2. Little Bird
2
LITTLE BIRD
L uella gritted her teeth against the pull of the hairbrush against her scalp, her eyes closing involuntarily from the rough treatment of the lady’s maid.
She would think as the Princess that she would be treated with dignity and grace, but never had she been granted such luxuries. Her parents made sure of that. She was torn down at every possible step, beaten, and broken in spirit and mind. Her room was a cold place, with not many personal effects contained within the circular perimeter of stone walls, other than a bookshelf, stuffed to the brim with some of her most treasured stories but mostly containing books of study. Her bed, pushed against the far wall, with a cozy fur blanket taken from the hide of some lower level beast, tossed haphazardly in the middle of the worn mattress, covered with a smattering of pillows—the fae loved creature comforts—and the vanity in which she was currently sitting.
A wide, arched, golden mirror displayed her frazzled state. She regarded herself with apathy. Swollen lips from the terrible habit of anxiously biting them. Reddened cheeks, flushed from the cold, with not much to help ward off the chill. A thick, silken dressing gown wrapped around her slim frame.
Her golden hair was frizzy, some of the stray strands catching the dimming light of the sun, casting a halo of warmth around her delicate features. High cheekbones, but slightly rounded with youth. Her mother told her in the many years of looming immortality that her features would only sharpen, just as her power should have—if Luella had any. A fact she was unable to ever admit aloud, the echoing chasm within her, where she should have been able to close her eyes and feel the roaring of the burning sun within her soul and call the magic to her hands, Luella felt only absence. Emptiness, blackness. Worse than feeling nothing at all, she felt worse than nothing. A screaming void stared at her in the face, pleading to be put out of its misery.
Startling golden eyes stared back at Luella as she met her own gaze.
She had often been told her eyes were far too vibrant and golden to resemble the trademark hushed yellow hues of the Solis fae. But what did she know? Solis fae were notorious for keeping to themselves, much more closed off than the other five fae kingdoms—Luna, Aer, Terra, Aqua, and Ignis.
Solis was a kingdom pushed to the furthest reaches of the fae kingdoms conglomerated on the western side of the continent, butting up against Medius on the eastern expanse, which made an ample way of trading with the humans, she had learned in through her studies.
But in true Solis fashion, any mingling with any other species, most especially humans, was highly frowned upon. Luella’s only scope of perspective of the kingdoms and geography was from the maps she was supplied, but to her limited expanse of knowledge, Solis was the smallest of the fae kingdoms; though, this was not attributed in any sort to the kingdom’s might. Of all the fae kingdoms, Solis was the most ruthless.
It had always seemed particularly odd to her that fae of the glowing, golden sun would be so cruel and dark in nature.
Luella rocked her heels against the wooden slats at the bottom of the stool, toes etching imaginary patterns into the frigid floors. She yearned for a rug or plush throw of some kind to steel herself from the air, growing thicker with a heavy weight and colder with the fast-approaching night.
It was like the very air had sentience. She could feel tendrils of wind brush against her cheeks as if in a lover’s caress. The smell of salt water drifted to her from the open windows. The sea pounded against the rocks outside, and with every roaring crash of the waves beating against the rocks, Luella imagined herself falling into the ocean’s depths. Into darkness and oblivion.
"The Queen left a dress for you. I laid it out on the bed," her lady’s maid said—a meek and usually quiet female.
Luella did not know her name. Mother and Father never allowed her to know the names of the servants, not after she found companionship and solace in some.
"Thank you," Luella said softly, forcing a smile to her bitten lips. She didn’t refer to her as Saga, as Luella knew the maid was an heirus as well.
The evidence of the maid’s youth was in her features, just as all heirus appeared, and the dim crackle of sunlight sparked on the maid’s fingertips when she thought no one was looking, weaving webs of dawn light in the rays that filtered in through the tall, thin windows above. A weaker power, as seen in the heirus. With age, power grew. But Luella did not have any, so where others would grow in power and strength, she would remain the same, unchanging forever.
In the mirror, Luella watched as the maid tended to her, lips downturned and features pinched like she was scared of making too much noise and drawing attention to herself. She knew the feeling well.
The hairbrush made a dull sound as the maid set it on top of the vanity’s surface, combing fingers through the strands of Luella’s curls. Uncapping a vial of oil and spreading it on her hands, the maid gently combed through the ends of Luella’s hair, smoothing the errant strands, which were rarely able to be successfully tamed for long, even with the best of beauty products.
The scent of the lavender and chamomile oil relaxed her, and she inhaled deeply, the scent like warm summer and soft freedom.
Her eyes fluttered shut from the motions of the maid’s hands soothing against her scalp. She felt like she could fall asleep.
It was over far too soon, the sound of the oil being recapped. A quiet snick in the room. Then, the soft brush of fingertips over the small collection of face paints and rouge that adorned the back portion of the vanity. All gifts from Luella’s mother.
"Part your lips," the maid instructed.
Luella obeyed, mouth parting, and she cracked her eyelids regarding the maid as she mixed a pot of red paint with another oil—this one thicker and glossier than the one she had applied to Luella’s hair. The maid lifted a short brush; the ends were softly bristled. It tickled the corners of Luella’s mouth as she gently brushed against the cushion of her lips.
The smell reminded her of the sugar-crusted apples she used to steal from the cook in her youth. It was pretty. A glistening red that disguised the chapped, bitten corners
The maid placed her hands on Luella’s shoulders, urging her to stand.
"All done," she said, still not looking Luella in the eyes. "Would you like me to help you dress, Princess?"
Luella shook her head. "No, thank you. I can manage on my own."
The maid nodded quickly before gathering up a few of her things, leaving the room just as quietly as she had swept inside of it.
Now alone, Luella sighed. She padded to her bed, the length of her long, silken robe brushing against the floor. The chill pebbled the pale flesh of her arms, and she wrapped them tightly around herself, staring at the silver material of the dress laid atop the furs of her bed.
Silver spun into a beautiful costume, but it would not distract from her sorrow. Her parents thought they could ply her with dresses and hair oils, but none of it did a thing to soothe the unbearable ache of loneliness and unrest inside of her.
A sigh puffed from her rouged lips as she ran a curious finger of the weave of silk. It was tailored to tightly to hug the slight curves of her frame and enhance the dip and flare of her waist and hips. The neckline stretched low. Much lower than she would have been comfortable with, but her mother never took into account her comfort, only appearances—no matter that few ever saw her outside of those inside the palace.
Just as she started to shrug off her robe, she heard a faint tapping noise from the window. Luella started, wide golden eyes looking over to the open arches of the window. The sun was slowly slipping from the horizon as it gave way to the startling brilliance of the moon. Wispy clouds dotted the approaching darkness, a few stars already twinkling, and Luella noted the faintest orange on the horizon, a soft burst mingling with the vibrant purple of twilight.
But that wasn’t what captured her attention.
No, the sight of a rather large raven perched on the windowsill caused her mouth to part in shock. She pressed a cold hand against her heart.
The bird was magnificent. Feathered wings, so black they were almost blue, and a beak that was pointed and grand. Sharply dangerous and wildly beautiful.
Deep blue eyes, like daggers piercing into her soul. The look reminded her of the one her tutor had given her earlier, but where that look had caused Luella to shrink back in fear and shame, this one made her melt and flourish all at once. Like ice set in the sun to thaw, but not gone completely, just changed into flowing water that would drift into gulleys and spill into rivers and oceans.
Transmutated, not dead.
Taking care not to spook the raven into the night from wherever it came, she tiptoed closer. Arched soles lightly dancing across the hard surface of the floor, and the hem of her robe brushed against her ankles. The deep cut of her neckline slipped off of one shoulder, and she gathered her hands close to her chest.
"Hello," she breathed.
Lifting a hand from where it had been tucked against her heart, the sleeve of her robe slipped further. She paid it no mind and reached out. Beckoning the creature forward or asking it to stay, she was unsure. "Where did you come from?"
Her playful scoff filled the quiet room, and she shook her head, like she had been expecting an answer.
The only one she received was a flutter of wings as the raven shifted, dark blue eyes never leaving hers. Not for a moment.
"Are you hungry?" Luella inquired.
She looked to her nightstand, a half-eaten apple and a thin slice of buttered bread resting on a platter one of her servants had brought earlier. She tore a small piece from the bread, crumbs falling onto the bare, stone floors. "Here."
Luella offered the crumbs, moving closer to the windowsill. The raven didn’t move. If she didn’t know any better, she would assume it had been a statue of some kind, not a living, breathing thing.
Wind gusted through the window, causing the bird’s wings to lift as if preparing to take off in flight to some unknown place. A chill overcame her, her nipples hardening against the silk of the dressing gown. She stayed, staring at the bird, awaiting its next move.
When the raven didn’t accept the meager peace offering, she laid it on the edge of the windowsill, backing up to watch, but it didn’t move, and neither did she.
They were locked in a game of wills. Who would look away first? The heirus with the magicless soul or the raven with intelligent eyes?
It looked like the raven wasn’t going anywhere, so she turned to dress.
Luella slipped the shoulders of her dressing gown off her arms. Her bare skin was made to appear pale white under the rays of moonlight as it rose higher in the sky. So pale that it could mimic the very moon itself. But in reality, her skin held a dull tan, fainter than most Solis fae. She caught a glimpse of her body in the vanity’s arched mirror. The swell of her breasts, small curve to her hips, and the naked expanse of her stomach and thighs. The little smudge of a white birthmark on her upper right thigh.
She looked over her naked shoulder to the bird still perched on the windowsill, taunting her silently with wings that could take it anywhere while she was trapped.
The raven was a startling backdrop to the imagery. The stark black of the feathers, lit by the moonlight and the endless night sky, and Luella’s untouched skin and golden hair.
She lifted the dress, cocking a hip as she contemplated how to don the material. Stepping into her silken panties, the thin, white material barely covered her hips. Her mother’s doing, no doubt. She left the brassiere on the bed. There was no need for it with this dress.
Instead, she stepped into the cool silk of the shift. It fell to her upper thighs, and two strings kept the material pulled against her chest. The swell of her breasts pushed against the pale fabric. The back was entirely open, no doubt a stylistic choice to coincide with the fashion of the gown. Lifting her leg to step into the gown, she pulled it up over her hips, where it fit snuggly.
A perfectly made suit of armor to withstand the cruelest of jabs from her parents.
She turned to the mirror in the corner of the room, twisting as she watched the way the silken fabric rippled around her waist. The back was practically non-existent, baring her pale skin.
It was far too cold for a gown like this.
She sighed again, and a soft caw made her head jerk to the raven. It eyed her curiously, and words stuck to her throat. She swallowed and turned back to her reflection, the raven barely visible in the background, where it nearly blended with the sky.
Golden hair, perfumed and tamed with lavender and chamomile oils, cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. The front of the dress was a soft scoop, revealing her elegant collarbones, free of jewelry.
Luella sighed. "Another night."
Shaking her head, she turned away from the mirror, unable to stand looking at herself any longer.
"I can do this. Just be quiet. Smile," she reminded herself.
Luella gathered the skirts of her gown in her hands and headed to the door. One hand braced against the knob.
Something inside her begged her to turn and look back at the window.
Just once , she thought.
The raven was still perched upon the stone lip of the windowsill. The singular marble pot resting alongside it held a golden yellow flower, the only stitch of color in the otherwise monochrome image of the raven standing as sentinel against the night.
Her rouged lips curled up in a half-smile. At least something cared about her enough to not leave her alone.
She would give anything for companionship—for someone to care —even if it was a raven.
Before Luella descended into the awaiting maw that stretched below the stairs into the heart of the castle, she gave a small wave, whispering, "Goodbye, little bird."
Maybe the raven would still be there when she got back.
A deep breath, holding it for a moment, counting off as the seconds passed. Luella steeled herself before she opened the double doors that led into the dining room. Just before she felt her lungs seize from lack of air and her throat tighten in desperation, she exhaled slowly.
She forced the held breath out… then inhaled once more, greedily sucking in air. The calming act quelled the consternation within the depths of her stomach.
The doors gave a loud and echoing groan as she pushed them open, a sound that bounced off the cavernous ceilings of the stone halls. Neither her mother nor her father stood as she walked inside. Her father glanced up, a quick once-over with his darkly shining eyes. It gave Luella a different kind of chill compared to the one felt from the cold.
Her mother just continued cutting into her baked loaf of bread, knife squealing against the plate with every sharp cut.
Luella gulped.
"You’re late," her mother snapped. Her eyes were downcast, but Luella knew the exact shade of amber-brown that they held, the same as her father, but his were a more pronounced gold.
Her mother’s bright gold hair was up today, a dramatic sweep off her nape held together with a litany of pins and baubles.
"I’m sorry, Mother." Luella made sure to soften her voice as she spoke, hoping to appeal to any gentleness. She wasn’t sure why they had called her to dinner, but she felt her hands shake as she pulled out a chair, sitting as gracefully as she could manage with the fear kindling inside her.
Luella tucked one ankle under the other as she sat. Her spine was as stiff as a board.
Her father laid his heavy gaze on her, and without any hesitation, he stated, "We’re sending you away."
Her heart stopped at his words.
"What?" she breathed.
He brought a bite of roasted meat to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Luella felt herself shrink under the judgment in his stare.
His golden blonde hair was pushed away from his temples, and his face was without lines of age, though he was old and powerful. A vetus, a fae over the age of five hundred. Her mother, who looked not much older than Luella—but with sharper cheekbones and wider hips—was still a dominium, the collective term for the Saga and Sage denotation.
"You’re to go to Syreni," her father continued. "The ship will be leaving tomorrow at dawn. We’ve already had a place prepared for you." His tone brooked no argument, and Luella knew better to contest his word.
But confusion quickly overtook her rightful fear. "What?" Luella breathed. "Why…"
Syreni was an island off the coast of the eastern side of the continent. Mostly the mer, sirens, and aquatic shifters resided in Syreni, but the island was also known as a place for summer-tinged debauchery. Under the hot sun and in the scorching sand, anything was game there.
The thought of going to such a place filled her with dread. She couldn’t comprehend how her strict Solis parents would willingly send her to a land known for its openness in all things salacious.
"It’s for your own good." Luella heard her mother’s soft voice interject.
The Queen had put down her fork, and her hands were folded demurely over her lap. Luella subconsciously felt herself mirroring her mother’s posture.
"But why ?" Luella couldn’t help but ask again.
"Serpentis and Nix are ramping up their attacks. We have reports Medius is increasing aid. They mean to end us," her father proclaimed. "Their troops have been rallied and are set to march on the far villages of Medius. Our scouts believe they’ve reached out to Aqua and Terra for aid. Aer and Ignis are too close to us to retaliate or offer assistance. They’re the smarter of the bunch… We need you safely away from here before we have to get involved. Your mother will be following in a few days, and I’ll be staying here to command the army if needed."
His words were like a punch to Luella’s gut, and she felt that familiar weight of anxiety simmer anew. She knew she couldn’t combat his decision, not if she valued the scant amount of freedom she was offered.
Luella inwardly scoffed at the thought. What freedom? Reading the books that she wanted or being awarded warm blankets for the winter months?
At least her father and mother have never physically hurt her. They kept their attacks geared toward the mental sort, but the King spared no expense in harming others on her behalf and forcing her to watch. She didn’t want to be held accountable for the servant currently filling their wine glasses to lose a hand in her father’s ire, so Luella held her tongue.
"You’ll leave your possessions here. Take only enough clothes to last the voyage. We’ve sent servants ahead to ready the estate." Her father pushed away from the table, apparently done with the meal and giving orders.
He turned to leave without another word, even knowing he wouldn’t see her for the foreseeable future. He trailed a finger along the back of her mother’s neck as he left. A shiver wracked her mother’s frame. In a way, Luella pitied her for being married to such a monster, but monsters tended to keep company.
Luella wasn’t sure if villains were made or born, but somewhere along the way, her mother had grown to be as monstrous as her father. She just did a better job at hiding it under the guise of opulence.
Her mother, at least, had the decency to bid Luella farewell as she stood. "I’ll see you in a few weeks." And with that, she left the room. Her golden gown flowed behind her, heels clacking against the stone floors, growing fainter and fainter with each step.
Luella sighed deeply, shoulders slumping as she rested her face in her hands. Hair tickled her arms as she leaned forward.
Her future was always decided for her. She never had a say in anything.
What she wore and what she ate, evident in the roasted chunk of meat sitting untouched on her plate, even though she hated eating meat. The glossy glaze had congealed against the golden platter, and Luella looked at it in disgust. She leaned across the table to nab her mother’s untouched wine glass.
The dark red liquid inside created a little whirlpool as she swirled the aromatic liquid around and around, deep in thought. She worried for the innocents caught in the crossfire of this war. Greedy rulers, desperate for power and land. She worried for those forced to fight in a war no one wanted, all used as pawns in some grandmaster’s game as they carelessly toyed with fate and lives.
Luella took a small sip of the wine, the liquid immediately working to soothe the tempestuous storm of feelings inside her.
The lip of the glass was stained maroon. The same shade that painted her lips and rouged her cheeks. She continued to drink, allowing the numbness to cascade over her. With the numbness came a dull sense of understanding. Her parents wanted what was best for her—or so they said. Even if it didn’t seem like it. Sending her away was an act of protection. But she wished it wasn’t so.
What would it be like to fight? To stay? To don real armor, instead of this fallacy of silk and jewels?
It was a peculiar thought, but Luella had it nonetheless:
What would it be like to fly free like that little raven that had landed on her windowsill?