marie on that subject. Wards and runes were the domain of mereologists, not mages.

“Very well,” sighed Alba. “We’ll begin after breakfast. It’s just so tedious.”

“I know, and I’m sorry you need to be there. I’d much rather handle it on my own.” She set the brush down and began braiding Alba’s hair. Since their return to Marisette Alba had been wearing it in the traditional single braid down her back.

“Are Father’s guests up yet?” Alba asked as she watched Marie in the mirror. She knew Ona was there too, but shades did not cast reflections.

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“I think so,” said Ona. “I saw Lady Alyona’s lady’s maid when I was looking for Marie earlier.” She paused for a moment. “I swear she can see me. I get a weird feeling that she’s looking right at me sometimes.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Alba as she fingered one of the flowers Marie had set aside for her hair.

Marie took the flower from Alba and placed it in her hair, just behind the ear. She then pulled a tin of powder from one of the dressing table’s drawers. “Her name’s Jana. She’s shown me a few things about applying rouge and lipstick properly. She’s a bit uptight but very knowledgeable. She’s no mage, though. She even asked me if you really existed, Lady Ona,” she added with a chuckle. Alba and Ona both looked at her in surprise. “There seems to be some doubt among the staff,” Marie explained with a grin. Ona huffed indignantly and Alba found she was chuckling despite herself.

Marie began powdering Alba’s face which effectively ended the conversation. After the powdering was done she applied a very light blush to Alba’s cheeks and just a hint of color to her lips, which was then dabbed off. Makeup was frowned upon in high society, but that didn’t stop upper-class women from using it discreetly. After applying the makeup Marie pinned on Alba’s golden mage’s brooch and then stood back to admire her work.

Ona looked at her with a smile. “You look lovely, as usual,” she said.

“Your sister is right, my Lady,” said Marie. “The Marisetti style suits you well.”

“I should hope so,” said Alba as she stood up and smoothed down the dress. “It is my home province.”

“Yes, but it’s only been these last few weeks that I’ve been able to see you wearing your native style. I’m not quite used to it, though it is growing on me.”

They left the room together and Marie took her leave at the end of the hall before heading to the servant’s wing for her own breakfast. As they approached the doors to the dining hall Alba stopped short. A stranger was walking towards the hall from the guest wing. He was well-dressed but still had a hard, almost scruffy look about him that instantly told Alba he was not of noble birth.

“Oh,” said Ona. “Mr. Codina. I did not expect to see him here.”

“You know this man?” asked Alba.

“He is in charge of the Canto’s gas operations at the Fire Lake. We met at the graduation.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Well, I saw him. We were never formally introduced, of course. Prince Andreu wanted Father to meet him. I believe he left before you came in.”

They met at the door and Mr. Codina greeted Alba with a bow. “Señora Maga Alba, it is a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a raspy voice. He had the distinctive accent of Marisette’s northern regions. “I am Eloi Codina, administrator of the operations at El Lago Maldito.”

Alba smiled and allowed him to kiss her hand. “A pleasure, Mr. Codina. My sister, Lady Ona, is here with us as well. She tells me she has met you once before already.”

Alba was pleasantly surprised to see that Mr. Codina did not appear discomforted in the slightest. Fear of shades – indeed, superstition of any sort – was strong in the more rural regions of Marisette where he was from. Mr. Codina looked in Ona’s direction and bowed. “Señora Ona, forgive my ignorance. It is an honor to meet you as well. I assume it was at the graduation ceremony when you saw me? If I had but known I should have liked to greet you properly.”

Ona giggled. “Tell him I was going incognito at the time.”

Alba shot her sister a glare. She would do nothing of the sort. “Ona is pleased to meet you as well, and assures you there is nothing to forgive.”

“Spoilsport,” Ona said with a pout.

“What brings you to our hacienda, Mr. Codina?” Alba asked, ignoring Ona.

“Your father invited me, Señora Maga. He wishes me to meet Lord Matvie so we may discuss the state of the gas industry in the Empire’s northern territories. They are in desperate need of infrastructure to support it. I arrived last night, while you were resting.”

“Fascinating,” said Alba, embarrassed by the reminder of her outburst. She hoped this stranger did not know the details. “I pray your meeting is a successful one.”

“As do I,” said Mr. Codina. He gestured to the door. “Shall we, ladies?”

“I’m going for a flight around the estate,” Ona said. Alba rolled her eyes. She was used to this. Ona never stayed for meals; it was too hard for her to watch everyone else eating while she couldn’t, especially since her parents insisted on setting a plate for her. Alba had tried explaining it to her parents but they still didn’t seem to understand. It was just one more example of how they never listened to her.

“Mother and Father will want you there, especially since we have guests,” Alba said while Mr. Codina politely waited.

“Just pretend I’m there. I don’t care.”

“Mother won’t be happy when she realizes you keep skipping out.”

“You told her I don’t like watching everyone else eat. Besides, how’s she going to stop me? She can’t tie me to the chair or anything.” She grinned and flew off through the wall.

Alba sighed and turned to Mr. Codina. “I apologize on behalf of my sister. She will not be joining us for breakfast. If I could impose upon you not to mention this to my parents I would be most grateful.”

“Your secrets are safe with me, Señora Maga,” he replied with a smile then he opened the door. She noticed his hands for the first time. The skin was wrinkled and covered in scar tissue. She repressed a shudder.

Alba averted her gaze from his hands, smiled gratefully, and walked through the doors. Her parents were already at the table visiting with their other guests, Lord Matvei and his wife, Lady Alyona. Lord Matvei had arrived a few days prior and her father had invited them to stay after the meeting and accompany them to the announcement ceremony. Despite a large gap in both status and age, the two men were becoming fast friends. Alba had only met them once so far on the evening they first arrived, but they seemed to be an amicable couple.

Marquess Lequette and Lord Matvei stood up as she walked in. Her mother and Lady Alyona remained seated as was customary for women. Her mother smiled pleasantly which instantly set Alba on guard. Her mother rarely had a smile for her, even when company was present.

“Good morning, Mijita,” said the Marquess. “I see you’ve met Mr. Codina already.”

“Good morning, Father,” she said, shaking off her unease and walking over with a smile while Mr. Codina closed the door behind them. “We just met at the door.” She kissed him on each cheek, his beard scratching her in the familiar way she loved.

Lord Matvei bowed. “Good morning, Lady Mage Alba.”

She smiled and allowed him to kiss her hand. “Good morning, Lord Matvei. Please forgive my absence yesterday. I trust you are finding my family’s hospitality acceptable?”

“More than acceptable, my Lady,” he replied with a smooth voice deeper than his youthful face implied. He had blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and pale white skin. “I'm afraid Alyona and I will find it difficult to return to Clement after the announcement ceremony is over. The grandeur of the Lequette estate — your hacienda as you call it — far outstrips our humble little villa.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” Alba said with a smile. Mr. Codina took his turn greeting her Father and Lord Matvie while Alba moved on to her mother. She kissed her on the cheeks and was greeted by the same smile that had placed her on edge a minute earlier. Her mother was clearly still angry about her outburst the day before. “Good morning, Mami,” she said, hoping to placate her a little by using a word from her childhood.

“Good morning, Mijita,” her mother replied after returning the kiss. If she noticed the term of affection – which Alba was certain she had – she chose to ignore it. “I do hope you are feeling better today.”

“Much better, thank you, Mami,” Alba said with growing trepidation.

“I’m so glad. I was afraid you might have caught a cold.” Marquess Lequette coughed and Lady Lequette turned her attention back to their guest. “Lady Alyona and I so missed your company yesterday. You will join us today, yes? We still have not seen that calligraphy demonstration you promised us.”

“Indeed, Mami,” Alba said, using all her effort to remain smiling. Her mother was furious, she had even forgotten to ask after Ona. She would be hearing little quips for the rest of the day at the least, she was certain. She suppressed a sigh. She didn’t know if she had the stamina to endure a whole day of thinly veiled insults. She turned and smiled at Lady Alyona. “Good morning, Lady Alyona. It is good to see you. I am sorry I was unable to visit with you yesterday. Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, my Lady,” said Lady Alyona. She was young, maybe in her mid-twenties at the most, with the fair skin and blonde hair common in the northern provinces. Unlike her husband, however, her eyes were green. She wore a dress that was remarkably similar to the one Alba had worn at her graduation. At dinner on the night they arrived Alyona had lamented that Clement’s distance from the Capital meant that they were always behind the times when it came to the latest fashions, something she planned to remedy on their trip to Albaron City. “I do hope you are feeling better today. You must be bubbling over with questions about your wedding and I do so look forward to sharing my experience with you. Lord Matvei and I have been married for a little more than five years now but it seems like our wedding was only yesterday. Lady Ona is welcome to join us as well, of course.” She smiled at the empty air next to Alba.

“We both look forward to it, Lady Alyona,” Alba said with a smile and a nod while cringing inside. Lady Alyona had shown great interest in her engagement to Vincen and so far she had managed to avoid getting dragged into a long and uncomfortable conversation with her about it. She stepped towards her place at the table and a footman moved forward to pull out her chair. A second footman pulled out a seat for Ona. Alba repressed another sigh. Even if Ona had been there, she couldn’t have used a chair. It was one more thing her parents just didn’t understand. The footman pushed her seat in for her as she sat, a maneuver she had perfected as a child. The men, who had been politely waiting for her, took their seats as well. The poor footman in charge of Ona’s chair didn’t seem to know what to do so she had mercy on him and discreetly waved him off. He pushed the empty seat back in so it was level with Alba’s and gratefully backed away with a small bow. She smiled apologetically at him.

The butler rang a small silver bell and the servants brought in their breakfast on covered trays, including a plate for Ona. Alba thanked the footman who served her and then thanked the other footman who had served Ona’s place, though she found the practice ridiculous and wasteful. The footman was a blonde, pale-skinned young man she had never seen before. Most of the staff she remembered from her childhood were either gone or grown so much older that she barely knew them anymore.

When everyone was served, Alba, Mr. Codina, and her parents all bowed their heads. Lord Matvei and Lady Alyona watched quietly as Marquess Lequette gave thanks for the food.

“For the bread we are about to receive, we give thanks,” he said.

“May we bring you glory with the life it provides,” Alba and the others recited as they touched their lips and then their hearts. Alba wondered how much glory Ona’s life could have possibly brought the Master, cut as needlessly short as it had been.

“I’m surprised to see religion so openly practiced in such a prominent household,” observed Lord Matvei as they began their meal.

“We are a traditional people,” said Marquess Lequette as he tucked his napkin into his collar. “You will find few in Marisette who do not pray in their own homes, despite the Empire’s view on the matter.”

“Do I detect a hint of dissent?” Lord Matvei asked with an easy smile.

“One can remain loyal without agreeing on every detail,” replied her father. “A concept the King understands, and many eager young noblemen seem to forget.” He gave Lord Matvei a pointed look as he spoke the words. “Besides, religion may be discouraged, but it is not illegal.”

“Well, I find it refreshing,” said Lady Alyona. “I wish we had such traditions in Clement.”

“I’m afraid I will be rather indisposed this morning,” Alba cut in as she began peeling her boiled egg. She had no wish to begin the morning talking about politics and religion. “Marie has requested my assistance in modifying the rest of the wards around the hacienda so that Ona may have more freedom here at home.”

“Is that not a task your maid can handle on her own?” asked Marquess Lequette looking sharply up from his plate. “I admit to a certain degree of ignorance on the subject, but surely a lady of your status should not be required for such a menial task?”

“Unfortunately not, Father,” said Alba, glad to have steered the subject away from politics. “The runes need to learn Ona’s essence in order to allow her through. Shades have very little essence of their own, and since mine is identical to hers, it must be used instead.”

“We have many wards at El Lago,” said Mr. Codina. “Mostly for safety purposes, to prevent combustion and such. Though there are of course security wards as well. It takes an entire team of Mereologists to maintain them all.”

“How fascinating,” said Lord Matvei. “Our villa is warded against shades too, of course, and there are many ancient runes left over from the old days. I admit I never gave much thought to the process behind creating them”

“I’m afraid I only have a basic understanding of the subject myself," Alba said. "My maid, Marie, is a Mereologist who specializes in runes. In such matters I find I must defer to her expertise.”

“I am surprised the King has allowed such an accomplished young woman to remain as a domestic. I would have expected someone with such skills to be put to use elsewhere,” said Lady Alyona as she finished peeling her egg. She examined it for a moment before setting it on her plate and slicing into it.

“The girl graduated top of her class,” explained the Marquess. “She expressed an interest in serving Alba. Academy tradition allows the top graduate their choice of assignments, within reason.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and then took a drink of coffee. “Considering Ona’s…” he trailed off, looking towards Ona’s empty seat, and Alba suppressed a groan. Somehow the conversation always seemed to circle back around to Ona’s death. “Considering Ona’s special circumstances, it was decided that having a mage attending to our daughters was for the best in any case. Matters such as the wards we were just discussing are a testament to such necessity.”

The conversation lagged and Alba gratefully focused on her meal. She was surprised her mother hadn’t directed the conversation over to Ona as she frequently did whenever her sister was mentioned. In fact, her mother had been uncharacteristically quiet during the meal, which had Alba concerned.

“Our son started at the King’s Academy in Albaron City last year,” Alyona calmly remarked as Alba neared the end of her meal, breaking the awkward silence as if the conversation had never paused.

“So I have heard,” said the Marquess. “How does Lord Kilian find the academy? I remember my days there quite fondly.”

“He likes it well enough,” said Lord Matvei as he set his cutlery down and a footman began clearing their plates. “Though he has been going on and on about how he wishes he had been born a mage so he could attend school in Savaria. I’m afraid he rather idolizes you and your sister, Lady Alba.”

“I’m sorry he could not accompany you on this trip, Lord Matvei,” replied Alba as she smiled at the young footman who removed her plate. “I’m certain Kilian and I would be good friends.”

“Yes,” said Alyona. “He’s rather enamored with shades. He was quite upset about missing a chance to meet Lady Ona, even if he couldn’t see her.” She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh — oh my,” she stammered. “I’m afraid we have been rather neglecting Lady Ona this morning.” She looked at the empty seat next to Alba with apologetic eyes. “Please forgive me, my Lady.”

Alba had to work hard to suppress a grimace. She made a mental note to yell at Ona later for skipping out on breakfast. She didn’t mind pretending that Ona was around when it was just her and her parents, at times she even had fun with it, but their guests hadn’t done anything to warrant such deception. They seemed like genuinely nice people, and they deserved to be treated with respect.

“Please don’t worry about it,” Alba said with as reassuring a smile as she could muster. She noticed the hint of a grin playing at the edge of Mr. Codina’s mouth as he quickly took a drink of his coffee “She doesn’t mind, honestly. We have gotten rather used to it. She doesn’t expect to converse much unless we are in the company of other mages.”

“Indeed,” Lady Marta said, breaking her silence and surprising Alba slightly. “She rarely even converses with her own parents these days.” She was glaring at Ona’s empty seat with an accusing look Alba was all too familiar with. She found herself wishing Ona was actually there to receive it. This was one case where she felt it was deserved, though not for the reasons her mother was thinking.

“Marta…” Marquess Lequette warned quietly. Lady Marta sniffed and turned her attention to her tea.

Marquess Lequette sighed and exchanged a look with Lord Matvei, then turned his attention to Mr. Codina. “I am looking forward to visiting the fire lake next month, Mr. Codina.”

Lady Marta’s eyes shot up. “Oh? What’s this?”

“I have asked Mr. Codina to give me a tour of the lake,” explained Marquess Lequette. “If I am to manage the operations for the throne, then I should familiarize myself with them, don’t you think?”

“Well, yes…” said Alba’s mother. “I suppose. But El Lago Maldito is just so… well, I don’t like it.”

“It is no place for Ladies, I agree,” said Mr. Codina. “It can be hot and dirty and there is little in the way of comfort, though Prince Canto is generous in allowing the use of his casa. I assure you, the Marquess will be safe, Señora Lequette.”

Lady Marta sniffed once again and took another sip of tea. Alyona smiled nervously as her eyes drifted between Alba’s parents before fixing them on Alba. “How was the Mage’s Academy, Lady Mage Alba? Kilian would be devastated if I came home without a first-hand account.”

“Well I can’t say for certain, of course,” replied Alba, glad to change the subject, “but I can’t imagine it’s all that different from the King’s Academy.”

Alyona giggled, which made her suddenly seem younger and more girl-like. Alba found herself liking the young woman despite her earlier impressions. “Come now, you can’t be serious, my Lady. Every student there is in possession of powers the rest of us cannot even fathom, and you commune with the departed as if it is nothing unusual at all.”

Alba smiled and allowed herself to blush slightly, a skill that had not been easy to develop. As far as she was concerned everything about her situation with Ona was unusual. “You make it sound so exotic, Lady Alyona. It truly was not that interesting most of the time. We studied many of the same subjects as any other student, I am sure.”

“Yes, but it is the additional subjects that I am curious about. How did they teach you and Lady Ona to use your magic, for instance?”

“We call them Skills, not magic,” said Alba, correcting the common misconception. “What we do bears little resemblance to storybook fantasy, though some would argue that the mereologists’ rune work comes close. We generally avoid the term altogether.” She was glad Marie hadn’t been there to hear Lady Alyona call it “magic.” That was one thing sure to set her off on a rant, which of course meant Alba would have to endure the brunt of it when they were next alone together.

“To answer your question though,” she continued. “They mostly just allow us a safe place to practice.” Lady Marta scoffed at that and immediately turned back to her tea. Alba tried to continue as if nothing had happened. “Even when mages possess similar skills there are always some minor differences that are unique to the mage in question, making a standardized curriculum difficult. Instead, the professors try to instruct us in as many courses related to our Skills as they can, in order to assist us in learning how to maximize our efficiency. In Ona’s case that entailed studying weather patterns and learning how to navigate in less-than-ideal conditions or with limited visibility. It can be quite complicated and requires a deep understanding of mathematics.”

Alba noticed her mother’s face harden at her words and realized that they had not yet had a chance to discuss the details of her and Ona’s education. The Academy was not in the habit of informing the student’s parents of the finer details of their schooling and her mother was firm in her opinion that women’s education should consist of the feminine arts and little else.

“Mathematics,” Alyona said with raised eyebrows. “I admit I never did take to the subject myself. Anything more than basic calculations simply makes my head swim. I must say I’m impressed.”

“Indeed,” agreed Alba. Ona always had been much smarter than she let people think she was. It frankly made Alba jealous of how easily Ona’s studies came to her. “I never much cared for the subject either. The instructors were gracious enough to continue instructing Ona after her…” Alba paused and took in a deep breath. It was still hard to say at times, even a few years later. “… after her accident. Even though she could not graduate, of course, her mind is still as sharp as ever.” She had been warned that her sister would continue to learn and grow in many ways, but that her maturity level would most likely remain where it had been when she died. “I always preferred the arts myself,” she said, shaking away that train of thought.

“Yes, your mother tells me you are quite the calligraphy artist,” said Alyona, her eyes lighting up. “Are there any other courses you studied?”

Alba’s smile was genuine this time. “Oh yes, as many as I could. Painting, pottery, dance, and music, though I am far better at dancing than pianoforte — Ona was brilliant with the cello, though. She and Lord Vincen used to play such wonderful duets…” she stopped and looked down. She had not meant to say that.

Lady Alyona smiled sympathetically. “I am curious though. How does studying the arts help with your Skill? Isn’t speed your specialty?”

Alba smiled, silently thanking Alyona for overlooking her comment about Vincen and keeping the conversation on-topic. “The hardest part about my Skill is controlling myself while using it,” she explained, aware of her parent's attention. “When I was young and used my Skill I was always breaking nearly everything I touched. It doesn’t matter how sturdy something is, even stone becomes like fine china when I’m moving faster than the eye can see.”

Marquess Lequette chuckled. “It’s true. Our poor staff became quite adept at replacing doors and repairing walls.”

Lady Marta scoffed.

“But, forgive me, my Lady,” said Lord Matvei, “what about your body? I can’t imagine that exerting enough force to break stone wouldn’t cause some measure of harm to your own person. No one is strong enough to withstand such strain.”

“I had a few classmates who are,” Alba said, allowing herself a twinge of satisfaction at the raised eyebrows her comment gained. “But I am not one of them. My Skill protects my body from the forces of moving at such speed. If it did not, I could not survive. My internal organs would be crushed as soon as I began moving. It only works while my Skill is active, though. Otherwise, I’m as fragile as any other person.”

“That is quite enough of that,” said Lady Marta. “This is hardly an appropriate subject for the breakfast table.”

“I find it quite fascinating,” said Lord Matvei. “So, if I understand what you’re saying, studying the fine arts was a way for you to learn how to better control your actions while at high speed?”

Alba nodded, enjoying the conversation. This was the most she had been able to talk about herself since before her graduation. Usually, people wanted to talk about Ona or her impending union with Vincen. The fact that her mother was uncomfortable with the subject only added to her enjoyment. “The arts helped with my fine motor control, but dance and…” she paused, almost saying too much. “... and other subjects helped me with my muscle tone and overall conditioning.”

“I must say it has worked,” said Alyona. “I’ve never seen a lady quite as graceful as you.”

Alba flushed for real this time. “You flatter me, Lady Alyona. I only strive to use my Skill to the best of my ability, for the good of the Empire.”

“For the good of the Empire,” everyone in the room echoed softly.

“What ‘other subjects’ were you referring to?” her mother asked suddenly, her voice cold.

“Marta…” Marquess Lequette said, sounding weary.

“No,” she said firmly. “We are obviously continuing along this ridiculous line of conversation and insisting on talking about the place that is responsible for killing my daughter – so I’m curious, Alba, what other subjects did you mean?”

Lady Alyona nervously wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked at the table while Lord Matvei and Mr. Codina sipped their coffee. Marquess Lequette glared at Lady Marta but said nothing else. Alba had the feeling he secretly wanted to hear her answer. She sighed. She had brought up the topic, and the truth would have had to come out at some point, though she would have preferred it not to be in front of company.

“Ballet, mostly,” she began – stalling. “I was prima ballerina for three years.”

“As I would expect from a Lequette,” said her father, looking relieved. Lady Marta was not as easily swayed.

“You mentioned dance already. What else?”

“Some exercise techniques to help with flexibility and maintaining control of my actions. It’s remarkably difficult to move slowly and carefully at all times.”

“Don’t try to fool me or change the subject,” said her mother in the calm, cool way she had when she was angry. “I took ballet when I was younger and I know what it involves. Exercise and stretching are all part of it. There’s something else. What are you not saying?”

A wave of rebellion washed over Alba. “Martial arts,” she blurted out. Why should she hide it from her parents? Nothing else she had ever done had helped as much. The smooth, flowing movements and breathing techniques of the martial arts had helped her reach a level of control over her body rivaled only by ballet. “I took martial arts, mother. And I’m good at it. Very good.”

Lady Marta’s face turned hard as stone and Lady Alyona gasped quietly. Alba glared at her mother, daring her to say something, anything.

“Matvei, Mr. Codina,” said her father quietly. “Would you be so kind…?”

“Of course, my Lord,” said Lord Matvei, standing up. He motioned for Lady Alyona to do the same.

“Señor, Señoras,” said Mr. Codina with a bow before he departed with the others. The butler and footmen quietly slipped out the side.

When Alba was alone with her parents Lady Marta spoke again, very slowly and very clearly. “You mean to say they taught you to — fight? Like a common soldier?”

“They don’t teach simple soldiers martial arts, mother.”

“I don’t care if they only teach Lord Commanders the martial arts. No daughter of mine will be taught combat techniques,” said Marquess Lequette. “What are they thinking? Teaching women how to fight? This is Albaron, not the colonies. It’s barbaric.”

“It’s less about fighting and more about control and discipline, father. It taught me about how my body moves and what my limitations are. I learned observation and improved my reflexes. I learned how to control my actions and limit my strength when necessary. Even ballet couldn’t teach me most of that.”

“None of that should be necessary for a lady in the first place,” her mother said. “You are marrying a duke, what need will there be for observation and — and reflexes?”

“Indeed,” said her father. “Those skills are useful for men and soldiers, not for women, and certainly not for one of my daughters.” It was true that there had only been a few other girls in her class, and some of the instructors had not been pleased that a noble lady was taking such a curse, but the results had been undeniable so the matter was never pressed.

She felt her face growing hot. She activated her Skill and allowed the rush of euphoria to wash away her anger. Her face cooled off and a smile graced her lips while her parents looked on, unseeing statues in her own private world. She took a few more moments to compose herself and focused on her breathing as she had been taught. When her heartbeat had slowed sufficiently she smoothly stood up, pushing her chair back only as much as necessary. She reached over to her mother and very carefully took her teacup and saucer from in front of her and moved them to the center of the table. She then went around the table to her father and did the same with his coffee cup, setting it on top of her mother’s teacup. She then sat back down in her seat and released her Skill. A loud crack resounded in the room and her parents jumped, her mother let out a small shriek.

“Don’t do that, Alba!” she said, placing a hand on her heart.

“Look,” Alba said firmly, pointing at the cups. Her parents both looked where she was pointing. “I never could have done that when I was younger. I’ve improved so much over the years, can’t you see?”

“It is impressive, Mijita…” her father began.

“But it has absolutely no place in a lady’s life,” said her mother. “What use could you possibly have for such a thing? It’s not even appropriate for parties. You would do much better focusing on your pianoforte. Even you admit it needs improvement.”

“I have a use for it because it’s who I am,” she said, the heat rising once again. She felt like she had been arguing in circles like this with her parents for years. “I can’t stop using it any more than you can stop your hair from growing. It’s a part of me, just like Ona’s was a part of her.”

“Don’t bring Ona into this,” said her mother. “She can speak for herself.”

“Can she?” asked Alba, and her mother’s face paled. She knew she should stop before she took things too far, but she was just so tired of holding it all in.

“These ‘Skills’ as you so proudly call them have brought nothing but trouble and ruin to our house,” said Lady Marta, her voice as cool as ice.

“Ona’s Skill wasn’t responsible for her death. Someone else’s was.”

“It was still mage’s work. Nothing good comes from mages.”

“I’m a mage, Mother. So was Ona. Do you wish we weren’t?”

Her mother’s silence was all the answer she needed and the tightness that had been building in her chest reached its limit.

“Only twins are mages,” she said quietly, hating herself for what she was about to say, yet resolved to say it anyway. “If we weren’t twins, which of us would you have chosen?”

“Alba,” said her father. “How could you…? We would never…”

“Never mind,” she said, staring at her mother’s ashen face while her heart pounded in her ears. “Ona’s dead already, so it doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say such things in front of her?” said Lady Marta, her voice breaking. Tears were gathering in her eyes.

“She’s not here!” Alba said. She was yelling now. “She never comes to meals!” The image of that beautiful yet grotesque headstone filled her mind. It was the one thing she had never wanted to see, and would now forever be with her. She laughed – even though it wasn’t funny – and the words poured out of her. She couldn’t stop now even if she had wanted to. “What’s the point? She can’t eat! She can’t talk to anyone. No one can see her.” She waved her arms towards the chair at the table. “This – this is a lie. All of it. She doesn’t need chairs or table settings. She doesn’t need her own bed. Dead people can’t use those things, so stop pretending that she can! She’s gone – and she’s never coming back. So just… just stop. Stop pretending that it's ok!”

A small gasp from behind broke Alba out of her frenzy and made her blood run cold. She slowly turned and saw Ona floating near the closed doors, a look of shock on her face and silver tears glistening in her eyes.

“Ona…” she said. “Ona — I—” she tried to think of something she could say that would fix what she had just done but the look of betrayal in Ona’s gray eyes told her there was nothing she could say. So instead she activated her Skill and ran, not even bothering to open the doors, leaving splintered wood and tears in her wake.

END OF CHAPTER EIGHT