by Monica Doke
“Yes, my love. I received word your mother was pregnant and would have her child shortly. I could not make it back in time to see her again before you were born. Twelve months passed before I returned, and only you remained. I had expected as much, based on what I knew of the Meta,” Andover said. Melody’s look hardened. Andover shook his head at her and continued. “Yes, it was prejudiced of me. I know this now. We all learn even when we are aged, Melody. I felt bad when I found out she had passed in childbirth.”
“How?” Melody asked, breathless.
Andover paused to consider his words,” I am not completely certain. Her brother attempted to explain it to me. He had custody of you when you were a newborn. He told me a child born of two Meta could be born of Ether alone. You were not a child of two Meta, so Pandora gave you her mortal being to bring you to life.” Andover’s face revealed something Melody had often questioned: his affection. The Pacretine continued gently, “That is the story I know. Pandora gave you to me so I could care for you and raise you. She left me things to give you at a certain age. They are around this old palace somewhere. I will give them to you in the order Pandora instructed.” Andover stood silently watching his daughter react to what she had just learned. The Pramacretine stared at her palms.
“So,” Melody choked out, her voice thick with impending tears.
“I am The Divine?”
Songbird
“You will truly need to dazzle the Fae Lord, Nicolai. He has not been to visit since you were very little. Nicolai is a sharp fellow and his tongue is proving to be quite the lash against our family,” Genewen was chattering away at Melody, who was eating as quickly and neatly as she knew how. “Melody, are you even listening to me?” Genewen asked impatiently. Melody was struggling with what she had learned, and she really did not want to think about the strange Fae man who came around every year just to hear her sing. Finally, Melody nodded at Genewen.
“Thazzle Nicolai, thing a thwong, make Pacrethine ‘appy,” Melody answered with her mouth dangerously full. Genewen averted her eyes from the sight. She was a very strict vegetarian and Melody was vigorously chewing lamb. Melody swallowed, embarrassed. “I think I am owed a favor.”
“Anything,” Genewen said happily.
“I want to manage the crisis in Derms, between the Fae and the citizens of the city,” the Pramacretine replied quickly. Genewen looked at Melody squarely, her gaze betraying her surprise. She quickly smoothed her expression. The crisis Melody spoke of was a trade war between families. Despite many intermediary actions, the two continued to squabble.
“Absolutely,” Genewen started. Melody jumped up exuberantly. Genewen pulled her back to the chair. “I need to ask of you two things, however, if you want this. I fully support your desire to take on more responsibility. After all, your influence is somewhat fanatic in this area. Nevertheless, your father will be hesitant at best and you must agree to an escort. The second is to ask your father yourself,” Genewen requested. Melody shrugged and nodded, shoving food into her mouth once more.
“You eat like a young man,” Alastaf teased from behind them. Genewen tried to keep her face straight, but Melody guffawed, an unfortunate sight with her mouth stuffed with food. Alastaf rolled his silvery eyes and marched out of the dining hall.
“You really do,” Genewen admitted, looking worried. Melody shrugged. “Do try not to do that tonight; this is a very important event for your father.” Several moments passed before the Pramacretine spoke.
“I will not make a fool of Father, or our family,” Melody replied coolly. “It is not as though one would have to do anything more than sit by and watch,” Melody muttered.
Genewen stared at Melody, shocked, “I am not sure where all of this hostility is coming from, Melody. You are such a sweet and lovely young woman. We should not be hearing words like those.”
Melody sighed unhappily and replied, “Father told me what I am. It seems I am some foretold savior of Fae. I think that is why I remain here. I do not actually belong. Worse, I am no longer confident about who I am. Once I was a girl who could be anything and now I have some predestined identity in which I do not get to choose or change.”
“I see,” Genewen said. She thought for a time before she spoke again. “You must remember, Melody, a destiny does not define you. You are upon a path. Who you are when you walk along will only ever be determined by you, darling. I could not presume to know what your destiny will be. I do not know whether it is this prophecy or something else. Whether or not you choose where your feet walk is yet to be actually determined. However, this does not make a single difference to who you are, other than to make you worry excessively.” Genewen was careful and reassuring. Melody nodded slowly. She flashed a brilliant smile at Genewen.
“You give incredible speeches, Macretine. You should be the one to orate instead of Father. He is so ungainly and silly,” Melody joked.
“So I have been told,” Genewen said demurely. There was laughter in her brown eyes.
“Do I really have to sing to them, though?” Melody asked, suddenly, “It is as if I am a show pony or a hog at a bazaar. Besides, it is my birthday. Should not someone be performing for me?”
“It should not shame you,” Genewen replied after a short laugh, “What your songs do for people, in my estimation, is akin to the manner in which a general will prepare his troops for battle. You make them brave and open. You give them hope. Your songs are not meek or womanly, they are vast and encompassing. You will sing,” Genewen finished sternly, but with more confidence than authority. “Besides,” Genewen began softer. “I have a few guests who you will want to sing to,” Genewen said.
“Nicolai?” Melody asked. Genewen shook her head.
“No, it is a surprise!” Genewen replied happily.
“Ugh,” Melody sighed. She hated surprises.
“You will enjoy this surprise, and it shall not be the only one. You will see a performance,” Genewen said as she left Melody alone in the dining hall. Immediately, Melody felt her nerves twinkle in anticipation to the evening. She vacated her food and bounded up the main stairs to the library, looking for something to calm her. She stopped at the top of the stairs and stood for a moment. The rail was long and it curved twice into a spiral.
Melody remembered when she and her middle brother, Thane had played on the staircase. He used to fly down the rail with her when she was very small. The Healer would place her in in his lap and they would go flying down until Thane stopped them in midair. Eventually she could go on her own and he would catch her. He said the sensation of falling was one of his favorites.
Melody pressed the heel of her hands against her temple as a headache assaulted her. Thane was Alastaf’s younger brother. They were both the sons of the Pacretine and the former Macretine, Serendipity. Melody was the youngest child of the Pacretine, being around a decade younger than Thane is. The Agouran people who did not live in the palace thought Melody was Genewen's until they saw the Pramacretine. She looked hardly like Andover and nothing like Genewen. Thane and Alastaf’s mother died in battle. Serendipity was C’ghalie who led the cavalry into the bloodiest battle of the entire war. It was the battle to end the war. Melody wished she could have met the former Macretine. Melody heard that in life Serendipity was an incredible woman.
The banister was so very long; it seemed the ride would go on forever. She would imagine flying through the air, seeing the cities and forests below her. Melody and her youngest older brother had always been very close. Thane adored Melody and everyone knew it. It was evident in how he doted on her. He used to love to hear her sing and to watch her do small Ether. They did everything together. When he came of age Thane went away to the Healer’s Conclave, apprenticed as a Healer. He worked for an old Healer in Feruun, a village very near the Tre'bulie Mountains, which traced the lip of the Divide, after his initial training. Melody missed him.
The young Pramacretine remembered the time she slid down the banister and as she hit the incline
Andover called Thane away and Melody landed on the gardener. Though the middle aged Human had been shocked, he had always been strong and good-humored. He reacted by rolling about laughing with her until Genewen found them. Thane’s absence burned her with loneliness.
Melody looked up from her thoughts and shook them from her head. She jumped up onto the banister and slid down. She closed her eyes and listened to the air waft over her ears. Melody reached the incline; ready to land on the hard palace floor. When Melody landed softly instead of hitting the hard floor, she gasped and opened her eyes to see a handsome, young man holding her in his arms. He had deep green eyes with flakes of yellow in them. His hair was long, black and he had tied it back with a string. It looked as though his hair found the position offensive and was escaping tenaciously. Melody saw a flush creep up his face and cheeks just below his skin. Melody could not stop herself; she burst out in laughter. He hid his face as he set her down.
“This is my daughter, Pramacretine Melody. Melody, this is Jaxon Callfah, of Derms,” Andover smiled as he introduced them. “It seems my darling daughter is discovering flight,” Andover teased. Melody noticed scars among Jaxon's features. She noticed the play of emotion across the young man's face. He first seemed surprised, then embarrassed, pleased, dismayed, sad and back to embarrassment. Jaxon shook himself as he delivered a stately bow.
“I have as yet only discovere1qad falling, Father, flight continues to elude me!” Melody said, facing her father. She turned and inclined her head to Jaxon. She smiled brightly as she spoke, “Please, call me Melody. We all know I am a Pacretine’s daughter, there is no reason to put it in my name.” Jaxon stared incredulously. Beneath his surprise was guilt and hesitance. He had heard many stories about the Pramacretine and he was not sure any of them fit the beautiful young woman smiling at him.
“Call me Jax, if you will,” Jax said, his voice small, but respectful. Melody realized after a moment that his voice, even in embarrassment, was soft and low. She smiled.
“You are a sibyl Conjurer,” Melody declared.
“What is a sibyl?” Jax asked, surprised.
“I can tell by your voice,” the Pramacretine looked at him and he flushed. “You are a Conjurer whose natural Ether leads you to speak with animals – to calm them.” He nodded slowly, happy to have one of his special abilities named. Melody stood in front of him speaking to her father when Jax observed her clothes. The Pramacretine was dressed in a sky blue tunic with black riding trousers. Jax had never expected a Pramacretine to be wearing such clothing. Trousers, no less! The young man noted all of the women in the palace were dressed in layers of silks and pearls, as Macretine Genewen was. He supposed they did not actually do much waiting for Melody. Jax saw her tunic had been slightly askew and it was much too large for her. He could see the outline of her figure through the cloth as the sun shone on her. Melody was small for a C'ghalie and was shapelier. He knew the race to be tall and lithe but this young woman was different.
Realizing he was not properly controlling his reactions to the Pramacretine, Jax averted his eyes to the floor. To his dismay, the young man could not get the image of her away from his mind. He could not stop the heat from filling his face, or the dread from filling his gut.
“I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you, Gentlemen,” Melody was saying to Jax and Andover. Jax barely caught her words, or her wide smile, before she continued, “it has been a pleasure, and a benefit for my well-being, to meet you, Jax. I hope my unconventional introduction did not soil any good rumors you may have heard about me.” The Pramacretine smiled brightly and turned on her heel to face her father, her long brown hair swung in a wide arc behind her. Andover's face glowed with mirth and a hint of curiosity. “Father, it has been made abundantly clear to me that I am required at your banquet this night. Evidently, this requires me to look like a Pramacretine, so I really must be preparing to alter myself entirely – after all, the event has been all I have had the pleasure of hearing about this morning.”
With a chuckle, Andover replied cheerfully, “Yes, I do know how little you favor the look, darling, but I would ask it from you, if only to hope it not too vexing. I believe Genewen is quite excited about the event.”
“For you, Father, I shall be there with bells on. I am certain there shall be a day in which I forgive Genewen for her intrusive exuberance,” Melody said as she started back up the stairs.
“Melody,” Andover said, smiling. Melody turned and continued walking backwards. “No more sliding down the banister unless you know someone is there to catch you. Or at the very least, someone to fall on,” Andover requested paternally. Jax smiled at the Pacretine’s words. Melody laughed. Jax liked her laugh, as it was not the usual feminine, behind-the-gloved-hand sound to which he had grown accustomed. It was full and genuine, just like the girl before him.
Melody replied her eyes mischievous and her voice playful, “I might have known you were there, but I shall never tell you,” She turned and continued walking up the stairs, as she continued, “not under Frogaern water torture, listening to Genewen’s constant chatter, not even if you tickle my feet. You cannot break me, not a…” Melody went on until the two men could only hear her voice but not her words. Jax stared at the stairs after the unusual Pramacretine.
The Conjurer felt a shift in himself and realized he wanted nothing more than to be near the young Pramacretine. He wanted to be everything she touched. Dread filled him, stretching his nerves and twining them about his heart. He felt wistful and terrible all at the same time. Butterflies ravaged his stomach. Andover eyed the young man beside him, a small grin played across the Pacretine's face as he led them away.
“Might want to close your mouth now, Son,” Andover advised Jax and chuckled lightly.
..
Melody reached the corridor, which led to her room when Alastaf came out of the darkness. Melody gasped. She had readied the knife she kept in her boot.
“Alastaf! You really should not do that! I might hurt you! You remember last time,” Melody cried. She sighed and put away her knife.
“I want to know what my father told you,” Alastaf snarled.
“Even if it were your business, Alastaf, I do not take orders from you. Not yet and not ever if you speak to me this way,” Melody declared. Alastaf pushed Melody against a wall and demanded again she tell him. Melody grinned.
“…Or Al's horrid breath,” Melody sang into his face. She removed his hands with unexpected strength and went into her bedroom, shutting the door curtly in his face.
“Alastaf is such a demon,” Melody said to all of the women in the room. She realized quickly that there were more women in her room than normal and laughed at her late reaction. Gertrude handed Melody a blue dress. It was fashioned the same blue color as the little Pramacretine’s eyes. Over the brilliant blue silk was a black gauzy lace, which was very shiny. It looked to have had many different colors on it in the light.
When Melody looked closer, she realized the colors were little people dancing. There were Humans, C'ghalie, Merimae, Gnomes, Meta, Serare and a few Faeries appeared to be in the center of things. Melody stopped to look at the Serare. She swore it was looking at her. Gertrude poked Melody to get her attention and she helped her into the lovely dress. Melody spun around in the dress. The bodice had a modest neckline that was square cut and tight fitting while the bottom fell past her feet. The material was so lightweight that aside from the corset, Melody hardly felt dressed at all.
Melody looked at her reflection in the mirror as the troop of women put her together. They crowned her with a thin silver circlet, which hid beneath her hair until it came to her forehead and cradled her face, just above her eyebrows. Then the women plaited her hair and strung ribbon and pearls through the length of it, puffed a cloud of sparkling powder over her exposed skin and placed delicate silver jewelry on her neck and ears. Melody could hardly feel the weight any of it. Each piece of silver jewelry, including the circlet, featured a dangling, small white
orchid with a tiny canary diamond in the middle.
Melody stared in the mirror thoughtfully. The Pramacretine thought she could be beautiful. She wondered what men found beautiful. She looked down at her chest; her breasts squished beneath the material, and peeked out of the top. She wondered if people would look at them and blushed, warming to admiration for her femininity, rather than her power or position. A knock at the door made the whole room jump.
“Pacretine Andover for ye, Pramacretine,” Gertrude announced. Melody came to the door, ruffled because she did not wish to wear the ridiculous fancy shoes and everyone was insisting she should. They pinched her toes painfully.
“She may go without shoes. It is at least more elegant than boots,” Andover instructed. Gertrude begrudgingly relented. “My, my,” Pacretine Andover said, smiling. “And to think, you are my daughter.” He chuckled as he offered his arm to Melody. He spoke as they walked, “You know, that dress was your mother’s. I hope you like it because you look stunning – so grown up! Happy birthday, my darling.” Andover spoke affectionately. Melody smiled brightly. She loved that it was her mother's dress on her birthday. She felt as though she had her mother with her.
“Thank you, Father,” Melody replied with tears in her eyes and gave him an energetic embrace.
The Pacretine and his daughter stepped into the entrance of the dining hall and the entire congregation stood. Seconds after Melody entered on her father's arm she realized Thane was sitting on the table for the Pacretine's family and honored guests. The Pramacretine felt her stomach do a flip and had to grasp the skirts of her dress to keep her composure. Thane spotted her and she watched him smile radiantly, a smile she knew she was reciprocating. Thane was tall and thin, like most C’ghalie. He had short black hair and vibrant gray eyes. His face unusually pointed. Melody loved the way a smile made his face glow. The Healer stood cordially as she came to her seat.
