by H. E. Barnes
“And if she agreed to pay for the items,” the cop said looking at Eira.
“No, not enough.” The owner said.
“Very well,” the cop said stepping away to make a call on his radio. He kept an eye glued on Eira the entire time, as if she’d bolt out the door with him standing right there. But, she couldn’t lie, she was definitely considering her chances of getting away.
Yes, the cop was a big guy, but Eira figured she was faster. And if not, she could catch him by surprise and knock him off his feet.
A few seconds later, Eira heard sirens off in the distance. They were coming for her. And, this time, they were going to catch her.
Chapter 11
In the land of Season
Queen Quinn, with Brey at her side, waited for the Daughters to appear. Slowly, inch by inch, they fluttered into view. She watched as the Daughters, her four perfect strangers, opened their eyes.
They stood in a grand ballroom, in all of its golden and ruby glory, not far from a bed. The bed King Quilo had recently taken his last breath on. The bed King Quilo and Queen Quinn had called their own. The bed was shrouded with a white drape that fell from the ceiling. But there were no shadows surrounding the bed. Only the queen and her not so loyal Hand were sitting beside the made-up bed.
“We’re back,” Orla whispered. Her voice floated around the room, bouncing off the delicate gold walls.
Aviva stood, wide-eyed, staring at the scene. She looked shocked; a paleness washed over her face as if she had seen a ghost.
“In Season?” Eira asked. “Seems so,” she said matter of factly. She stepped to the side, going towards the huge window. She watched as snowflakes blew through the window and landed on the marbled floor. She reached down and grabbed the snowflake into her hand. It stayed intact, not losing one piece of its intricate design.
She crushed the snowflake and walked back to the other girls.
“No,” Orla spoke again, her voice louder. “In this room.”
“You’ve been here before?” Idalia asked, turning towards Orla with wonder.
“Yes, I believe so,” Orla said confused.
“We’ve all been here before,” Eira said with a roll of her eyes.
Queen Quinn watched her girls with a bored expression on her face. She didn’t feel like a mother, especially their mother. Each one so different from her, it almost hurt to see how they had changed from the bright, happy toddlers she’d last seen. But she cast the feeling aside, as she had done for years. They had been taken away from her, and now she had them back. Just in time for them to watch her become the true Queen of Season.
“Come,” Brey said, standing up from his seat next to Quinn. “We have much to do.” He marched out of the room, not waiting to see if the girls followed him. He felt the eyes of the queen on his back.
All four of the girls stared at one another for a moment, as if suspended in time. They looked to Queen Quinn. She waved a hand, dismissing them, and they broke apart and caught up to Brey.
They caught Brey outside of the ballroom, in the large entrance hall. A set of magnificent stairs was situated in the middle of the antechamber. The stairs spiraled up into the ceiling, further than they could see. Brey made his way to the stairs. He carefully climbed them, careful not to disturb the rug that ran along the stairs.
Soft wool laced the stairs’ railing, intertwined between each post. They climbed higher and higher, going in circles. Finally, Brey stepped off onto the landing and waited for the girls. “Your chambers are here. Typically, had you grown up here, you would be very familiar with this floor. But, as it is,” Brey said walking towards the first door.
The first door had a small blue water droplet situated in the middle of the panels. “Eira,” Brey said opening the door.
Eira stepped inside. The walls were sapphire blue with intricate lace designs throughout. White fur adorned the floor. And sapphires hung from the ceiling, sparkling in the midday light. The bed was made up of blue silk sheets and a white fur blanket. It looked inviting, cozy. Eira hated it.
Brey continued down the hallway. A small flame insignia was painted on the second door. “Idalia,” Brey said pushing open the door. He didn’t stop to let the girls admire Idalia’s room. Instead, he pushed open the two remaining doors. One with a delicate feather and the other with a harsh bolder.
“You must prepare for the Passing and Releasing Ceremony,” Brey said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “Go to your room. Your handmaidens will be there shortly to assist you.”
The girls stood in the hallway after Brey left. “Is it just me, or are we stuck in some sort of crazy dream?” Idalia spoke up, breaking the silence.
“Not just you,” Orla said looking around herself. None of the girls had ever been in a place of such magnitude before. It was something none of them could’ve even begun to imagine.
Aviva didn’t speak, but she agreed with a nod of her head.
Eira turned away from the rest of the girls, heading back down the hall. “Better listen to the little man,” she said laughing. “Who knows what crazy things he may be able to do?” Her laughter was cut short as she closed the thick wooden door behind her.
Idalia, Orla, and Aviva stared at the closed door. “She’s odd,” Orla said.
“But probably right,” Idalia mentioned. She took a step down the hallway, towards her room. Aviva shrugged and did the same. Orla turned and crossed the doorway.
The room was adorned with sparkling yellow curtains. They were pulled to the side of a massive window that overlooked the castle’s land. A big, heavy fur blanket laid on the bed, pulled back to make the golden sheets noticeable. The tall bed posters reached up to the ceiling the black metal woven intricately to create the same look as Season’s crown.
There was a box laid perfectly in the middle of the bed. Orla padded over to the bed, across the fur rug, and pulled the box to her. It was a garment box. A big bow tied nicely on top. A small envelope was tucked under the bow.
Orla, it read in impressive cursive. She opened the envelope to find more cursive lettering.
For the funeral. Be prompt.
It was signed by Brey. Orla threw the note onto the nightstand and pulled one end of the ribbon from the bow, detangling the whole thing. Slowly, she lifted the box’s top. The tissue paper wrinkled as she moved it aside to get to what was underneath.
Orla gasped. The sound hung around in her ears, reminding her she was alone in the room.
A golden dress, sewn with strands of citrine, laid before her. She carefully removed it from the box. The light coming in from the window cast a great reflection onto the citrines, making it shine even more. The dress was long, falling all the way to the floor with a soft train. The top of the dress was bare except for the few gems that made a filigree pattern over the shoulders. It was beautiful. Breathtaking.
A knock on the door woke Orla from the daze she was in. She broke the stare with the dress and walked to the door, still holding the dress in her hands.
“Yes?” she asked opening the door to see three little ladies standing outside.
The one in the front spoke in a soft voice. “Lady Orla, we’ve been instructed to help you prepare for the Passing.”
“Oh, okay.” Orla moved to the side to let them pass. All three of the ladies were shorter than her, a feat hard to accomplish with her small stature.
The last lady to pass through the door wound an arm around Orla and pulled her into the center of the room. The lady let go of her and went to the closest Orla had yet to notice. She pulled out a stepping stool and brought it to Orla’s feet.
“Undress,” she huffed. Her voice was the complete opposite of the first lady’s. It was rough and fast.
Orla did as told and began to undress. Orla looked wildly around the room as the other two ladies set up in the bathroom. Cold hands turned Orla’s face away.
“Pay attention,” the lady said, her harsh breath smothering Orla.
Orla nodded and complete
ly undressed in front of her. A lady she didn’t know. “Do you have a name?” Orla asked, wanting to familiarize herself with these ladies if they were going to see her naked.
“Of course I have a name.” She said throwing her head back in laughter. “You can call me Pete,” Her name,” Pete said, pointing to the first lady who had entered the room, “is Clary. And she is Robin,” Pete pointed to the last one.
Orla nodded. “I’m Orla, but I guess you already know that.” Orla laughed nervously, the sound dying away as Clary and Robin ran the water in the bathroom sink.
Pete roughly shook her head. She grabbed the dress and stepped on the stool. “Bend,” she said. Orla bent at the waist so Pete could fit the dress over her head. She pulled the dress down harshly. Orla stayed silent, but she was glad the ladies were with her. It would have taken her ages to put the dress on. Apparently, the dress didn’t need the careful attention Orla had previously thought.
“Stand,” Pete ordered. Orla stood up tall. Even with Pete standing on the stool, she managed to be shorter than Orla.
Pete got off the stool and walked around Orla, tugging the dress down at random times. “Perfect,” she whispered. “To the bathroom,” she said pushing Orla to the other ladies.
Orla almost tumbled to the ground. The dress was tight throughout the body, only letting up at the very bottom. It took a few steps to get accustomed to walking with her feet so close together.
Pete guided Orla to the bathroom and instructed her to sit in the chair Clary and Robin had set up. She did, grateful to be sitting. Clary pulled the stool from the room into the bathroom and climbed onto it. Orla could see her in the mirror. Clary smiled but didn’t speak.
Clary bundled Orla’s hair up on top of her head and looked in the mirror. She nodded and let her hair fall. She went to the sink where they had laid out a ton of bottles. She grabbed a few, stuck them into the big pockets of her apron, and made her way back to the stool. She began working on Orla’s hair.
Robin stared at Orla and she awkwardly stared back. She took a few things out of a makeup bag and placed them on the counter. After wrapping a towel around Orla’s shoulder and holding up a few shades near her face, Robin set to work on putting makeup on. Orla had never in her life been pulled and prodded so much as she was by Robin and Clary.
“Done,” all three of the ladies said at the same time. Orla stood from the chair when instructed; her legs sore from sitting still for so long.
Pete ran back into the room and grabbed golden slippers. Luckily, they didn’t have heels. She dipped down to the floor, moving Orla’s dress, and slipped them on Orla’s feet. They carefully walked back into the room to look in the floor length mirror.
Orla didn’t recognize the reflection.
The dress hugged her body in all the right places. It was as if Brey, or whoever ordered it, knew her exact measurements. Her hair was piled high on top in an intricate bun laced with braids. Golden dust was sprinkled randomly throughout her hair, matching the shine of the dress. Her face was far from how she usually wore it. It looked natural to an extent but with exaggerated eyes. A shiny golden eyeshadow made her brown eyes pop even more. It was truly amazing, the work her ladies did.
A knock on the door tore her attention away from the mirror. Pete padded over to answer it.
“Come, come,” she said. Brey stood outside. Aviva stood behind him in an identical, but emerald, dress.
Orla moved her feet slowly so she wouldn’t stumble and followed Brey and Aviva to the other girls’ rooms. Brey was quiet the entire time.
He led the girls to the stairway, walking down the stairs gracefully. The girls paused at the top. It was hard enough walking on flat ground with the dresses they wore.
Aviva grabbed the rail first and began slowly descending the stairs. She looked back at the others as if to say it was safe. Orla followed her, being careful not to spread her legs too far in case the dress ripped in half. Idalia and Eira descended after her.
Brey waited at the bottom of the stairs watching as the future Queen of Season held tightly to the banister to keep from plummeting down the stairs. Idalia was the most elegant, as if she had grown up walking in difficult ensembles while Eira looked as though she wanted to rip the dress off and be done with it. Eira’s short blonde hair seemed out of place next to the flowing red of Idalia’s.
“I know there is much still to be said,” Brey began when the last foot fell on the marbled floor of the entrance hall. “And when time permits, I will say it. As for now, know it will be crowded. The people who stand behind you support you as the next Queen of Season. They do not care for your sisters.”
Brey took off outside to the courtyard. As each of the girls passed under the archway at the entrance of Conformity Castle, their ladies slipped on big white coats.
The frigid wind slapped the girls in the face, but the coat kept them warm. As did the fire burning in the middle of a huge circle of people. They parted as Brey walked up.
Hundreds of eyes turned towards the girls as they trod through the snow.
There were four distinct sections within the circle of people. Each identified by the colors the people wore. Brey stopped Aviva in front of the first section. The people owre different shades of green to match the emerald dress she wore.
Orla stood in front of people wearing yellow. Idalia was in front of the people in red. And Eira took her place at the last section, closing the circle, in front of shades of blue.
“Here, before us,” Brey spoke, his voice easily projecting around the circle, “stands the next generation of Season. The next queen. Aviva, Princess of Earth. Orla, Princess of Air. Idalia, Princess of Fire. Eira, Princess of Water.”
Clapping and shouting erupted as he called out each of their names. The noise was deafening. Then, the sound of trumpets started playing. A slow melody filtered in around them as the girls watched Brey pace back and forth. “Each of you have a responsibility to your people,” Brey said taking turns looking at each of the girls. “Just as your father had a responsibility to his, and then to everyone of Season when he became king.”
He paused, taking a breath. “King Quilo’s reign has ended.” The music picked up, a thudding sound emerging from the depths. “But his sacrifice makes way for new life and new ways. Let us honor our fallen king and prepare to welcome our new queen.”
The thudding sound rose louder and louder. The circle parted and men in fur bounced into the ring. They carried a long piece of carved wood on their shoulders. On top of the board laid the king. He was covered in white linen. The men in fur brought him to the edge of the fire and placed him on the snow.
Queen Quinn stepped out from within the mass of men in fur. Her sparkling black dress and black fur coat matched her daughters. Shadows were thrown across her face from the flickering fire. She looked regal. And deadly.
She moved across the snow in a smooth sweep. She stopped only when she reached a lone throne at the edge of the circle. She took a seat and barely glanced at her daughters or her dead husband.
Brey opened his mouth once more, “Farewell to King Quilo.”
“Farewell to King Quilo,” everyone echoed.
One of the men in fur took a torch and lit it with the fire. After a moment of silence, he laid the torch on top of the king’s body. He burst into flames. The crackling of burning flesh overtook the trumpet sound. It was all that was heard as the Daughters watched their father burn.
The fire burned bigger and brighter as the girls stared into it. They couldn’t tear their eyes away. Their minds were filled with unanswered questions. They couldn’t make sense of their new world, the one they had been thrown into. The one they had claim on. What was real? They couldn’t even answer that anymore.
“Welcome,” Queen Quinn said amidst the silence, “to the Releasing Ceremony.”
A great white light shot up into the sky from the middle of the king’s body. Once it reached its peak, far above the crowd where the people could barely glimpse it
, the light shot out in four directions, dividing the night sky into sections. Each section took on a different hue. The four colorful streams of light fell back to the earth where the Daughters awaited it.
The girls couldn’t move. They were frozen in place as the streams of light headed straight for them. They could only watch as the light exploded into their skin. Their bodies burned as the light overtook their senses. They couldn’t see or feel anything except for it. They had become the light. There was no distinction between the two.
It stopped.
The girls blinked hard. Their vision slowly coming back. The fire had died down, just the ashy remains of their father scattered against the snow lingered.
Chapter 12
In the land of Texas
Alarms sounded around Eira as she faded back into the holding cell. Cops were running around the station in an uproar, yelling at each other. Eira sank back against the wall, watching the chaos with a small smile on her face.
“Captain,” a cop called from the front desk of the station. “There’s no way she could’ve escaped.”
“Then, where is she?” a stern voice asked.
Footsteps bounced around the station, echoing off the walls. Someone was coming to Eira’s cell. She sat on the metal bench, her knees and arms crossed. A smug smile spread across her lips.
A man in a police uniform stormed up to the cell. He peered through the bars. “You,” he said pointing to Eira.
Eira pointed to herself, “Me?”
“Yes, you. Come here.”
Eira stood and sauntered over to the bars. Eira’s face was cascaded with light.
“Is this not the runaway?” the man asked the group of cops standing down the hallway. One of the cops peered down at a picture in his hands. He shook his head, but no one wanted to admit they had been searching for hours for her.
“Yes, Captain,” one of the women said.
