18. Nora
18
Nora
I waited for Melody to finish her morning brew. Sleep had somehow claimed me last night, but since I’d woken, I’d felt it. The vacancy in my eyes and in my voice. My sister peered at me through her beautiful, long, dark lashes while taking another sip of unsweetened coffee.
“Are you alright, Nora?” She kept her question quiet.
My thumb stroked my fingers, playing an imaginary instrument of melancholy. I stared, but was unseeing. Listened, but was unhearing. A line formed on her forehead and concern shone in her eyes.
“Hm?”
“Are you alright? Did you have a bad shift last night?”
Memories swirled to the forefront of my mind. Caine seated at his desk with a malicious gaze. Eucinda sat stoically on my bed. The last remnant of my mother’s love in pieces in my waste bin.
“Yes, I did. Are you almost ready?”
Melody would be just as devastated if she learned the truth. With that would require the explanation as to why her mother cared so deeply that I also vie for the prince’s hand. None of that was her burden to bear, and I had already made plans. I nodded to her cup.
“Mhm.” She hastily downed the rest and set the teacup on the counter.
“Great, let’s go.” I strode for the door.
The sun struggled to break through the bleak, cloudy sky, but the fleeting warmth on my face did nothing for the frigid mass in my chest.
“Oh, that’s lovely.” Melody inhaled deeply, as if she could breathe the sunshine. If anyone could, it’d be her. What a privileged life she didn’t even know she led to be able to enjoy a thing so small.
“Come on,” my words were clipped before I trotted down the stairs and front path into the street. There was a decent amount of foot traffic today, and I resented every individual that temporarily slowed my pace.
“You’re in a hurry.” Melody’s shuffling feet struggled to keep up.
The market crowd thickened, but I didn’t bother changing course. My elbows nudged a few more ribs than normal. I weaved through the throng, essentially snarling at those who had the nerve to smile or laugh near me. Their joyous expressions may as well have been dagger blades, slicing me with every crease and dimple or melodic sound. How were they so oblivious? This world was only filled with cruelty and opponents to fight against, whether physical or internal, and the lucky ones found something to fight for .
Today, I was feeling lucky.
Reaching the middle of the market square, I spun around and gave Melody a stern command. “Wait here.”
She stopped like she’d run into a brick wall. Almost never did I use such a sharp tongue when speaking with her. A sliver of guilt wormed its way beneath my skin at seeing her big blue eyes stare back with a pinch of hurt and confusion. I didn’t let that show, however. I was sure she saw nothing but cold steel reflecting in my brown eyes. Like a predator hunting its prey, I couldn’t be deterred.
I tore off, leaving her standing in the center of the busy square. Offended reactions and curses flew my way as I barreled down anyone standing in my path.
“Alejo,” I barked.
He gave me a double-take while handing over a bundled loaf to an elderly woman. I tipped my head to the side, requesting a private conversation. He excused himself from the long line gathering at his booth. Flour covered hands dragged over his apron in an attempt to clean them.
I dipped between the stacked pallets that held his ingredients, and when I confirmed we had privacy, I stated in quiet declaration, “I’m in.”
“You’re in?” His gaze bounced between my eyes, fishing for explanation.
“I’m now officially in the running for the prince’s hand, and since they’ve given me no choice in the matter, I’m going to make them all regret it.” My hands formed fists at my sides.
Alejo studied me for a moment. A few seconds drifted past, like he wasn’t sure how to respond, until he released a slow breath. “We’re meeting tonight.”
“When and where?”
The softening dirt beneath my feet gave way to each step as I reemerged into the square. Like it somehow knew what I set out to do and bowed before me, helpless to do anything to stop me. Nothing and no one could stand in my way now.
Purpose and power hold similar intoxicating effects as the most potent liquors. It wasn’t until I realized I’d been searching the market for sunshine colored hair longer than expected before I snapped out of my daze. I scoured each nearby stall for my sister.
My feet carried me at an increased pace when yet another stall didn’t reveal her. Maybe she’d begun retreating home? But she wouldn’t leave without telling me.
I finally spotted her, and my chest flattened with instant relief. She stood among a group that had gathered, listening to a woman. As I approached, the topic of conversation reached my ears.
“We know it takes time,” she said, “but acceptance starts with acknowledgment! For too long, we’ve allowed the idea of magic wielders to be associated with darkness and evil. That will never change if we stay silent and in the shadows. Quietness breeds fear, so let us be loud! Join us tonight at The Revelry. See for yourself the true magic that comes from an open forum discussion of a people not ashamed.” The woman passed flyers to those gathered before her, including Melody.
I stopped at her side. “Thought I lost you for a minute. I’m finished, we can go.”
“What do you think of this?” she asked without taking her eyes off the paper.
The flyer mostly just repeated what the woman had been saying.
“Sounds like any other club,” I said. The OFMS had been around since I’d been a child. Admittedly, they’d grown in support throughout the years, though their numbers still didn’t amass to much. By the way Melody refused to tear her focus away, and how she looked at that paper like it held something she desperately needed, I realized I’d overlooked the importance of this.
Even just a few years ago, I would have scolded her for even considering making her magic public by aligning with a group like this one. But a shift had begun in the perception of magic wielders. Though small, not insignificant. I didn’t fear for Melody’s safety as I once would have, and I could tell by the glint in her beautiful ocean eyes that she needed this.
“I’ll go with you, if you want,” I offered. There was still no way on Myelle that I’d allow her to go unattended.
The flame dancing behind her eyes assured me of my new evening plans before she even agreed.
I’d mentally shut down for the entire duration I stood on the pedestal as Eucinda pulled and pinned the fabric of the purple chiffon gown. The sheer sleeves billowed over my arms and tapered into a wrist cuff with matching dots or buttons or whatever they were. The skirt had vertical pleats from the ribbon-cinched waist to the floor. Most of the alterations had to come from the bust area, since I didn’t have much to work with.
I ignored Eucinda’s continual commentary on the subject every time she placed a new pin. She no longer held the power to hurt me, not even cutting remarks on my appearance held weight. She’d done the absolute worst last night, and in doing so, freed me.
For now, I’d bide my time. For now, I’d play along like the obedient horse she’d worked on breaking for years. At the end of all this, I would walk away, taking any last privilege from her life that she never worked for, that she’d only received from the goodness of my father’s kind heart. And I’d do it with a smile. Envisioning her caked with mud, living on the dirty street, seemed worth dooming myself to the same fate.
“Are you almost done, Mother? When is it my turn?” Kenzie whined from the corner of the room where she slumped over the beat up arm chair.
“Yes, darling, that is about as good as we’re going to get with this one,” Eucinda said, expertly tossing out an insult about me disguised as one about the dress.
I stepped from the pedestal, working hard not to trip on the skirts that swished between my legs. Concealing a weapon strapped to my thigh would be easy, but access to it, not so much. I delighted in the idea that I could stand near the prince, a weapon dressed in lilac, and he’d have no idea.
I thought of the smile lines that curved around his mouth on that perfectly golden skin before a stray pin pricked my ribs and sobered me. Having my dagger would only bolster my ego, seeing as using it was totally out of the question. No, there are other ways to take down a prince.
Eucinda berated me not to move a single pin even a fraction of an inch while I undressed, a task proving near impossible with how tightly she’d bound it to me. Gentle hands started working the buttons along the spine, and I immediately placed who’s.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Though I didn’t see her, the heat of Melody’s beaming smile hit my neck. Walking sunshine in my gloomy life. I left the dress in their bedroom while they began fiddling with their alterations.
Making an escape, I hid away in my room and spent time stitching a shirt I hoped to salvage after Eucinda’s pathetic outburst. An accidental prick to my finger made a bead of red swell at the tip, and I cursed. Wielding two blades simultaneously was somehow easier than the tiniest little stick of metal.
My desk no longer shelved my daggers. I wouldn’t be leaving them in the open again. Instead, they would stay tucked under the false bottom of my armoire with my midnight outfit. Though a knife hadn’t been taken to it, it still hosted an array of natural frays and micro tears. Unlike Chol’s get-up, which was crafted with fine leather and flexible material.
My fingers worked a repeating stitch while my mind drowned in thoughts of my avenging twin cloaked in darkness. We hadn’t discussed when or where we’d meet again, but that was advantageous on my part. Knowing my precise location would only put me in jeopardy of an ambush. I didn’t suspect he would betray me, but then again, betrayal is known for being the great deceiver.
On the streets, under the shadows, the only thing I could count on for certain was my own abilities. My steadfast grip on the hilt of my daggers, the controlled placement of my feet. Just myself. No one else to use me or promise something they couldn’t deliver.
Relying on someone else could only set me up for failure or disappointment, like stepping into a lion’s open mouth and hoping it fought off the seduction of hunger. I’d put myself back together too many times to break again, foregoing the rocks to fortitude my heart. This time, I built those walls with steel.
Soon, I would sever the remaining ties that bound me to cruel people and watch as my self-made tidal wave of destruction wiped the slate clean. What became of me after didn’t so much matter, as long as I took back control.
Picking up my daggers no longer represented just fighting injustice. I was carving my own future. One made from my own hands, and not anyone else’s.