by Nicole Adamz
I dove beneath high-end stores searching for the tailor’s shop most students at Ascension frequented—still surprised I was one of them. The True One really blessed me, so I have to make the most of this opportunity. Not only am I Totality Claimed, but I was also assigned to apprentice the Second Born Story Weaver!
If I can save up the dosh I receive as a Tyro I should be able to purchase Zora when she goes up for auction next year. Anxiety twisted in my gut. If I could purchase Zora, I could free her when I Ascended to Caelum. I could also protect her.
If she’s reported as a leader of a True One sect before I become a Caelum, they’ll execute her. I swallowed hard; my mouth suddenly dry. Wanted posters, Official Notices, and advertisements plastered store windows, filling the streets when they fell. The yellowed pieces of parchment flashed in and out of view, seasoning the Market District.
The newest Official Notice was on both sides of the wall. They had popped up last year. A few were even plastered over the Wanted posters for alleged True One believers and sympathizers. Zora’s face hadn’t popped up on one yet, but I always checked when I made a trip to the Market District.
Slowing, I scanned the posters and notices again. The notices warned about supply shortages regarding our trades with the Dwellers. There was an assurance to the public not to worry, and a list of items being rationed at the bottom. Most of the items didn’t concern me, but the food did.
Our household survived off of my father’s pension as a retired Ward General. Food was always a concern. We received a small amount of dosh, a basket of goods grown inside the Barrier, and a portion of meat every month. The dosh was immediately spent at the make-shift market running on the streets below the Market District from strictly monitored vendors selling excess food or objects not wanted by the High Lord.
Anything procured or traded from beyond the Barrier was taxed by the Aerial Council. Goods inside the Barrier weren’t taxed because they were donated to the Aerie and the Private Holding before being sold to the public. How else would the High Lord and High Families live in such luxury? I thought mockingly.
The emblem for the tailor whizzed by, so I turned and made my way back. Faded fabric, twisted through the railings lining the rooftop. I folded my wings, snapping them to half-mast at the last second to soften the impact of landing. The dust from my landing whiffed into the air, and a woman with a host of bags at her feet gave me a disgruntled look, sniffing disdainfully. A murky shadow hovered around her, but when I blinked it was gone.
I walked toward the stairs at the side of the rooftop, weaving through patrons lounging at tables while their Anomalies fetched their owners’ purchases. I passed an Anomaly coming up the stairs, her arms loaded with dangerously teetering boxes. I raised my brows sympathetically as the harried servant walked by.
The little, silver bell above the door jingled merrily when I walked into the bustling store. A stressed clerk whirled around fetching garments while a tailor did last-minute alterations in the corner. I stifled a sigh and waited at the back of the long line, discarding the idea of going to another shop. Great, I groaned mentally. This is one reason I avoid shopping.
Finding another tailor’s shop now would be futile, I thought irritably. All the shops in the Market District would share the same demanding patrons and hectic hum in the air. Several parties were being held tonight, and each host would try to out-do the other while guests mingled or party-hopped. Despite the shortages the life of the rich goes on as usual.
Some shops employed Tropos Caelum to waft air currents beneath patron’s wings and aide landing to prevent disturbances for other customers. I mentally scoffed. Tropos Caelum as personal air buffers. No wonder they complain about being forced into Maintenance positions even if they’re Totality Claimed.
Totality Claimed was the position everyone hoped for. Having both hands marked with runes assured a lucrative position—unless your markings identified you’re Talent as Tropos. Controlling air currents was useful, but it wasn’t entertaining. Anyone with Tropos designs, whether Fractional or Totality, was slotted into Maintenance positions. There was a lot of grumbling over it.
No one picked how much, or which, Talent manifested during the ritual. We were lucky to have enough Talent to pass. However, Elysian with one marked hand were Fractional. Fractionally Claimed individuals were also Maintenance slotted—no exceptions. Everyone knew Fractional was an option if they passed the Abeyance, but while they had a respectable status in Summit, they weren’t revered like Totality Caelum were.
The symbols on my hands were unidentifiable to everyone in Ascension—even the Docents who were adepts of their Talents—but I was lucky both hands were marked for Totality. Totality Caelum performed at parties and were paid handsomely. Zora could retire in ease with the dosh I would make. If she stops her dangerous activities and quietly worship the True One in secret, I thought resentfully.
As the line slowly moved forward, I eyed the orange feathers on the wings of the man in front of me with interest. Maewyn would like it. The satin cloak clutched in his arms sparkled with tiny diamonds, and he pompously stepped toward the counter, brandishing his cloak at the clerk.
“The diamonds are barely visible!” he complained loudly.
“My apologies. There’s a shortage of large jewels, and nothing we can do.” the clerk said irritably.
The man scoffed, haggling over adjustments. I shifted impatiently, worried about the time. I still need to dress Maewyn for this evening, and she wanted me to purchase a new pot of feather dye, I groaned mentally. Maewyn was picky about attire—hers and mine.
The dispute ended I found myself facing the beak nosed clerk. He winced when he saw my bi-colored eyes and wrinkled his nose distastefully. “May I help you?” he said.
Habit made my lips part, and I frowned. Trying to speak would invoke the spell cast during the Abeyance that bound me to silence. Making a mistake like that is costly. At best it was painful. At worst it was deadly.
“Well? What do you want?” he snapped.
Uncomfortable, I glanced at the counter. A display of neatly lined dye pots sat next to a small display of Rascette Cuffs. Relieved, I randomly picked a pot of color. Maewyn won’t care about the color too much. She just wants her feathers dyed.
Seeing my hands, the clerk glanced up. “Tyro?” he said doubtfully. I nodded.
“Uniforms are in the stock room. Gladys will take your measurements for a better fit,” the clerk said haughtily.
I laid the dosh for the pot of dye on the counter, stuffed it into my satchel, and pretended not to hear his sniff of disgust while I walked to the back. I was overdue for a new set of uniforms but life at Ascension, and being assigned to Caelum Maewyn, was an adjustment I hadn’t prepared for.
I passed through a small door at the back-left corner of the store, ducking as I stepped down. Bolts of cloth in every color and weave imaginable lay stacked or scattered haphazardly around the room. Materiel hung chaotically from the rafters and strolled nonchalantly across mannequins. The only order seemed to be color.
I gingerly pushed aside a few bolts of sunset colored satin trying in vain to locate Gladys. A voluminous outfit wrapped around a mannequin wriggled suspiciously, and I suppressed a squeal when a head poked out from the depths of a large, green skirt.
A spectacled eye stared at me. Gladys? I thought with amusement.
Her arms shifted the green silk until it was wrapped around her shoulders, hanging like a flowerless meadow. “Aha! I thought I heard someone rustling around in my bolts and samples,” she declared. Correcting her tilted glasses, Gladys gave an annoyed huff. I smiled.
“Well, if you’re going to stand there like a mannequin don’t do it there,” she said and pointed to a spot a few feet away, “do it over there.”
She stared at me without flinching, her eyes narrowing before she disappeared under the material with another huff, effectively closing the hole she’d appeared through. Her reappearance a moment later was punctuated
by mumbling around the pins in her mouth.
Gladys stuck the pins into the pleated folds of a sash draped diagonally across her body containing several pockets. Concentrating on it, she bumped into me. Looking up, she blinked rapidly, ire was apparent in her gaze.
“I thought I told you to stand over there,” she said, her brows pulling down while she pointed. She tilted her head, considering, “Or maybe I didn’t.”
She shrugged and swatted at strands of dark hair hanging in her face. “I’m Gladys, although I assume you know that. I don’t think you’d be back here otherwise. Which means…” she paused, studying my hands, “you’re a Tyro who needs uniforms!”
She tugged at the end of the measuring tape around her neck and it snapped in the air while Gladys positioned my body and took my measurements with an unflattering ‘hmmm’ at my chest measurements. I grimaced. The True One never blessed me there, I thought ironically.
When Gladys finished measuring me, I rushed out the door and onto the shop’s rooftop. The Market District disappeared into the city behind me as I flew toward the Private Holding where Ascension sat. I landed and hurried inside. Passing the carved marble staircase in the foyer, and the open arch of the feast hall, I made a right toward a wing of personal suites housing Caelum and their Tyro.
Entering the suite assigned to me and Maewyn, I found her pawing through jewelry spread over her bed talking loudly to herself. Long silver hair flowed over Maewyn’s shoulders and past her waist, bouncing with every word. Her hands flapped animatedly in the air like a pair of birds in flight while she talked, and charm and congeniality wafted around her like a scent.
When my shadow fell across the bed she looked up, “Thank Aeolus you’re back! Do you know how boring it is not to have someone to talk to?”
I pursed my lips and chuckled internally. You don’t need someone to talk to as much as you need someone to talk at. Which is why having a Tyro without the same Talent doesn’t bother you. I watched, intrigued, when she finally paused to drag air into her lungs. Maewyn grinned, her vibrant green eyes sparkling.
I glanced around, groaning inwardly. I’ll have to clean this up before we leave, I thought and shot a longing look in the direction of my small room at the back of the apartment as Maewyn propelled me toward her vanity. She sat on a stool and pulled out glass jars and pots in varying shapes and colors.
“I want to look my best,” she said and added, “I assume the hideous Tyro outfit you’re wearing won’t be making its way to the Revue with us.”
I raised a sardonic eyebrow and shrugged. This was a common complaint from Maewyn. She wanted me to wear something other than the Tyro uniforms. Something more scintillating and appropriate to her status. Something that would make me break Ascension’s rules and the Old Traditions. I staunchly refused every time.
No one at the party would look twice at me anyway. Welkin knows no one else looks at me but her, I thought and rolled my eyes. I was merely a Tyro. She’ll have to get over it. I’m not breaking the rules or Traditions for her aesthetics.
Maewyn continued talking, absorbed in her one-sided conversation. I smiled grimly, reminding myself I wasn’t the only Tyro tasked with dying feathers, and that I was lucky Maewyn was my Caelum. When that didn’t take the edge off the arduous chore ahead, I reminded myself of why I wanted to Ascend to Caelum.
“Don’t just stand there. There are only a few hours left,” Maewyn said bossily. Zora. Me. Freedom. I chanted.
“You can dye just the tips since we don’t have much time. I really shouldn’t have let you go on your errand today,” Maewyn bemoaned, sighing dramatically before spreading her wings.
I carefully picked up the pot of dark, gleaming dye, pausing before I opened the lid. Even a half-dye will make my fingers cramp before I’m finished. I let a silent sigh fall into the room. Oh, the price of someone else’s beauty.
Chapter 3
Maewyn
ARI STRUGGLED TO WASH HER STAINED FINGERS of the rich violet dye. It took days for the blue to wash off last time. I turned, examining my dyed feathers in the mirror.
The violet color was my family’s insignia color, and an inadvertent reminder of the duty I had to the Ambire family. My palms sunk into the heavy, white silk of the Caelum uniform laying on my bed, and I traced the detailed flora embroidered along the edges. Long stems of purple and yellow flowers curled past the secret pocket sewn behind the slit sweeping up the bottom of the garment.
Being the Second Born Story Weaver in a century had come with more drawbacks than many knew. The least of which was relying on random Anomalies to see to my needs once I Ascended to Caelum. I was overjoyed at being assigned a Tyro, even if Ari’s Talent was unknown. However, my joy at being assigned any Tyro had phased into shock at the foreign creature who had knocked on my suite door.
Ari’s right eye was a normal color, but her left was a burnished gold I hadn’t seen on anyone. Not even an Anomaly—and they were born deformed. It was a peculiar birth defect, but I’d determined not to be off-put. It’s not like she’d chosen to have bi-colored eyes, so I’d made sure we became great friends. Although, I suspected her of being a True One believer.
Once, I’d seen her odd necklace while searching her room for anything interesting while she was in class. I couldn’t stand being bored. Plus, she just reeked of a do-gooder mentality. Everyone knew Believers clung to the “do unto others” Tradition. It’s what gave most of them away. No one could afford to be nice in Summit. Being nice didn’t get you close to the Aerie, and it certainly didn’t come with any dosh.
I could have reported my suspicions, but who knew how long it would be before I received a replacement? Besides, I liked having her around. It was wonderful having a Tyro do things for me.
Ari scowled, her odd colored eyes giving her a wild appearance. She gave up on scrubbing her hands clean when I tapped my foot impatiently. Most of the dye is off and won’t smudge my dress. Ari quickly dried her hands and held out my dress. I gingerly stepped inside, feeling the smooth material glide up my skin while Ari tugged it into place, fastening the closures at the small of my back and shoulders.
The Caelum uniform was white: a color denied to the rest of the population on Summit if they didn’t belong in Ascension. It displayed our worth to society for being born with more Talent that manifested and marked us during the Abeyance. I hated it.
It’s dull, I thought petulantly. So, I’d done what any intelligent woman with a mind for fashion would do. I’d had every uniform altered to suit my tastes. After carefully checking Ascension’s regulations. Castia, the seamstress in our family, had added an embroidered pattern to every uniform. Thank Aeolus the regulations were stricter on the Tyro uniforms. Enduring them in public was horrible.
I shuddered delicately at the recollection of the scratchy, cheap fabric I’d endured for three years. I’d made the best of it; mixing uniform tops and bottoms to create a unique ensemble instead of the drab, singular appearance of every Tyro. I’d even worn regular clothing within the suite I’d been assigned.
A memory threatened to bloom, and a frown marred my forehead. I shoved it down, smoothing my face into a smile. That’s in the past. I’m not a Tyro anymore, and he can’t touch me. Instead, I allowed myself another appreciative look in the vanity. Ari worked the chains of a single, amber jewel to the fastenings on my shoulders, letting it fall down my exposed spine. It glistened against the creamy expanse of skin between my wings.
A comb of amber tulips budded in my coiled silver hair, gleaming like soft drops of sunlight. Another gift from an admirer, I thought smugly. Ari dusted crushed pearls across my exposed skin. Hopefully the Heir shows up at this Revue, I thought with a sultry pout of full, rose painted lips. While I examined myself Ari walked by, rolling her eyes in amusement as she left the room.
I waited until she was out of sight to grab a few cards with my name and lodging number on them from the vanity drawer. The one place I know Ari won’t bother cleaning, I thought, slippin
g them into the hidden pocket of the slit riding up my thigh.
My room was a wreck, but Ari would clean it when we returned. That was part of her duties. I cast a fond glance toward the disheveled woman, deciding to ignore her hideous garb. I glanced at myself again before walking into the common room. The family’s spy said Heir Talon will be at tonight’s party. I must bewitch him with my performance. Grimacing, I thought of the family tribunal I would sit through if I didn’t succeed.
Some of the Fractional Tropos Caelum gave me disgruntled stares when we arrived. My Talent was a stronger variation of theirs, but I ignored them. Who can entertain with mere air? I scoffed, walking past them into Lord and Lady Durus’s dais. This is my chance to enthrall Heir Talon. Excitement curled in my belly. If I’m made High Lady, I can finally tell my family to bug-off.
Fractional Augment Caelum twisted greenery into sculptures, forcing flowers to bloom. Colored orbs floated among the shrubbery, streaks of glimmering light that hovered in the garden. Fractional Illuminary Caelum had finished creating the orbs and moved inside, lighting hundreds of candles and lanterns with a flicked wrist or snapped finger. Each room was washed in separate colors. They get the easiest jobs, I thought dryly.
The marble floor of the grand dining hall shone with specks of silver and gold, and six pillars ran parallel on each side of the room. Large curtains hung between each pillar, creating alcoves for guests. The floor-to-ceiling window was the length of an entire wall and show-cased the garden.
I glided to the window and examined the room while Ari left to check on my harp. If I place myself here while performing everyone will see me. Whether the Heir likes what I play or not, he’ll at least notice me. Satisfied, I turned toward the framed garden. It was structured and lovely. So much like my family’s garden, and every garden within the Inner Holding, I thought with loathing. Every single family in the Inner Holding tries so hard to be different—but not too different.
