Chapter 3 – Raelyn
Chapter Three
RAELYN
“You?” Chessa’s lip quivers.
I gaze around the table and take in Erika’s surprised expression while Charlie looks bored out of his mind.
The scrape of Chessa’s chair across the hardwood floor grates on my ears as she stands and throws her napkin.
“How dare you? This is supposed to be my year. I can’t believe you’re making this season about you!”
“You will leave my sight this instant before I have you removed, you spoiled, selfish brat,” Father yells, spittle flying from his mouth.
Chess screams before turning and rushing out of the dining room.
Erika clears her throat. “This is certainly surprising but happy news.” Always the diplomat. “I had no idea you were looking for a new wife.”
Father lifts his goblet of sparkling juice to his mouth, drinking deeply before responding, “Yes. It comes as a surprise to me too, but the match is most advantageous for both of us.”
“When will we meet our soon-to-be stepmother?” I ask.
His eyes dart over to mine. “She’ll be arriving before dinner, and I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”
Whether a new stepmother is good or bad news will only be seen in time. I want to hope for the best; perhaps she will soften some of Father’s hardened edges, and maybe having a maternal figure around won’t be so bad.
I struggle to recall what Father was like before Mother passed, but the memories are blurry, like looking into a fogged mirror.
One would think a nine-year-old would make more visceral memories with their own mother, but she was always distant and uninvolved.
My sisters and I were raised to be proper ladies by countless governesses.
Every once in a while, guilt eats away at me that I hardly miss her. What a terrible daughter I must be.
Just as I’m about to leave the table, Father clears his throat. “Raelyn.”
What in the realms have I done now? “Yes, Father?”
“You didn’t drink your tonic.”
I glance down at the table, and sure enough, the golden elixir remains full next to my plate.
I’ve been taking it every day for as long as I can remember.
Father once explained that after my affliction made itself known as a child, I was prescribed the daily dose of nutrients to keep me healthy and strong.
Distracted by his upcoming nuptials, I completely forgot to drink it.
“Thanks,” I reply before knocking back the sweet, citrus-flavored tonic.
His nod is dismissal enough, and I make my escape. My embroidery project is calling my name.
A tiny bit of guilt at not informing Father about the masked man pricks at my conscience, but it was clear he no longer wished to be disturbed. I can always tell him later . . .
I wander to the cozy sitting room in the center of our manor.
I like to think of it as mine, as it’s my safe haven filled with all my favorite things.
A fire is already burning in the hearth, and the soft glow of the lamps brightens the space as much as it can in a windowless room.
Bookshelves span two of the walls, and I briefly consider pulling out one of my favorite tomes until I spot my unfinished project waiting for me on the small table next to my favorite chaise.
Kicking off my slippers, I curl my feet up under me and reach for the needlepoint.
The project features a mountainous island with a bright yellow sun blazing in the corner.
I’m in the middle of adding a lion with golden eyes creeping out of the emerald jungle and have been itching to finish it.
Where the idea for my art comes from, I’m not entirely sure.
Sometimes, it feels as if my fingers have a mind of their own as I create little vignettes of places I have never seen before.
Because of my affliction, travel is quite challenging, and I find myself confined to our manor a majority of the time.
Massaging the back of my neck with one hand, I groan as I stretch my feet out in front of me. A soft knock followed by the creak of the door grabs my attention.
“Sorry to bother you, Raelyn.” Sera, my lady’s maid and my only true friend, pokes her blonde head in. “Lady Carlisle will be arriving soon.”
“Oh hells!” I jump out of my seat. “Where did all the time go?”
I didn’t even realize how late it was, and my stomach starts to growl.
Sera shrugs sheepishly. “You do get so engrossed in your projects. One might almost think you were a vampire with how you hide away in here all day.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sera.” I laugh. “Vampires aren’t real.”
She raises a delicate brow, her violet eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe not in this realm.”
Trying to ignore her implication and the nagging memory of the drop of blood I tasted the night before, I continue, “I’m almost done with this one, and I like to finish once I really get into it.”
A knowing smile on her face, she shoos me toward the back staircase. “Your soon-to-be stepmother will be here any moment. You need to get dressed!”
I can’t stop my eye roll and exaggerated sigh as I trudge toward the stairs. “What’s wrong with this dress?”
“Come now, my lady,” she drawls sarcastically. “You know better than to ask. Your father wants everything to be perfect for his new bride. We’ve been re-polishing the silver all day.”
Rolling my aching shoulders back, I march up the stairs to my rooms. I don’t always bother changing into an evening gown for dinner, and Father usually lets it go, but I have a feeling Sera is right that it wouldn’t go over well tonight.
I breeze in and make straight for the dressing room. My favorite lavender evening gown catches my eye, and I pull it off the hanger.
“Let me,” Sera demands, reaching for it.
“I am perfectly capable of getting myself dressed.”
She motions for me to turn around, and I do so begrudgingly.
“That explains the mismatched buttons I’m looking at,” Sera says smugly as she unfastens my dress.
I throw my hands up. “What do you expect when there are hundreds of those tiny things?”
She chuckles. “That’s what I’m here for. It’s a wonder your father didn’t have me dismissed for not attending to you this morning—clearly evident by your disheveled state.”
I frown. “Where were you? I was rudely awoken by Erika and Chess.”
Sera’s fingers freeze on my lower back for a moment before she continues, “I’m afraid I woke up feeling quite ill this morning. I overslept . . . I promise it won’t happen again.”
My dress falls to the ground, and I turn, taking one of Sera’s hands in mine. “Please don’t feel bad. It sounds like Father has been working you all extra hard lately. Are you sure you’re all right? I truly can manage to get myself dressed.”
She gives me a look.
“I can mostly get myself dressed.” I smile.
“Well, I’m here now.”
She helps me step into the diaphanous gown and pulls it up over my slender hips. While fitted snugly at the waist, it falls in beautiful layers to the ground. It always makes me feel like a princess when I wear it.
At my dressing table, Sera goes to work taming my dark locks into an appropriate evening style.
Using a heated wand, she curls some face-framing pieces and smudges kohl on my lids, all while regaling me with her stories about other realms. They’re my favorite—especially the ones about the fae.
When the gods walked our realm, they brought tales from other places, and those stories were passed down.
By now, I doubt the tales hold even an ounce of truth, as they’ve been retold and embellished, but Sera’s stories are always so vivid, I almost feel like I’m there. Her imagination knows no bounds.
“My work here is done,” she says, stepping back to admire the look.
“You really ought to write a book or something,” I muse. “I never tire of your stories.”
She tsks, brushing a thick strand of blonde hair behind her ear, and waves me off. “I love to read, but that doesn’t qualify me to write, now, does it?”
I shrug, then drop into a curtsy, fluttering my dark, curled lashes. “I meet your approval then?”
She opens her mouth to reply, but her eyes catch on the clock and she blurts out, “You better hurry. Time to go!”
Right as I make it to the bottom of the stairs, my father walks in from the direction of his study.
“Just in time. Barely.” He gives me a once-over and nods his approval before walking to the front door, which our butler swings wide, and Father motions for me to join him.
I follow him to the front courtyard, where my siblings are already lined up. Chessa gives me a dirty look and turns her head away while I take my place next to her.
Erika reaches behind Chess and pokes me in the side. “Cutting it close, aren’t you? I can’t fathom why Father puts up with you, honestly. Your head is always up in the clouds, doing unladylike training or buried in some new piece of needlework.”
“Your jealousy is showing, Erika,” I retort under my breath.
“As if,” she huffs.
I can’t stop the eye roll, even though she’s not looking.
My occasional evening training sessions with Father are some of the only times I spend outdoors, unless it’s extremely overcast. With colder weather approaching, those days will be even farther apart.
Perhaps I can convince Father to work with me on my sword skills later this evening.
“You’re just mad that Father lets me get away with more than you.”
“That’s just because he’s given up on you,” Erika whispers harshly. “It’s like Chessa said, you’re an old maid.”
“Low blow, sister,” I say with mock sadness, trying to ignore the bite of her words.
The clopping of horses’ hooves draws my attention to the front gate, and I look up. Father turns to face us, giving us one final appraisal.
“Do not embarrass me,” he reiterates, his gaze fixed on Chessa, and I snicker softly.
A breeze whips by, and I shiver. The evenings are getting chillier, and this gown is not meant to be worn outside without a cloak.
The sun has just set, the sky a pretty purple as the final rays of sunlight dip below the horizon of the rolling hills that surround us.
Glancing toward Father’s vineyards, I can’t help but notice they’re not as abundant as in previous years.
The vines look almost sickly, and the scent of ripening grapes is missing.
He hasn’t said anything, so perhaps I worry for nothing.
Taking a deep breath, I soak in the only amount of sunlight I can tolerate, sad that the dark is so quickly approaching.
A white-and-gold carriage comes up the long drive, and I glance over at my siblings. Even they look impressed. It pulls up in front of us, and a coachman jumps off the back to open the door.
An elegant lady descends, gripping the hand of her coachman, her blonde hair piled high on her head in the latest style.
The gravel crunches beneath her jeweled cane topped with a ruby the size of an egg, and her travel clothes are over the top with so many ruffles, she almost looks like a layered cake.
Cake. Ugh. My stomach grumbles. Missing lunch has me starving, but we won’t be eating any time soon if Father wants to give her a tour of the manor first.
“My darling Olivia,” Father says, walking over to kiss her gloved hand. “I hope your travel wasn’t too taxing.”
Our soon-to-be stepmother looks up at the manor, raising a brow. “Your home is so quaint, Cary darling. I had no idea.”
Lovely. She’s going to be that way. I bite down on my tongue to keep from saying something offensive to this snobby woman.
Father ignores her statement and turns around, sweeping an arm in our direction. “Children, let me introduce you to my soon-to-be wife, Lady Olivia Carlisle.”
Lady Carlisle’s stormy grey eyes look over us critically. I wonder what she makes of our family.
The four of us are fairly close in age. My three younger siblings all have my father’s raven-black hair and dark brown eyes, so deep, they appear almost black at times. I, on the other hand, stand out like a sore thumb with my reddish-brown hair and vivid green eyes.
Father points toward me. “This is my eldest, Raelyn, then we have the twins, Chessa and Erika, and finally, last but not least, Charlie.”
“I so look forward to making your acquaintance,” Lady Carlisle purrs demurely.
I’ll believe that when the sun shines at night.