Chapter Three Wren
Chapter Three
Wren
Dawn, Day, and Dusk; these are the Fates. Most, though, pray to the Fate of Day, as she symbolizes our present, and represents the hope of each new day.
—Origin of the Fates, Chapter One
One Week Later
I’d been forced to attend the opening party of the new season.
“If you hide away, they’ll talk, and our family doesn’t need any more of that,” Mother had chastised from the threshold of my room days before.
She’d hung a gown on my mirror and departed without a word, leaving only a slight chill in the air.
I swore that woman was made of ice; she thrived in the winter months.
I shuddered thinking of all the animals butchered to create those fine furs she wore.
Callie, on the other hand, knew me better.
Every morning, sweets greeted me on my nightstand.
Decadent milk chocolates and sugary pastries that I inhaled beneath the covers.
My sister understood not to pester me, especially now, but she showed her love and concern in other ways.
I considered myself blessed in that respect; to have a sibling who actually cared.
These last few days, I’d had the urge to ask her to use her gift on me—to make me feel calm, indifferent, carefree…
yet I wouldn’t. It felt wrong not to endure the truth of myself.
That I wasn’t who I believed. Maybe it was penance for my thoughts, for while I went to the temples of the Fates, my mind often drifted elsewhere.
As people prayed before the statues, I’d think of the lands I hadn’t ventured to—the west and its jagged mountains, and the far north with snow so persistent, it remained all year. And that was just our continent.
I desired to see it all.
Which was why I believed I was being punished.
My gloomy routine stretched on for days—me holed up beneath my blankets as I mourned the loss of something I never had but always craved.
Since I could remember, I’d studiously watched Father with his pen, writing to representatives and lords and ladies.
He told me he would change the world for the better, and I yearned for such an ability.
To be viewed as more than some silly girl whose only ambition was to entice a partner into marriage.
Our society wasn’t kind to women. Anne Langston held a representative seat, but it was due to her obscene riches.
In most cases, if we were given a magical object greater than a man’s, we were sold off to the highest bidder as a wife.
I never wanted that. My plan, however na?ve, was to remain unattached, using my new magic for myself and myself alone.
Love wasn’t something I coveted, and my parents were hardly examples of an ideal marriage.
Often, I wondered if they’d ever loved each other to start with.
Marriage simply wasn’t for me. I refused.
Yet if I was to be magicless and live beneath my father’s roof, I’d have to attend the tedious ball and stand alongside my family with a feigned smile. Until I discovered how to change my destiny, that was. And all of those minutes spent hiding from the world provided me with an idea—
I would seek out the Fates themselves and ask if there’d been some error. I’d get on my knees and beg if I had to. If I hadn’t been so desperate, I would’ve laughed at the very notion of knocking at their palace walls. You didn’t request to see the Fates. They summoned you, if you were lucky.
What is there to lose? Making a fool of myself hardly seemed important, especially since I had no plans to marry, and the worst that would happen would be a few days of petty gossip.
Besides, I was a Hayes. A devout one; for the most part. There was a high chance that something treacherous had occurred. Perhaps a lost hound. A thief. An incorrectly recorded birthday.
Something.
These thoughts were all that kept me going. Kept me hoping.
It was the evening of the ball and I stood in nothing but my undergarments. With a sigh, I snagged the dress Mother selected from the hanger and eyed the many buttons curving along the back. I cringed.
“Callie?” I called. Her room was next to mine, and the walls were vexingly thin.
Footsteps pattered before my door creaked open, revealing an already dressed Callie. She wore a gown the color of red wine, the deep shade enhancing her stunning black hair, which she’d left down, the ends reaching the small of her back.
Her green eyes flashed. “You’re up.” She shuffled closer, a hesitant smile creasing the corners of her mouth.
“I’m not some injured predator,” I insisted, waving my hand. “You don’t need to approach me like I’m going to bite.”
At my teasing, her face smoothed, and she closed the gap between us.
“Need help?” I nodded, and she grabbed the dress from my outstretched hands.
“You know, I actually selected this gown for you,” she said proudly, a small smile tilting her lips.
She motioned for me to turn around. “I saw it at the modiste and it reminded me of the night sky. Of the stars you love so much.”
A bit of warmth blazed in my chest, melting some of the ice.
Maybe her magic had inadvertently seeped into me, not that it felt terrible, and she was wearing her earrings tonight.
“It’s stunning,” I admitted, raising my hands for her to slide it over my head.
She danced me around like I’d become a living doll, brushing the full skirt down and fixing the off-the-shoulder tulle straps into place.
“Of course it is. I picked it out.” She beamed when she spun me around, both her hands on my arms. “We all know I have impeccable taste. You’re lucky to have me for a sister. Fates know what you’d end up wearing if left on your own.” She gave a mock shudder.
I rolled my eyes. “So full of yourself, Callie.” I tapped her nose and she wrinkled it in affront. “That’s why Father has plans for you.”
I wasn’t daft. I’d noticed how they both stole away to his study, and once, I dared to eavesdrop on a conversation when the door had been left ajar.
He was teaching her about the ward. About the budget and tedious rules, and which influential members of society could be manipulated. Callie was his protégée.
Her face sobered. “We both know being a woman and a representative is nearly impossible. I hear what they say about me. That they think Father is wasting his time.” Her eyes narrowed as if she could hear the petty gossipers now.
“I just want what Father has, Wren. A chance to help the ward. To be…respected.”
Respected as a ward representative. As a powerful woman in command.
It shouldn’t be an impossible feat, and yet it was, in our world.
Now I felt like an ass for bringing it up. Callie was ambitious. Like me, she desired to be more, and I couldn’t fault her for striving for her goal. Especially since her cunning mind deserved a spot on the council.
“I didn’t mean to sound cruel,” I said with a sigh. I had a tendency to speak without thought, and I was particularly irritated this evening. “If anyone can overcome those obstacles, Callie, it’s you. I’m just cross about tonight. Mother and her threats are the only reasons I’m even going.”
I watched her throat bob with emotion. “Thank you, baby sister,” she replied with a smirk.
She knew I despised it when she called me that.
“I’ll try to make you proud one day. And who the hell knows?
Maybe I’ll surprise everyone.” Callie tilted her chin toward the vanity, her features hardening as if she were about to command an army.
“Now, we must do something about that rats’ nest of hair. ”
I expected pain would ensue.
It took ages, but eventually, Callie swept my long hair into an effortless updo, some strands meticulously left down to frame my face. After applying some rouge, lipstick, and kohl eyeliner, she deemed me appropriate.
“Callie! Wren!” Father called from downstairs, urging us to hurry.
My sister scoffed at Father’s brusque tone.
“Time to face the music.” She made for the door, leaving me just enough time to grab my letter opener and slip it deep into the neckline of my gown.
High society might dress in fine clothes and possess titles, but they often believed their names allowed them to touch what they shouldn’t, and I’d grown sick of their hubris.
I’d be prepared this time if one of them decided their hand belonged on my backside. Again. One could never be too careful.
With one final glance at my reflection, I left my room and padded down the stairs. My parents and sister had already headed for the open door and the waiting carriage, and I hurried to keep pace.
Outside, my dress shone in an entirely new light. Shimmering beneath the nearly full moon, the off-the-shoulder cobalt number dripped with sparkling crystals resembling falling stars.
“Wren, the ball will be over by the time you make it to the carriage!” Mother barked, and I ceased admiring the dress to join them inside. Callie did have excellent taste.
The ride was bumpy and painfully stifled, although Mother continuously fixed the strands of my updo whenever they fell out of place.
“Can’t have a daughter of mine looking like she ran through a rosebush,” she scolded, her eyes sharply focused as she fixed me up.
I sat through her prodding, accustomed to it after so many years.
Of course, Lenore Hayes dazzled to perfection in a green dress, gorgeous and heavenly as always.
She would die before her lipstick smudged.