Ona
Ona left Rayna with Vincen and gave her report to Nahuel. He still creeped her out a little, but after seeing how fiercely he worked to protect Aarmond she was at least glad he was on their side. After that, she spent the rest of the night flying about the palace grounds and beyond, testing the limits of the Bond as usual. It had been nearly a year since it had last grown and she was beginning to fear that it had reached its maximum distance, which was a little more than half a mile. It was a fairly respectable distance. Most shades could only go a quarter mile or so from their siblings — though a few could go a whole mile. She had always hoped she would be one of them. It would mean Alba was among the strongest mages, and of course, allow her more freedom to explore.
She had only been in the Capital for a few days and had already seen nearly everything she could. Not that there was a whole lot to see, to be honest, but it was better than staying in the palace all night long. Despite having many mages on staff, there were no other shades staying at the palace. As a rule, mages left their service in the palace once they had a shade bonded to them. It was a tradition that was started when most mages who served the Throne did so in a military capacity. This was seen as a sign of respect for the sacrifice the twins had made for their king. One sibling giving their life to the Throne was service enough. The surviving twin could live out the rest of their days in peace. Ona thought it was a nice tradition, but it made the nights particularly lonely for her, especially since she was still keeping her distance from her family. Before the attack, Vincen and Kelso were the only people she had spoken to in weeks.
The rioting that had distracted the halberdiers and given Borden his chance to attack had died down by mid-morning the next day and a strict curfew was being enforced by the city guard, leaving the city eerily quiet. The palace was in the middle of Albaron City, which meant Ona’s view was mostly just rooftops made hazy by the white smoke of thousands of chimneys. She breathed in the pleasant smell of wood smoke, glad once again that her sense of smell hadn’t been taken along with the numerous other things she had lost when she died. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the sharp bite the cold night air should have made in her lungs and the way the smoke would tickle her nose, maybe even making her sneeze, something she had not done since she died. For a brief moment, she recalled all those sensations and could almost imagine she felt them, but then they were gone. It was getting harder and harder to remember exactly what cold, or heat, or anything else had once felt like. The few things she could feel now that she was a shade were so different from anything she had ever felt in life that they did nothing to keep the old memories alive. If anything they helped drive them away even faster.
She sighed and tried to push those thoughts away. She couldn’t afford to keep feeling sorry for herself anymore. Too much had changed. Too much was about to change. She heard the sounds of heavy boots on the streets below and saw a pair of guards pass beneath her, their footsteps echoing against the buildings. She tried to remember the name of the street they were on, but it was no use. One street looked just like the next to her. Albaron City was fairly new by city standards, and the sleek, angular shape of the concrete buildings reflected that modernness. The city planners had elected to go for efficiency and convenience over aesthetics and as a result the buildings weren’t nearly as nice to look at as those of Marisette or Savaria. Those cities were truly ancient and had many varied structures made of wood, brick, clay, and stone, and had both been around for hundreds or even thousands of years before the Empire existed. The occasional glow of one type of ward or another on a wall was the only thing that broke up the monotony of Albaron City’s dull concrete architecture, and some of the more distinctive wards acted as landmarks for her, but those were mostly in the rich district that she had left behind a quarter-mile ago. Dark smoke filled the sky in the west, towards the river, marking the train yards and the industrial quarter. She desperately wanted to go exploring there, but it was well beyond her range and even if circumstances hadn’t been what they were, the chances of getting Alba to tour that particular part of the city were laughably small.
Below her, the guards rounded the corner at the end of the block and Ona was alone once more. Ona could sense the tension in the street’s silence and the guards were on high alert looking for signs of anyone trying to start more rioting. They rarely looked up enough to notice her, though, but when they did they continued on without challenging her. They all knew who she was, and shades were little threat to anyone.
She was glad Alba was leaving in the morning. Aarmond – King Aarmond – informed her of the plan when he asked her to talk to Rayna for him. She hated leaving Vincen behind, but she had no desire to be caught in another battle. The sounds of people fighting and the screams of the hurt and dying still haunted her, and probably always would. She had felt so useless. All around her people were fighting and dying and there was absolutely nothing she could do to help. Even Alba had joined the fight, using her Skill to devastating effect. The only thing Ona could do was watch: watch as her friends were nearly killed, watch as her sister crashed into a wall, watch as new shades appeared all around her, seeing their fear and confusion in the instant before the Bond pulled them away to join their twins, watch the sky above light up as the dead who had no twin took their final journey.
She wanted to get as far away from this place and its memories as possible. She knew Borden was behind the riots. There was no proof of course, but she knew anyway. So did Aarmond and everyone else. Borden escaped, and whatever his plan was, she knew he wasn’t done yet and Vincen would get caught up in whatever was next — she knew it as certainly as she knew anything.
She was trying hard not to blame Rayna for what happened. She had grown up in Borden’s house and called the man Father, yet she seemed to know nothing about what had happened. She appeared to be just as shocked by his violent actions as the rest, and Nahuel had cleared her of any suspicion. Ona wanted to trust her. She wanted to believe Rayna didn’t mean Vincen any harm and that he was safe with her around. But how could they trust someone who was raised in the same house as the man who had just murdered almost the entire royal family? In the end, none of Ona’s concerns mattered anyway. The girl was a shade now, and she was bound to Vincen. No matter how anyone felt about it they were stuck with each other until he died. Ona just prayed that Rayna’s presence didn't hasten that occurrence.
The one question no one had asked yet was just how exactly Rayna had died. Ona wanted to, but that was taboo among shades — no shade liked to talk about their death and would never ask another shade to speak of their own. It was one reason Ona made light of her own demise, laughing it off as a joke. If Aarmond wanted that information someone still living would have to ask. She had done her part and gotten a feel for Rayna’s attitude. The rest was up to Aarmond and the halberdiers.
She continued flying over the city. The further she got from Alba the more the Bond tugged against her until eventually, she could go no farther. A raw, primal, and all too familiar fear rose up in her the moment she reached the limit: She had to return to Alba. She had to make sure she was ok. If she didn’t return now something terrible was going to happen.
She pushed those thoughts away with practiced effort. They were lies, created by the Bond and designed to tie her to her twin. Every shade’s Bond was different, Ona had learned, and every shade hated theirs as much as she hated hers. She couldn’t go any further — the very idea was terrifying — but she could resist the urge to fly back. That, at least, she had some control over. She would not return to her sister in a panic as she had so many times those first few months. She was stronger than that now.
Another shade flew past, this one a man who looked to be in his forties. Ona had met with a few of the new shades after the attack. Most were no longer in Albaron City, having been whisked away to whatever post their surviving twin was at, but she had felt compelled to visit those who remained. She tried to be welcoming to them — as she had with Rayna — and help ease their transition into their new existence. The shades at the Academy had done the same for her, it was the least she could do. Many of them seemed to be adjusting well. They were trained soldiers, after all, and had been well-prepared for such an occurrence. Some of them were not soldiers, however, and were more shaken up by it. Those visits had been harder. Rayna, on the other hand, almost seemed not to care at all. Her indifference was odd, and not what Ona had expected. Even as prepared as Ona had been, her own experience was fairly traumatic — it still haunted her at times — but this girl seemed to just brush it off as a mere inconvenience.
This shade passing her now was not one of the new ones. She had seen him once or twice before already during her nightly rounds. They nodded politely at each other before he continued on his way. Shades could not sleep, so of course the night belonged to them. Some people — especially the ignorant and uneducated — thought they consorted with each other, gathering together and praying to the Liar or performing unholy rituals. It was ridiculous, of course. Shades had no more knowledge of what lay beyond than anyone else. And besides, the Bond made such gatherings nearly impossible. It was an unspoken rule among shades that nights were sacred. It was a time when they could be alone; apart from their siblings and free to meditate or pursue their own interests – a time to find whatever rest they could make for themselves.
Very few people knew what shades did at night, even Alba didn’t know everything Ona did. She had asked a few times early on, but Ona only answered vaguely, compelled by instinct not to tell. She had been troubled by that at first. She and Alba had never kept secrets from each other before and she was not inclined to start now just because she had become a shade. Yet whenever the subject came up she found herself resistant to the idea of talking about it. She asked one of the senior shades at the academy why and learned that it was an instinct all shades shared. The night was theirs. It was not intended for the living. Of course, this secrecy only encouraged outrageous and superstitious beliefs, especially since the truth was so mundane. Most shades just wandered about aimlessly within the limits of their Bond or pursued intellectual hobbies.
Ona hovered above the rooftops ignoring the urge to rush back to Alba. She watched the horizon as the stars began to slowly disappear and the sky turned from gray to orange. The last few weeks apart from Alba had been hard. She still didn’t fully understand why she had been hiding from everyone all this time. She just knew that Alba was right. She was dead now, and dead people weren’t supposed to be around still, pretending like everything was normal. So, she stopped. Stopped pretending. Stopped talking to others. Stopped… being. But now? What now? She couldn’t keep hiding forever. Alba was hurt. There was nothing Ona could have done to prevent it, but she could at least be there for her now. She could keep her company and tell her about what was going on outside while she was stuck in bed recovering. She could be a familiar face as they moved to unfamiliar territory. She could be a friend and sister to her once more. The words she had told Rayna about being there for Vincen echoed in her ears, condemning her for her hypocrisy.
She couldn’t be there for Vincen. It wasn’t her place. They weren’t getting married anymore. He had Rayna to focus on now and his wedding with Alba to plan. He was growing up, moving on. Living. There was no room for Ona in his life anymore. It had been fun while it lasted. It had been amazing. But her time with him was over. She had to be there for Alba now. She could do that. She had to do that. She had wallowed in self-pity long enough. She smiled as the first few birds began waking up and singing. The sun started to rise on the horizon, the stars in the sky getting replaced by orange sparkles on the rooftops as the sun hit the morning dew. There was a chill in the air – she couldn't feel it, but a few of the guards below were rubbing at their arms. Just one more thing she missed. She had always loved the dawn, even as a little girl, and one of her few joys as a shade was getting to watch the sunrise every morning. She tried to never miss one. They were all different, each one beautiful in its own unique way. She sighed. It was time to stop ignoring her duty and return to Alba’s side.
She took one last look at the horizon. It was getting brighter, though for her that only meant the sky changed from gray to orange as the sun rose higher. She closed her eyes and relaxed, finally giving in to the Bond’s urging. She let it pull her back to her sister – her Bond-Mate. Her reason for existing.
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Alba was still asleep in her private quarters. Only her head was visible outside the covers, but that alone was enough to make Ona’s stomach churn. Alba’s face was black and swollen on one side where she had crashed into the wall. With regular treatments the bruising would go down, the healers had said, maybe even in time for the ceremony at the end of the King’s funeral procession. The real injury was to her left leg. It had been broken at the knee. While the healers could brace it and apply some runes to hasten the bones’ regrowth, she would probably never walk the same again. At the very best she would have a limp for the rest of her life. At worst… if infection or necrosis set in… Ona didn’t want to think about it. Movement was her sister’s life. Dancing her one true joy. Taking that from her was unthinkable. Maybe if Alba would finally give in and fly she could keep some of that joy, but Ona knew she wouldn’t. Her sister had her reasons for not wanting to use Ona’s gift, and she had to respect her wishes, even if she could never understand them.
Anger welled up inside her at the thought of what Borden and his followers had done. How many lives had been lost or ruined because of them? And for what? Politics? Revenge? She wasn’t ignorant of the Empire’s affairs. She knew there was a certain level of dissatisfaction among some factions. There had even been moderated discussions about the dissenter's viewpoints held at the Academy, with the Professors guiding the students to consider both sides of the arguments and try and find the middle ground. She had never expected it would come to this though. It was all so senseless. What did violence like this solve?
Ona sighed and absently tried to brush a stray hair out of Alba’s face. Of course it didn’t work. Getting angry wouldn’t fix what had happened, and other, more qualified people were dealing with the situation. Alba was safe for now. She did not need constant monitoring so the healers had let her rest in her own room to save the beds in the infirmary for the more severely injured attack victims, like Vincen. Ona ducked her head into the covers and checked on Alba’s knee. A brace had been strapped around the joint, keeping it immobilized. The knee was still horribly swollen and red, but the dressing was clean and the soothing poultice looked fresh and was glowing with soft green runelight. It was either a pain-relieving rune or a healing one, Ona didn’t know her runes well enough to tell the difference. The light was glowing stronger than the last time Ona had checked, though, so the healer must have changed it while she was out. The woman was gruff and had little in the way of personality, but she knew her craft well and was working tirelessly to help as many people as she could, so Ona forgave her for being somewhat less than friendly.
She pushed her face further into Alba’s knee and examined the bones once again. The kneecap was completely shattered, as well as the smaller of the two leg bones below the kneecap. Ona never could remember their names. Was it the Tibia or Fibula? Either way, she thought it looked like some pieces were beginning to knit back together. She couldn’t be certain though. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. It had only been two days after all. Even with a healer’s runes, bones took a long time to heal, and joints took longer still. She pulled her head out of the bed and fought down the sensation of disgust she got whenever she passed through another person. She didn’t actually feel any different when passing through people or objects — she didn’t feel anything at all — but she still couldn’t stand the idea of passing through another person. It just seemed… wrong.
After a few more minutes of watching her sister sleep, she decided to go and wake Marie. Alba needed the rest and it had been far too long since she and Marie had talked.
She glared over at the bed her mother still insisted the servants made up for her, then shook her head and drifted through the walls of Alba’s chambers, trying to remember where the attendants slept. She found her parents in the next room over and she paused to watch them. Even though they had their own separate chambers, as all noble couples did, they almost always slept in the same bed. It was something Ona had only discovered about them after she became a shade and returned home. She was shocked at first, embarrassed and scandalized — especially the first time she had caught them making love — but now she realized how romantic it was. It showed how much they truly loved each other. She could never have that now – with Vincen or anyone else. She felt tears forming in her eyes and tried to fight them down. She wanted Vincen and Alba to be happy, and if there was any chance the two of them could share the love her parents had then she would do what she could to make that happen.
She brushed her hand through her mother’s hair and smiled when she shivered and rolled over, hugging her father tight. Sometimes, especially when they were asleep, the living could tell when a shade touched them, though they rarely realized what it was. Ona treasured these moments. It reminded her that she was still connected to the living world if even only by a thread. Her exasperation at her mother’s eccentric behavior melted away. She was still grieving, and she may never stop. Everyone grieved in their own way and in their own time. She floated over the bed and kissed each of her parents on the forehead and then passed through into the next room. This one was her father’s room and it was empty, with not so much as a wrinkle on the bed sheets.
The room after that turned out to be the dorm set aside for the male attendants. A few of them were Mages — such as her father’s Valet — and were beginning to stir so she hurriedly exited the room before anyone saw her. If she still had blood she would have been blushing something fierce. She made a note to avoid the room in the future.
The next room over was for the women and there she found Marie, snoring away in her bunk. Ona smiled, remembering all her sleepless nights at the academy. Marie had shared a room with her and Alba, and no matter how often they told her that she snored she vehemently denied it.
A wicked thought occurred to her and she grinned. She floated above Marie and turned so that she was parallel with the bed, her face mere inches from Marie’s. “Psst,” she hissed. “Wake up sleepyhead,” she whispered as loudly as she could. Whispering wasn’t strictly necessary since Marie was the only female mage who had come with them to the Capital. Still, some habits were hard to break, even after two years.
Marie’s eyes flickered open. She blinked a time or two then her eyes opened wide and she sat bolt upright with a squeal. She passed right through Ona as she did. Ona drifted to the side, too busy laughing to feel queasy at passing through a person.
“Ona!” Marie said, grasping at her chest as the other attendants and servants began to stir, woken by the sudden outburst. “Don’t do that! How many times have I said it?”
“I don’t know,” Ona said between fits of laughter. “But your reaction never gets old, so I ignore you anyway.”
Marie threw her covers off and slid her feet to the floor. “Shades!” she breathed. “I swear I’ll never get used to how damn quiet you are." She waved at the other women who were blinking and looking at her with obvious concern. “Sorry,” she said as she grabbed her robe and threw it over her shoulders, her face turning red. “It was just Lady Ona saying good morning.”
A few of the women gave each other looks that Ona was quickly becoming familiar with. It was the look of someone who didn’t believe shades existed. She had been warned that there would be those who didn’t think shades were real, but she had never been exposed to it until leaving the academy. Ona puffed her cheeks out and gave them a gesture that would have made her mother faint if she had seen it.
“Don’t worry about them,” Marie said quietly as she tightened the ties on her robe. “They don’t much care for me anyway.”
Ona sighed. “They still mad at you for getting to be Alba’s Lady’s Maid?”
Marie nodded and stood up. “It’s a coveted position that many maids work their whole lives to get. It’s understandable that some of them would be upset when an outsider fresh out of school comes in and takes it from under them. They can’t say anything, of course, since the King ordered it.” She glanced at one of the women who was grumbling and shooting Marie a nasty glare. “At least not too loudly." She began making her way to the privy chamber. Ona followed her in, not bothering to use the door. As soon as the door was shut Marie turned to her. “Forget about them. I want to hear about you. Where have you been? Lady Alba’s been beside herself with worry. So have I, for that matter.”
“Sorry,” said Ona. “I had to work through some stuff. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“Well, we did. You just disappeared. It couldn’t have been easy to stay hidden for this long, even for you.”
It hadn’t been, at least at first. She thought she could just stay at the farthest limits of the Bond, keeping out of as many people’s sight as she could. For the first few days that’s exactly what she had done, but as time wore on the Bond’s urging became stronger and stronger, calling her back and pulling ever harder at her. It got to the point where it dominated her every thought and she eventually had to give in and let it pull her home. She had managed to wait until night, at least, so no one had seen her. She stayed in Alba’s room for the rest of that night, recovering her senses and miserably watching as her sister tossed and turned against her nightmares. Ona knew that Alba was dreaming of the day Ona had died, and the knowledge that it was her fault her sister couldn’t get a decent night’s sleep was almost too much for her. When the sky began to turn from gray to orange and Alba finally settled down she slipped up into the attic and watched the sunrise through a window. It was much easier to hide up there. It was rarely visited, and those servants who did were never mages, so she didn't even have to hide from them. It was hard in a different way though. Childhood toys, long-forgotten knick-knacks that triggered old memories, or the sounds of day-to-day life coming from downstairs were all constant reminders that she was still at home — a home she no longer had any place in. “It wasn’t,” she said, hoping that Marie would sense that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Marie studied her face for a moment. Ona knew her features blurred in and out of focus a lot and she wondered if she was doing it now, she never could tell. Marie shook her head slightly after a few moments. “Well, you’re back, so I hope that means you got it sorted. Alba told me what she said and she feels awful, you know? She didn’t really mean it.”
Ona shrugged. “Whether she meant it or not, it's true.”
“No, it’s not,” Marie said firmly.
“Which part isn’t, then?” asked Ona. She listed the points off on her fingers, hearing Alba’s miserable voice echoing in her mind. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. The number of people I can even talk to is laughably small. Furniture is meaningless to me… the list goes on. It’s all true.”
“Yes, all that is true,” said Marie. “Except you’re forgetting the most important part.”
“Which is?”
“None of it matters.”
Ona laughed. “I think it does.”
Marie shrugged. “Sure, I mean things are different. But everything on your list was just stuff you do. It’s not the stuff that makes you, you." She pointed at Ona, her finger poking into her chest. Ona squirmed back with a little shudder. “You are still here, and we don’t want to lose you.”
Ona smiled. It was a bit of a simplistic view of things, but Marie was right in a way. “Well, I’ve already decided that you aren’t going to be rid of me so easily anyway,” she said, turning her nose up. “By the way, whose idea was it to ship us off to a whole other province? I didn’t even know about it until Aarmond mentioned it last night.”
“It was your Father’s idea,” said Marie. “He brought it up yesterday and of course Lady Alyona latched onto it right away. Your mother wasn’t sure at first, but after Alba agreed that it was for the best she gave in, though I still don’t think she likes it." Marie paused. “How is she doing this morning? I assume you’ve checked on her?”
“She’s sleeping. Her knee looks like it’s starting to heal a little, I think, but her face still looks awful.”
“Bruises always look worse before they get better, so that’s good, I suppose." Marie squirmed uncomfortably. “Alright,” she said. “Enough talk. You may not need to worry about bodily functions anymore, but I still do and I don’t need you hanging around to watch. Go on back to Alba. I’ll be along soon."
She waved Ona away and she drifted through the wall with a laugh. It was good to be back.
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Alba was stirring restlessly when Ona returned to her room. Her face was scrunched tight and she was moaning softly. Ona rushed to her side.
“It’s ok,” she said. “I’m here, and Marie's on her way.”
Alba opened her eyes. “Ona?” Her eyes focused and she smiled, though it was tight with a bit of a wince. “You came back.”
“Kinda had to. There’s easier ways of getting my attention, you know. You didn’t need to go running off to another province. What if I had missed the train?”
Alba laughed, then winced.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I ran into a wall at a hundred miles per hour.”
“You did. The healer said that if your Skill hadn’t still been protecting you, you would have been killed. What were you thinking?”
Alba got a distant look on her face. “I don’t know…. People were dying. I had to help. Then I saw that man about to kill Kelso and I couldn’t let that happen.”
Ona scoffed. “Well, you sure did a number on them. I wanted to help too, but….” She held up her hands. “Well… you know.”
Alba nodded, then grimaced and shifted her body a little, which made her wince even more. Ona instinctively reached for her, which of course didn’t help.
“Don’t move,” said Ona, pulling her useless arms back. “Marie will be here soon. She’ll help." Alba fell back into her pillow. “What happened to you anyway?” Ona asked, trying not to dwell on how helpless she was. “You never trip.”
Alba shook her head. “Someone did something to me. They made it so I couldn’t use my Skill properly. No one knows for sure who it was, but I hope we got him. Someone who can do that, running around loose and unregistered… it’s a scary thought." Alba coughed and gasped with pain. “Did you meet her yet?” she asked with her eyes scrunched tightly shut.
Ona nodded. “Aarmond and Nahuel asked me to talk to her last night. She’s… I don’t know. She’s lived a very different life than we have. It’s not going to be easy for Vincen.”
“Borden had to know who she was. Why would he keep her from us? Why did he even have her in the first place?”
Ona shook her head. She had asked herself those same questions many times. “He’s an evil man. Whatever his reason, it wasn’t a good one, that’s for sure. This has to be more than just revenge for losing Selise. Aarmond is worried that there’s more to come. So is Father.”
“Does Vincen know about her yet?”
Ona shook her head. “He still hasn’t woken up, and I don’t think he will before we go. The train’s leaving after breakfast.”
“At least that means he was unconscious for the Transfer, that’s a small mercy,” she said with a sigh. Alba said she could feel the Transfer every time she dreamed about Ona’s death. It was the worst feeling imaginable, she said – like she was stealing Ona’s life away and taking it for herself. Ona had no recollection of it at all. All she remembered was suddenly floating beside her own body and feeling very, very confused. “His life will never be the same now,” Alba said, her breathing getting heavier.
“None of ours will,” replied Ona. “You just focus on getting better. That’s your only job right now.”
Alba coughed again and Ona wished she could hand her sister a glass of water. There was a glass right there, sitting on the table beside the bed, mocking her. “Just rest,” she said instead. “Marie will be here soon. She’ll get you cleaned up and ready for breakfast. Then they can move you to the train and you can sleep some more.”
Alba grimaced and frowned. “I don’t want to be a burden to everyone.”
“You could fly yourself around if you wanted to.”
Alba huffed and shot Ona a glare. “Why do you do that? Every chance you get you bring up flying. I’m not going to do it, so just stop already.”
“But…”
“Stop! Ona,” Alba winced and sank further into her pillow, tears wetting the corners of her eyes.
Ona cursed herself. Why had she done that? She knew how Alba felt. Flying had been everything to Ona, it was still one of her true joys. She just wished Alba could see it as she did – wished she could see how beautiful the world looked from above. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know – I know. I just can’t stop myself sometimes." She smirked. “Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m still just a kid.”
“That’s not funny." Alba opened her eyes and wiped away the tears, wincing when she brushed the bruised side of her face. “I’m sorry about what I said the other day. I didn’t mean it, truly.”
“I know you didn’t. It made me think though.”
“About what?”
“That I need to stop pretending everything’s ok. Because it’s not. Not even close.”
“No, it’s not,” said Alba. “I miss you. Don’t disappear on me again. Promise? It felt like losing you all over again.”
Ona smiled and brushed Alba’s cheek, determined not to pull back when her fingers slipped through her sister’s skin. Alba breathed in sharply and shivered, bringing her hand to her cheek. “Feel that?” Ona asked. Alba nodded. “It means I’m still here, and I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”
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The funeral procession started after breakfast. Eight large and beautiful black stallions pulled the King’s casket in a black carriage through the streets of Albaron City. The Queen’s casket followed behind in another, slightly smaller though no less elaborate carriage, pulled by six black mares, and Domenic’s was behind that, pulled by six more black stallions. Prince Aarmond, Prince Andreu, Marquess Lequette, the Lord Commander of the army, and every other high-ranking official in the court walked behind them, escorted by an entire legion of soldiers. Four squadrons of Halberdiers guarded the procession, one each at the front, rear, and both sides. Nearly everyone in the city came to watch, and never had such a crowd been so silent.
Alba did not get to see any of it, however. After breakfast, she had been carried out to their carriage on a stretcher. The seats had been modified to allow her to lay flat so as not to risk damaging her knee by bending it. Marie and Lady Marta rode with her as the carriage drove them to the train where they awaited the King’s arrival. Ona followed at a distance, flying as high as she could to try and see as much of the procession as possible so she could tell Alba and Marie about it afterward.
The procession was so long that it stretched nearly half a mile, the black carriages and horses contrasting with the white uniforms of the Halberdiers. The noblemen following behind the carriages wore their usual white suits, but the red sash had been replaced with a black one. The soldiers behind them wore red. Ona thought it looked like blood pouring from an open wound, and she shuddered at the memory of the battle. The morning sun glistened against the soldiers' brass buttons and flashed off of the bayonets on their rifles. The red banner of Albaron flew everywhere, a band of black running diagonally across it from top to bottom, covering the golden phoenix in a show of mourning.
It took the rest of the morning for the procession to make its way through the city, though it was only a few miles to the train station. The caskets moved slowly, going no faster than the parade behind them could walk, and they did not walk fast. It was a slow, somber parade, one burdened by respect and sorrow. Whatever anger had driven the city to riot a few days earlier seemed to have vanished, leaving behind silence in place of angry shouting.
The King’s private train was a spectacular machine. Ona had seen it once before when she and Alba were little, but she barely remembered it. It was painted a deep and shiny black, with highly polished brass fittings and bells. Steam leaked from several vents, making it look as if it were floating in the clouds. The Albarion crest was fastened to the front of the boiler and would have given the train a sense of regal majesty but for the black band stretching across it, covering the golden phoenix. Flags bearing the Empire’s standard were fastened to each corner, also banded in black. The windows of the passenger cars were all covered with thick shutters, making it seem as if the train itself was mourning the loss of its master.
It took two hours to load the caskets and the noblemen and soldiers who were to accompany them onto the train. King Aarmond and Prince Andreu were staying behind in Albaron City, despite tradition saying they should go. Vincen had still not woken up and Aarmond had much work to do keeping the Empire from falling apart in the chaos that was sure to follow such a tragedy. Prince Andreu was needed to advise his nephew on how to run an empire and besides, he would not leave Vincen. As the next highest-ranked noble, Marquess Lequette was left in charge of the procession, which was scheduled to visit every major city in the Albarian Empire before reaching its final destination two weeks later on the southern shores of Selise.
Alba was exhausted from the busy morning and fell to sleep almost as soon as she was settled into bed. Their family’s private car had been added to the King’s train. Even with the windows shuttered there was a familiar hominess to the accommodations that made the ride far more comfortable, even for Ona, who took little comfort from her physical surroundings.
Alba believed that Ona never cared to ride with her in carriages because she was impatient and wanted to explore outside whenever they went anywhere. There was a great deal of truth to that so Ona let her continue believing it. The whole truth was, however, that she actually had a hard time staying in the carriage. Since she couldn’t touch any part of it she was forced to float along at the same speed and direction as the cart, which was constantly changing. The carriages were usually cramped and it was difficult to keep herself from drifting into the other occupants as they bounced and jostled in unpredictable directions. It was endlessly frustrating and exhausting, so she could only handle it in small intervals. Trains, at least, were far more spacious and consistent in their movements.
She spent most of her time during the following days with Alba, rarely leaving her side. Their father was kept busy with funeral business and the responsibilities of being in charge of such an undertaking. He visited with Alba each morning and tried to include Ona in the conversation whenever he thought about it, but otherwise, they did not see him much. Lady Marta, however, had taken it upon herself to constantly sit by Alba’s side, determined to make the most of her time with her daughters. Ona thought it was sweet and tried at first to communicate as much as she could with her mother, but Alba was still upset with Lady Marta and not always willing to cooperate. Marie helped at times, but she had to be careful not to overstep her bounds. Overall, the additional stress was not helping Alba heal, so Ona didn’t push and simply took comfort in having them all in the same room together without fighting.
At first, Ona attended the funeral procession each time it marched through whichever town they happened to be in that day while her mother stayed behind with Alba. Ona would follow along as far as the Bond allowed, which in many cases was the entire route. A few days into the journey they reached Marisette and Ona decided not to attend that parade. She did not want to spoil the image of her hometown with such a macabre memory. After that, she stopped watching the processions. Each march was the same as the last, and they were always depressing. She felt sorry for her father, who had to attend each one as if it was his first. Sometimes she would stay with him when he returned, looking more exhausted with each parade, and just be there while he rested. Her father’s valet would just smile and wink at her, never giving away her presence unless she wanted him to. She rarely did. It was always awkward. She found that after spending ten years apart neither of them had much to say to the other, and now with him unable to see or hear her, that gap was far, far wider. She was much more comfortable just silently being near him.
She was the only shade on the journey and had little companionship at night. Without any distractions, she found her thoughts quickly returning to the night of the attack and the horrors it brought. Chief among them was how close Alba had come to dying. A large part of her felt that Alba had been far too reckless, risking not only her own life but Ona’s continued existence as well. It wasn’t fair that not only had Ona been the first one to die, but now she had a second death to worry about as well, in the final journey. She had seen others take it during the massacre, and that brought no comfort to her. She wondered how many other shades felt the same.
She tried to push those thoughts away. It wasn’t Alba’s fault that any of this had happened. She had nothing to do with Ona’s death. It was a random accident that could have happened to anyone. It was completely meaningless… At least it had been fast and painless. There had been no warning. There was no anticipation. No suffering. One moment she was sitting in class, playing with her hair ribbon and bored out of her mind. The next moment she was looking down on her own dead body. Before she even knew it had begun, it was over. She was grateful for that at least. She tried not to dwell on the moment and had even begun giving that advice to new shades, but still, the thoughts persisted. Alba’s actions had put them both at risk. If Alba had died they both would have taken the final journey. Yet, if their places had been swapped Ona was certain she would have done the same thing. At least that would have been a death she could be proud of.
On the first night of their journey she discovered the train’s engine. Most of the time when she traveled it was on public trains, which restricted the movements of shades in the interest of protecting the passenger’s privacy. On this train there were no such restrictions and she often found herself drifting up to the engine after Alba was asleep. There were two engineers who worked in shifts so they could travel through the night without stopping. They were both mages – Mereologists who could keep the heating runes that powered the steam engine fully charged. They took a liking to Ona and allowed her to stay as long as she wanted. She discovered that the boiler was a wonderful place to both hide and distract herself. She would curl up in the large tank and watch as the runes boiled the water and the steam traveled into the many different pipes, where the pressure would move various pistons and valves, powering the complex mechanism that drove the train. She spent endless hours following the different pipes, trying to sort out each one’s purpose and how they all worked together towards a common goal. Many times she would pop out of the walls of the boiler, startling the poor engineer and pestering him with questions about something she had seen. By the end of the journey, Ona could have driven the train herself, if she had been able to work the controls.
The ceremony on the beach at the end of the two weeks was the saddest thing Ona had ever seen. She supposed her own funeral may have been even sadder — certainly it would have been if she had been there to see it — but since she had missed it she had no way of comparing the two. A large, triple-masted ship was anchored far out in the harbor, waiting to receive the King and his family to carry them back to their homeland in the southern seas. The King’s people were originally from an island called Baros. It was a small island and very few people still lived there. It was mainly a ceremonial place these days – somewhere to go for diplomatic summits or, in this case, as a final resting place for the royal family. Her father had visited it several times, but Ona’s people were from the mainland, and she had little interest in ever going there.
King Aarmond had arrived for the ceremony, though Ona doubted there would be a chance to talk to him. They were not family, after all. At least, not yet. She had hoped Vincen would come too – they received word of his waking the day after they left Albaron City – but he and his father were nowhere to be seen. She supposed it was for the best in the end. She would have had to force herself to keep her distance from him, and she did not think Rayna’s presence would be well-received given the circumstances.
Alba’s face was nearly healed by the time of the funeral. Only a faint yellowing was left where the bruising had been the worst, and Marie had been able to hide that with clever use of powders and rogue. An armchair had been rigged up with a footrest that let her leg remain straight and had handles for two strong footmen to carry it around with. They placed her outside along with the other mourners to watch as the caskets were unloaded with somber reverence. Crowds of commoners from Selise and the surrounding regions stood at the edge of the beach, separated from the proceedings by a legion of soldiers and halberdiers. Prince Domenic’s young widow, Galina, quietly wept at Aarmond’s side as the caskets were carried past and out onto the beach. Aarmond led the assembly as they followed the caskets to the shore, Galina holding his arm for support. Ona floated alongside Alba’s chair as they made their way across the sand with the rest of the procession. Gray clouds filled the sky and a stiff breeze blew in from the sea. Judging by the way the women pulled their shawls about their shoulders, Ona figured it carried a chill with it. She was glad that she didn’t have to shield her eyes against the blowing sand at least. The pallbearers brought the caskets to a stop alongside three longboats at the water’s edge. Ona’s father stepped forward and addressed King Oriol’s casket.
“Does the King wish to board the ship?” he asked in a loud voice. The only answer was the blowing wind and Galina’s quiet sobbing. Ona found herself imagining what her own funeral might have been like. Had her mother cried like that? Had she held onto her father the same way Domenic’s poor widow held Aarmond now? Vincen had been there. He would know, but that was one thing they had never talked about.
Twice more her father asked the question, and twice more silence was the only response. “Then the King is truly dead,” he called out. He stepped aside and watched as the pallbearers loaded his casket into the first boat. Queen Zhuliette and Prince Domenic were loaded into the other two. In Ona’s mind she saw the pallbearers lowering her own casket into a cold, dark hole beneath an old oak tree on a hill. The pallbearers pushed the boats into the surf and the oarsmen began rowing towards the waiting ship, the waves slapping against the sides of the boats like shovelfuls of dirt landing on a coffin lid, burying it beneath the earth. Tears blurred Ona’s vision. Alba sobbed behind her. Ona found herself at the water’s edge. When had she drifted away from Alba’s side? Alba sobbed again, but Ona was transfixed by the longboats and couldn’t look back.
When the longboats were about a hundred yards out Marquess Lequette turned and motioned for Aarmond. He gently handed Galina over to an attendant and stepped forward. Another attendant placed a pillow on the sand in front of him and Aarmond knelt on it, facing Ona’s father. The Marquess took a golden circlet from an attendant and solemnly placed it on Aarmond’s head. “As the mighty phoenix is reborn in flame and ash, so too, is the King restored from death and tragedy,” her father said, and Aarmond slowly stood while the Marquess knelt, his knees sinking into the wet sand. “Long live the King!” he called out. The gathered mourners all knelt, even Ona. Alba could not kneel, though she bowed her head.
“Long live the King!” they responded.
“May he rule with justice and wisdom, for the good of the Empire.”
“For the good of the Empire,” the crowd echoed.
After that, the gathered nobility quickly dispersed, driven back to their waiting carriages by the cold ocean breeze, though a few remained to watch the longboat's somber journey towards the waiting ship.
“Come,” said Lady Marta. “We must get Alba out of this wind or she’ll catch her death.”
“Yes, my Lady,” said Marie with a curtsey. She nodded at the footmen who lifted Alba’s chair and began walking back to the train.
“I’ll stay for a bit,” Ona said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I want to see them reach the ship." In her mind’s eye, her own grave was nearly filled with dirt. People were leaving, going back to their lives, but she had no life to get back to. She was still there and always would be, forever alone and cold beneath the oak.
“Ok,” said Alba, wiping tears from her eyes and streaking her makeup a little. Hopefully Marie would see and fix it before anyone noticed. “Don’t stay too long.”
“I won’t,” Ona said, though in truth she had to stay on that hill. The dead had no choice. They went where they were taken, and stayed where they were put. The King and his wife and son didn’t want to get on those boats, but there they were anyway. Everyone was leaving them to take that final journey alone. Ona wanted to stay with them for as long as she could. The dead should watch over their own.
She waited long enough to see the footmen loading Alba’s chair back into the train, then turned and flew out over the water as far as the Bond would let her, which was almost all the way to the ship. There, where she was certain no one could see her, she put her head in her hands and wept bitterly, giving her tears to the sea long after the ship had passed beyond the horizon.