One Night At The Ball
A Sisters Of The Curse Novella
By
Lisa Manifold
One Night At The Ball by Lisa Manifold
Ebook Edition
Copyright © 2015 by Lisa Manifold
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
OTI Press LLC
2369 S Trenton Way
Suite I
Denver, CO 80213
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Sisters Of The Curse Series Copyright © 2015 by Lisa Manifold
Book One: Thea’s Tale May 2015
Book Two: Casimir’s Journey August 2015
Book Three: Catrin’s Grimoire November 2015
Dedication
To my Darling Boys. You make my life all it can be.
Table Of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Thank You For Reading
About the Author
Chapter One
Catrin could hear her lady’s maid calling for her to return as she ran from the castle. She was supposed to be in her mother’s chambers for yet another lengthy fitting session; she’d already been poked, pinned, prodded and bejeweled enough, thank you very much. The memory of the most recent meeting with the seamstress was shameful to contemplate.
“Ma’am, we will need to take it in a bit more.” Nettie, the head dressmaker, spoke respectfully, yet firmly. She held fabric in one hand, bunching it behind Catrin’s back. Catrin could feel several pins scratching against her, but she kept quiet.
Roslyn peered into the general area of her bosom, and Catrin felt her face flame hot. Her mother found her lacking, apparently. She dropped her gaze, not wanting to meet the gaze of anyone in the room.
Catrin had begun to view herself critically with all the scrutiny. She had dark hair rather than the light, golden blond so favored by the storytellers and bards, but her skin was golden and clear. Her eyes were sometimes blue, sometimes gray according to those who saw her. She saw them as a flat gray, but they were quite pretty when they sparkled in amusement or even anger.
Her figure was a little thin compared to some of the ladies of the court. She wished for a more curved look, which is what brought her to where she was now—looking at her feet as everyone else studied her chest.
Just when she thought she could bear the uncomfortable silence no longer, her mother spoke. “We need to ensure that her bodice shows her to the best advantage,” Roslyn said. “We’ll use padding.”
Just the thought made Catrin cringe. She felt like a prized cow being hawked in the market on fair day. Everything she’d been told to be proud of all her life—her intelligence, her leadership skills, her magical ability—apparently meant nothing if her bodice didn’t announce her correctly. Furthermore, she’d never noticed before that she was lacking in any way. If she had been, the multitude of mirrors throughout the castle would have shown her faults long before now. She glanced back. The light stone of the castle almost gleamed at her. Instead of filling her with pride and happiness as it often did, she felt the hot flush of shame race over her.
It wouldn’t matter what she wore if she couldn’t bring her magic under some sort of control. Her inability to do so was becoming noticeable and embarrassing.
Her family, in spite of being royal, had lived quietly for as long as she could remember. They didn’t travel every summer, as did many of the royal families of the neighboring kingdoms. Her parents said they had when she was young, but after her mother had been ill, all travel had stopped. She couldn’t remember.
As had all travelers. Catrin guessed that if one didn’t head out to meet others, after a time, guests would no longer come to visit. Or so it had been with her family.
Until now. Now she was seventeen, the sole heir to the throne of Nandrenay, and apparently ready to be paraded about in search of a husband, regardless of her thoughts on the matter.
Which brought her to the main problem she faced, other than her mother grimacing at her décolletage in the mirror. Her magic was no longer in her control. No one who knew anything—her mother, father, or Aunt Grizelle—had proposed any sort of solution, so here she was, sneaking away.
She turned off the main path onto a small, less-used trail that led to an open space surrounded by trees and tall grasses, ideal for privacy. It was perfect for what she had in mind.
She flopped to the ground and reached into her dress pocket. Three glass spheres clanked as she set them down in the grass. She breathed deeply several times, trying to clear her mind and focus.
She took the spheres in her hand, stretching her fingers open to hold all three. The birds and the chatter of the field around her faded as she focused only the spheres.
“Rise,” she whispered. “Rise.” She stared so hard that she could feel a pain behind her eyes. She had not attempted such effort before.
First one, then another, and the third, lifted from her hand. Keep going, she thought, stifling her glee. The three orbs hovered about six inches from her hand. Hesitantly, Catrin waved her fingers. She held her breath, slightly fearful.
The glass reflected the light, dancing along with the movements of her fingers. She continued to gently wave her fingers, watching in delight as the spheres mimicked them in dance. Allowing herself to breathe, she leaned back, sending them higher with her thoughts. As the spheres moved on her command, the pain behind her eyes receded.
“Stop,” she said softly, and they ceased their playful dance. Not taking her eyes from the spheres, she stared hard at the sight in front of her—the glass balls twinkling in the sun, motionless, waiting for her. Catrin wanted to make sure she could see the image in her head.
Holding her breath again, she closed her eyes. She kept the vision of the three orbs suspended in air in her thoughts, and opened her eyes to look down at her arm. It wasn’t just the sun. She was glowing.
“Not the way to catch yourself a husband,” said a voice dryly behind her.
The glass spheres fell as Catrin jumped. She whirled around. “Of course it’s you,” she said grumpily. “How did you find me?”
“Good thing it is me,” Grizelle glared at her. “Anyone else and we’d be trying to talk our way out of this. I know that you’re doing magic, but exactly what is it you are doing?” She ignored Catrin’s question.
“I’m trying to learn!” Catrin reached for the spheres, intending to put them back into her pocket. “How did you know I was doing anything, much less magic? I made sure I was hidden from the main path.”
“When you practice your art, those nearby who practice also are aware. It’s something to always be mindful of. What are you trying to teach yourself, you foolish girl? I told you we’d begin lessons this summe
r,” Grizelle sounded grumpy herself. She must be tired, Catrin noted, as her aunt was using her walking stick.
“Fat lot of good that will do if I lose control once our guests arrive!” Catrin stood and glared at her. “All I have to do lately is think about something, and it happens! If I think, ‘That footman looks as though he might trip’ he will. If I think, ‘The serving girl might drop the tray’ she will. How will we explain that? That we are unfortunate in our staff? That doesn’t even take into account the glow when I actually focus!” She put her hands on her hips, angry at being held back again even as she wanted some sort of reassurance.
“Catrin, the study of your art—your gift—is more than the mere playing with baubles,” Grizelle began, gesturing at the glass spheres.
Catrin cut her off. “I’m no longer a child, as all of you keep reminding me! I’m nearly grown and, as you mention, in the market for a husband! Don’t you think it’s time we talked about how I can think things into being? I am unsure how I’ll achieve a state of matrimony if we do not!” She stuffed the spheres in her pocket.
Grizelle sighed. “The rise in your ability is most unfortunate in its timing.” She ignored Catrin’s snort. “However, I can show you how to close your mind so that everything you think doesn’t fall out of your head like water through a sieve.”
“That would be nice. A great boon to those around me, too. Particularly the princes Mother is so worried about.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be pert. And don’t let me see you playing at this again! Your gift is not a game! There is a cost for all that we can do.” Grizelle shot back.
The thought diverted Catrin from her indignation. “What do you mean, a cost? I’ve only heard of you refer to it as a gift.”
Grizelle glared. “There is a great deal you do not know. Think on this—is there anything, ever, that is given without a cost?”
Catrin shrugged. This didn’t seem all that profound. “No. Everything has a cost. Your time, your gold, your efforts. Whatever it may be.”
Grizelle nodded. “Exactly. When you practice your gift, you must be aware of the cost. If you use your gift to enhance yourself and others must pay a price, you will suffer.”
“How?” Catrin was worried. She hadn’t meant to cause harm to the staff. It just happened. She’d gained nothing from it.
“You subtract from your own life. Every act of personal gain at the expense of others will shorten your days. It’s different for everyone, but we all must pay a price.”
“Then I don’t want to learn anything further!” The thought of shortening her life or any other negative consequence horrified her.
“You’re not planning to hurt others for your own gain, are you?” Grizelle asked. Catrin shook her head. “Then you’ll be fine. As well, if you use your gifts to help others, you can enhance your life. Nothing is free, child. Will you give me your word that you will stop this? We don’t need to advertise your level of skill to the countryside.”
“Why not? Is it not part of the wonder of the Princess of Nandrenay?” She couldn’t control the scorn in her voice.
Grizelle sighed once more. “I know this is difficult. You have not been brought up merely to be pretty and decorative, however there is no denying that many consider it an important attribute for a young woman. I find it stupid and demeaning, but railing against society will not help you.”
“Can’t I be competent as well as decorative? What is the use of a gift if you don’t actually use it?”
It surprised Catrin to see Grizelle grimace slightly at her words. What was that about? All her life, she’d been taught to be competent. She couldn’t understand why things were so different now.
“You can indeed,” said Grizelle. “But I won’t lie to you. You must first impress with what people see on the outside.”
Catrin snorted again. “I don’t want someone who is swayed merely by my exterior.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Grizelle said, laughing. “You and I do not run the world, though. To that end, will you please accompany me back? Your mother is near to fits. Have mercy on her.”
Catrin kicked at the ground. “I’m tired of fittings that do nothing but highlight flaws never before remarked upon.”
“I understand. It must be done, Catrin. We’re expecting hundreds of guests.” Grizelle’s voice was gentle. “I’ll make you a bargain. Tolerate this, stop running off, and I’ll work with you before everyone arrives to learn some control.”
Catrin looked up at her. Grizelle seemed sincere. “All right. But you must give me your word that you will not renege on your promise.”
“I give you my word. We’ll start tonight after the evening meal. I’ll do even better than that, though.” She smiled.
“How so?”
“I’ll tell your mother.” Grizelle winked.
Catrin looked at her, and then they burst out laughing. “Thank you. That, more than anything, tells me of your sincerity.”
“See that you continue to show the proper gratitude. Not even your father will cross her at this point.”
Catrin laughed again. “Please be sure to let her know after I’ve left.”
“Oh, no, Missy. You want lessons, here is your first one: Don’t be a coward.” She took Catrin’s arm in her own.
“Thank you, Aunt.”
“You’re welcome, girl. You’d better remember this the next time you wish to shout at me.”
For the first time since the planning for the week-long celebration had begun, Catrin felt better.
“This will be fun, Catrin. You’ve not been enough among those of your own age. There’s nothing like having friends to laugh with and talk to.” Grizelle gave her arm a pat. “And who knows? With all the princes your mother has invited, there very well may be a husband for you among them.”
Catrin laughed. “You might be overly optimistic, Auntie. You’re right, though. This might be enjoyable. Particularly if you help me with Mother.”
“I’ll try, my dear, but I make no promises. You must go along with her. She only wants the best for you.”
“As long as it’s in a presentable bodice.” At her words, Grizelle laughed with her.
It was only a week. Grizelle was right. It would be fun.
***
The corridor above the entrance hall was quiet as Catrin hurried towards her rooms. She’d been working with Grizelle for the past week on ways to keep her thoughts from becoming happenings, and as her control grew, the glow which surrounded her while doing magic became less intense. While she was glad not to be so noticeable, Catrin found she was sad to see her glow fade. It felt almost as though she’d lost a friend.
The feeling of loss was tempered by the best part of the lessons: She discovered that she had a relationship with her magic. Now it felt like hers, as though it was part of her like her hair or her hands, and though it had to be kept secret, it felt good. Grizelle had been right to insist she be taught. She hugged herself. With Grizelle’s teaching, she felt whole in a way she’d never felt before.
A sound stopped her. She looked around for the source. There were alcoves lined with benches along the corridor, some curtained off. When her parents and ancestors had entertained more, the alcoves were used by guests to take a break from activities in the castle without repairing to their rooms.
She stood still, waiting to see if the noise would repeat. A few guests had begun to arrive, so it could very well be someone who was lost. Catrin wasn’t sure how one would manage that in a corridor that overlooked the entrance hall, but her mother had told her to be aware that guests were in the castle. Generally, this corridor would be deserted at this time of the night. She walked to the railing, looking out and over the entrance.
No one was about, and the entrance appeared deserted. Catrin knew there were at least two guards at the door on the outside, as it was the main entry into the castle. Her aunt had told her that this area used to be a gallery from which one could watch
the comings and goings of the castle.
There. There it was again. Her heart beat rapidly. She shouldn’t be nervous in her own home, but she was. She gathered her resolve and called out, “Hello? May I be of assistance?” Thankfully, her voice didn’t quaver.
There was another sound, a definite sniff this time, and one of the alcove curtains nearest her pulled back. Inside the alcove sat a girl. She looked to be the same age as Catrin, but where Catrin was dark, this girl was light. Her skin was pale and creamy, save the tear tracks that marred her cheeks. She had sunny blond hair and light eyes.
“I am so sorry, my lady. I was…” her voice trailed away. “I’ll not disturb you further.” She slid off the bench in the alcove and made to leave.
“No, wait. I am sorry to disturb you, when you wished for privacy. I am Catrin, Princess Catrin, that is.” She wasn’t used to introducing herself.
“I am Lady Ceridwen of Calumbria. From Gallivas.”
Catrin thought over the nobles of Gallivas. “Oh! Your father is the Duke of Calumbria?”
Ceridwen nodded. “We only arrived this evening, and after two full days in the carriage, I needed to be on my own for a bit.”
“I understand,” Catrin smiled. “We don’t travel as much as we did when I was young, but you want nothing more than silence after a journey.”
“Exactly so, my lady.” Ceridwen seemed nervous, which was odd.
“May I help you with anything?” Her nervousness aside, the girl was crying in an alcove. Catrin didn’t feel like she could just leave her.
“No, I thank you, I just…” Ceridwen started, and then sat down in the alcove again, covering her face with her hands. Shaking shoulders told Catrin she was crying again.
She sat down next to the girl, reaching a hand up hesitantly to pat her shoulder. “Please, let me help you, if I may. What is amiss?” She reached into her pocket, hoping she had a handkerchief.
One Night At The Ball: A Sisters of the Curse Novella Page 1
