3. Elara
Chapter 3
Mother never wanted to see me.
Which was fine, because I never wanted to see her. I was more the dirty, useless peasant to her perfect Queen than I was the daughter to my mother. I was not sure she had seen me as her daughter since the day my Catalyst died.
“I supposed we don’t have time for me to go change my dress?” I asked hopefully as I caught up to Batian’s quick steps.
“Regretting your excursion into forbidden trainings?” I didn’t miss the prod in his voice.
“No!” Well, kind of, but I was locking that bit of information away. “But you know she’s going to say something…”
Or more than a few things.
I chanced a look back, silently contemplating if I could run for it. Not going to happen. Not only did Batian have much longer legs than I, but his Catalyst gave me a look as though she was expecting it.
By the Goddess! It was as if they knew me or something. Even the Boy moved one step over, blocking the straight shot to the end of the hall that stretched forever with its tall ceilings and sconce-covered walls that were an endless length of black stone, made longer by the lack of windows that were a signature this far into the castle.
The royal chamber had once been located near the front of the Runturin, but Mother had demanded it be moved closer to the mountain the Runturin was built into after she and Father married, citing safety concerns. Now, this deep into the castle, everything was a maze of identical dark corridors and flickering purple shadows thanks to the low blue fire some fíra had set.
I’m sure some found them safer. For me, they were only a long, gloomy walk to my parents.
“I’ll be there with you.” Batian’s voice had dropped as he wrapped his hand around mine. His hand was big and covered in calluses from years of fighting, each one of them familiar. His touch was the same comforting weight it had always been for every one of these meetings.
Warmth from his palm radiated through me as we turned the corner and faced the giant metal doors that stretched from floor to ceiling and wall to wall of the oversized corridor. The deep gray stone rippled with purple shadows from the banks of low-burning fire by the floor. It gave us enough light to see and made everything feel like it was haunted by some sinister spirit.
“Just don’t make me punch you again,” I finally said, deflecting the pain gnawing at my chest. He chuckled, squeezing my hand as the chill from those giant doors hit me. I didn’t know what it was about those, but sometimes I swore they were made of ice.
Guards from the Ramal’s royal army stood straighter at our approach, whatever they had been talking about cutting off with a hiss. Black-gloved hands flew to golden swords, purple tunics and white capes fluttering at the quick movement.
“You have returned, sire,” one of them said with more flare than was necessary as he gave a quick nod to Batian and a slight glance to me.
I made sure to cough extra loud that time, which earned me a baritone growl from behind me. I coughed again.
They want a sick princess; I’ll give them a sick princess.
“And you have brought the Princess.” He didn’t sound nearly as excited to see me.
I coughed obscenely loud that time, which earned me a look that could have been humor or frustration from Batian and yet another growl from the Boy. I could have sworn, however, that Batian’s Catalyst was once again trying to swallow her laugh.
“I have. Please announce us.” The man gave him a bow, not even sparing me a nod before he disappeared into a smaller door that had been cut into the large metal ones.
“Try to control yourself, Elara,” Batian hissed as the booming voice of our announcement echoed through the door.
“I always do.”
He glanced in warning, but it wasn’t a lie. I always tried. I just wasn’t very good at succeeding.
A second later, the larger double doors began their slow, creaking advance. Batian led me through the moment they were wide enough for us to pass, the aroma of stale dust that I usually associated with the castle replaced by the crisp scent of a wind before the first snowfall of the year.
“Your Royal Majesty, Queen Dalyah, I present the Crown Prince Batian Dulane, our future Ramal, and the Princess Elara Illianna Dulane.”
The Boy and Batian’s Catalyst moved to either side of the door as we entered, staying at the back of the large open space. Not for the first time, I wished I could join them.
The throne room was massive, the soot colored stone broken up with large stained-glass panels that were illuminated from the back to give off the illusion of daylight. The flickering flame behind them, however, cast weird streaks of color over the stone floor, making the whole space look as though it was moving.
On the far end of the cavern sat two oversized thrones, one made of onyx, the other of ivory. The people in them matched their pedestals. My father, the Ramal, sat in elegant clothes of violet and gold, his dark curly hair and beard trimmed short. He sat with a sag, his eyes gazing off into nothing. He did sit a little straighter as we walked in and I gave him a little wave. He waved back, even though Batian was already giving me a warning glance.
Right. Be a princess. Control yourself.
Mother, on the other hand, sat straight and tall, her ivory throne matching the silvery white of her hair and her pale blue dress that draped far beyond where her feet were. She looked as though she was more dress than person. Or maybe it was that she was being eaten by the dress, the heavy white fur trim on the gown threatening to swallow her whole. If one didn’t get too close, you would swear she was an ice statue sitting there. Fitting, seeing as that was her power.
She could wield ice with a skill never seen before in a Requisite. She embodied the skill, right to the glare of displeasure she was currently fixing me with.
Clearly, it didn’t take her long to notice the dirt on my dress, or maybe it was that I was wearing cotton and not silk, or that my hair wasn’t coiled the way a Princess’s hair should be. I straightened my back, preparing for whatever blow she would deliver first. By the curl in her lip, I was putting my money on the dirt.
“My children!” Father beamed before Mother could find her voice over her disgust. “It has been an age.”
“Father, it has only been since breakfast,” Batian laughed, squeezing my hand again before replacing his hand on the hilt of his sword. I took the opportunity to straighten my dress more. Not that it mattered. Mother's lip was curling to the point of absurdity now.
I willed my eyes not to roll. I didn’t want to know what hell would await me on the other side of that action.
“Yes, yes, you’re right of course,” he forced a laugh, but there was something wrong there. Like he wasn’t sure.
I gave Batian a look. I hadn’t seen Father in a month. He had been sickly for the last year or so, but confusion wasn’t the weakness of the chest and soul he had been diagnosed with. Batian saw them both every day but he hadn’t said anything about Father doing worse. He pressed his lips together as he stared forward.
Okay, that wasn’t a good sign.
“Elara, my little girl. How you’ve grown. You are such a beautiful young woman now. Such a respectful princess. One everyone in the Realm should be proud of.” He tugged at his beard so the gray at the sides was more noticeable. He moved to sit up, only to collapse back down to the throne with a thud and a groan.
I jumped, looking again at Batian, who didn’t shift even though his grip on his sword pommel had tightened.
Father was… Well, he was clearly not well. What had I missed? Worse, what had Batian not told me? I glanced at Batian, but he still wasn’t looking at me.
“Enough of your games, darling,” Mother finally crooned, her voice tight and sharp like ice. “Even I can see that she could never be that. Not with her hair the way it is.”
I was wrong. She went with my hair.
“Or that dress.”
Her lip curl tightened, and I forced myself to stand tighter and keep my lips zipped.
‘Control yourself, Elara,’ I reminded myself as I curtsied, well aware the motion probably revealed the torn hem of my dress.
“I’m sorry, Mother.”
She tsk’d so loud at my response that it echoed over the hollow throne room like a slap.
“Queen Dalyah,” I quickly amended, her smile twisting into an icy slice on her face. I forced myself to look away to the shadows behind their thrones, where I could just make out the red cloaks of their Catalysts.
My father’s Catalyst, in so many ways, was as much of a broken royal as I was. He was first born, but not a Requisite. He was born a Catalyst; my father’s Catalyst. My father was second born to his father, the Ramal before him, but Ramal’s could not be a Catalyst. Catalysts could be nothing but Catalysts. So now Uncle Jahn stood in the shadows, clothed in the red of his kind.
My mother’s Catalyst stood to the side of Father’s, the poor girl wearing a hood low over her head as she always did. From what I had been told, she had been in some accident on a Qit and lost part of her skull and her tongue. I wasn’t sure how something like that could happen.
“Tell me, dear Batian,” Dalyah continued, turning toward my brother and giving him what I could have sworn was a genuine smile. “Where did you find her this time? Pig sty?”
“She was in the gardens,” Batian said without hesitation, as if his lie would somehow drown out what she said.
It didn’t. I heard her loud and clear. All that buzzing I had felt on the walkway at the training pits returned, this time as a hum that feathered over my skin as I tried to bat away my rage.
“The gardens.” She laughed at some ridiculousness I didn’t understand. “What was she doing there? Gardening?”
“Well, that is what one tends to do in a garden.” Batian fingers flexed against his sword, his jaw tightening as I forced myself to exhale and not laugh.
I failed. One tiny chuckle escaped in a sound that was somehow amplified in the massive hall.
I was pretty sure I heard her head whip in my direction.
“Something funny, Elara?” Goddess, could she say my name with any more disdain? Even Batian flinched.
I looked over to Father. He had always hated this as much as Batian did. Father didn’t lift his head, however, he only sagged against his throne. I wasn’t even sure if he heard.
“Answer.” Mother’s voice was a whip through the quiet, and I turned toward her.
“Yes, well…no. It’s just that Batian’s right. That is what you do in gardens, which was what I was doing.” Or I had in the past. Goddess, most days, that’s exactly where I was, which was probably why Batian had chosen the lie. For all I knew, it was where most of the dirt on my dress had originally come from.
“What were you gardening?” Her lip twitched at even having to say the word.
“Roses. One of the bushes caught my hem.” I pulled my skirt out to show the dropped and torn fabric as though it was proof. In reality, I had torn the hem last week when I had found a cavern attached to the outside wall near the water wheel that moved water from the Callay River into the palace.
I had hoped it would be a way to get to the city, maybe to explore for a bit.
It wasn’t.
If it wasn’t for the Boy's quick thinking, the massive mechanism might have crushed my foot. Instead, it tore my hem.
“Hmmm.” She made a noise of disgust, curling her lip at my dress.
“What news do you have, Mother?” Batian said loudly, clearly trying to stop our mother from whatever tirade she was on.
I did not miss that Batian was allowed to call her Mother whereas I was not.
“I have brought Elara to you, as requested.” Batian placed a warm hand on my back, and I made sure to curtsy in what I hoped was a submissive, apologetic way. I was good at neither, but anything that would help me get out of there faster was fair game.
“Of course. As you know, Aeinya of the House of Spryv is coming for her annual visit.”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Aeinya was one of my favorite people. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that she was the only female around my age that I had spoken more than two words to; but I didn’t care. A powerful vio, she was funny and witty and a perfect match for Batian.
The Goddess had clearly shone down on them, considering they had been betrothed before either of them knew how to use their chamber pots properly.
“For this visit, she is bringing her family and court.”
Batian straightened, this must be news to him as well. Bringing her family and court for her visit only meant one thing. It was time for their binding and wedding.
“They will be here before week’s end, and all the other houses will arrive within that frame. The festivities shall start upon their arrival,” she continued, actually sounding happy for once. “We will commence the walk to the Temple of the Sister in a fortnight, and the ceremony will be performed and consummated at the Temple under the next full moon.”
Batian grew even straighter. I, however, was trying not to jump up and down. It was finally time. Batian was almost twenty and six, and Aeinya five years his junior. Part of me had wondered if this would even happen.
“The tailor has been called; the invitations are going out.” I was going to explode out of my skin from excitement. Batian’s smile was taking over his face, now. “I have called extra security for you, Elara, to protect you while we are all away.”
All of that eager excitement slipped from me as though it had been drained from my body.
“Away?” I gasped, the word as heavy as the rock that was slamming into my chest. “What do you mean away?”
“Oh? Didn’t I make that clear? You will not be joining us.” The woman had the gall to smile even as I stood there punctured and broken.
All of that rage that was coiled through me tightened, and I stood a little taller.
“Mother!” Batian stepped forward, placing himself between me and the queen, as he had so often in my life. Any smile was gone from his voice now. “You cannot be serious. She is my sister. She is the princess. She?—”
“Is a Requisite without the power her bloodline requires. She would be nothing but a liability.” Her eyes narrowed, all of that prickling rage cementing in a whoosh of ice.
As though it had been torn apart in both pain and fury, any desire to restrain myself vanished.
“I am also your daughter,” I snapped, stepping around Batian to face her. Batian wrapped a hand around my shoulder, trying to pull me back, but I shrugged him away. “I always have been your daughter. I always will be your daughter. It is my brother’s wedding. I cannot miss it.”
“You can, and you will.” Her voice whipped through me as it echoed over stone and glass. “I will not let anything ruin this joining, and the issue regarding your attendance is not up for debate.” I wasn’t even sure she was looking at me. All I felt was that heavy weight as her words settled against my soul.
“But he’s?—”
“It’s not up for debate!” She roared and Father jerked to sit. I could have sworn something behind him cracked. I jumped as the sound echoed over the gray stone and she finally looked at me with all the repulsion I had seen her stare at the servants with. All the vile hatred she had fixated on the peasants when we had gone through the city when I was younger.
Now it was all focused on me.
“I will not accept this.”
I had been attempting to keep my voice level, but that look, that pain that sliced me open was making it impossible. No, not impossible. I just didn’t care. Screw controlling myself, screw all of it. She was going to keep taking from me until I had nothing.
“I am your daughter.” Even saying the word sliced all those open wounds deeper. “It’s time you acknowledge that. It’s time you see me! See me!”
I held my hands out to her, my palms covered with dirt and scars from years of hiding in corridors, sneaking through the castle, and hiding in trees and gardens in an attempt to just be part of life. Any life. But it didn’t matter what I did. She would always look at me the way she was now.
“Oh, I see you,” she sneered, that ice still in her voice. “I simply don’t want others to.”
“You…?” I couldn’t make any more words come. I stood there in my dirty dress, mouth hanging open as my fury pulsed and burned.
“Father!” I finally yelled, turning to him, but he only sat and sagged in his chair, his Catalyst unmoving behind him, although he had stepped closer since we had arrived. “Father! Do something! You can’t let this happen!”
“Oh, he already has. It was signed this morning.” The Queen sat there, smiling victoriously. My Father didn’t so much as flinch.
“Mother, don’t be ridiculous,” Batian interrupted before any more of her slimy insults found a way out. “She is my sister. Of course she will be at my wedding. She will be present for all of the celebrations. As the future Ramal, I will see it no other way.”
His hand wrapped around my shoulder again, snuffing out my inferno. My shoulders sagged as I faced her, each breath agony to get past the painful pressure in my chest.
“Batian, my child, as the future Ramal you may not see it yet, but you will. We simply cannot have her present for this event. We will say what we always do, that she is too sick to attend. The court will understand. They always understand. As Elara will understand. Won’t you, girl?”
Girl, not child. Not daughter. Not Princess. Not Elara.
Girl.
I lifted my head, staring into her lifeless eyes before looking back to where Batian’s Catalyst and the Boy stood, both unmoving. Both without names, just like me.
Well, like she was trying to make me.
By the Goddess, I wasn’t going to let that happen.
“No. I won’t. I’m going to the wedding.” I was firm. I was still trying to control myself like Batian had asked, although seeing as he kept trying to pull me back this perhaps wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.
Too bad. This was worth fighting for.
“He is my brother, my future king, and Aeinya will be my sister. I will not miss this wedding.” At least I wasn’t yelling, but with all the fury on her face I might as well have been.
She slowly stood, the fabric of her dress cracking as though it had been coated in a fine layer of ice.
“You wish to bring embarrassment to this house? You wish to bless your brother’s union with the curse of your misfortune? All for a wedding! You selfish girl! Do you think of nothing but yourself?”
“I—” I didn’t know how to respond to that. He was my brother. Why shouldn’t I get to attend his wedding? But, looking into the frozen blue of her eyes, I was suddenly second-guessing. Was I selfish? Would I ruin his wedding?
“He’s my brother!” It was all I could think of to say, and it came out as a shout and a sob.
“Enough!” Queen Dalyah screamed, cutting her hand through the air and sending a shower of ice spikes to the floor. “I will hear no more of this selfish insubordination. You will do as you are told, and you will respect the place in the court I have so graciously given you.”
“Mother! You can’t be serious, this is abhorrent—” Even Batian was yelling as he whipped past me.
“I will hear no more! My word is law! Boy! Take her out of here!” Dalyah screamed, that icy voice echoing over the stone and glass as more of her ice spikes pelted the floor.
“Father!” I yelled, turning toward him as the gloved hands of the Boy wrapped around my arms. “You are the Ramal! Do something!”
Even as the Boy dragged me back, I stared at Father, at those eyes that looked into me and past me at the same time. What in the world was going on?
“Father!” Still no response. He sat there as Mother grinned, the Boy dragging me away.
“Leave me!” I yelled when the Boy had taken me almost to the door, when it was clear that Father would do nothing but stare. “I can walk on my own.”
I lifted my chin defiantly. If she was going to kick me out of there, I was going to leave as obstinately as I could. I took only two steps when the worn toe of my shoes caught on my torn and dropped hem and sent me forward. I had almost hit the floor when the Boy grabbed me, his gloved hands around my waist as a sharp inhale issued from behind his mask.
I couldn’t even charge my way out of there properly.
“Oh, and Elara,” Dalyah’s voice slithered over to me as I shrugged out of the Boy’s grip. “Do try to wear something nicer when I send for you next. You look like we plucked you from one of those awful Qits.”
Disgust flowed from her as she stared me down, lip curled, eyes narrowed. I stood there, frozen, looking for any sign of care in her. There was nothing but ice. Batian’s lips were pressed together as he stared, the silent promise to fix this, to somehow change her mind, beaming through those coal colored eyes.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I ground the words out through the clench in my jaw, giving her one last curtsy before I turned toward the door, Batian already back to fighting with her. It was all noise in my ears, drowned out by the thud of the door behind me as I exited, the Boy following me on silent feet.
Forcing myself to walk slowly, I made my way down the long corridor before turning a corner and pulling into a run. My shoes padded in time with my heart as I raced back to my room, not even seeing where I was going. It didn’t matter. I knew the way. I knew every inch of this place.
It was my prison, after all, and it always would be.