by James Somers
Not that this was any threat to Evelyn. Certainly, her husband, Stephen, had visited that woman’s chambers from time to time. It was so with slaves among all of the royal houses. They provided power to their royal bonds and diversions in the night. Evelyn bore the children and had sole claim to her husband’s love, but men are what they are. Their appetites can be tiring after a while. Evelyn did not think it so terrible to wield the authority while the bond sated Stephen’s overactive masculine indulgences in her place when she felt unwilling.
She felt no jealousy. No bond could ever supplant her. No Daughter of Eliam could ever become queen. They were and always would be property. The mistress held her husband’s authority and the final say in the business of the house.
Her blonde hair was pulled up in a braided bun that allowed the collar of her gown to be seen high on her thin neck. A clear diamond pendant the size of an egg sat just above her breastbone. The gown itself was burgundy with silver accents and lace sleeves.
The wand sleeve woven into her dress held a rod of silver with ancient runes carved into the metal. They outlined the breadth of power it wielded and its limitations. When the previous mistress of House Rainier had passed, the wand had waited for Stephen to marry. When Evelyn became the new mistress, the wand came to her; literally appearing for the first time in her hand at the conclusion of the royal wedding. It had been with her ever since.
With her right hand, she removed the silver wand from the sleeve of her left arm. Though some who used Malkind wands spoke to them their commands, those who held a deeper understanding applied their own blood in order to create an inseparable bond. Evelyn was such a person. She only needed to think her commands now, and her wand obeyed.
Even so, Evelyn held the wand up to her lips, speaking the name of her eldest son. “Nathan of House Rainier.”
The tip of the silver Malkind wand began to glow with white light, like sparkling crystal. The runes carved along the length of the wand shimmered with this same light. Evelyn waited a moment while her wand communicated with another held by Nathan Rainier. Had he been a commoner with no privilege, she could instantly have communicated, finding him in whatsoever state he happened to be in at the time. He could have been on the privy, and her image would appear there with him unannounced.
However, Nathan’s royal heritage guaranteed him a wand, and it protected him from such intrusions, intercepting her transmitted image and notifying him by a similar glow and an audible bell chime. After a moment, the bed chamber around Evelyn changed, becoming the palace study of her son, Nathan. The details were exact, and it was as if she actually stood in that distant chamber with the young man. However, this was only an illusion, and one that Nathan did not share. He still saw his study, only with her standing in the room. As the traveler in this communication, her viewpoint was the only one to change.
The eldest son of King Stephen was tall with broad shoulders like his father. His dark hair was neatly styled and cropped above his high collar. His eyes were a very light brown, bordering on amber. He was nearly the image of his father at the same age, and looking at him caused Evelyn’s heart to ache for the days when Stephen courted her as his bride.
“Greetings, Mother,” he said, addressing her image. “How go your preparations at the abbey?”
“Troublesome,” she admitted. “There has been a change of plan. The girl I had originally hoped would become your bond has proven to be undisciplined.”
“More trouble than she’s worth?”
“Unfortunately,” Evelyn replied.
“I see,” Nathan said, beginning to pace about his study.
Evelyn recognized his anxiety. He could never sit still as a child, when he was agitated over something.
“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that Father’s condition worsens every day,” Nathan said. “Honestly, I’m surprised Bella has had the strength to keep him alive this long.”
Evelyn was already aware of everything Nathan was telling her. However, she didn’t bother to correct him for stating the obvious. He was as nervous as she was about the king’s failing health. Even now, the other great houses waited upon his death like vultures circling the sky. They saw an opportunity here where they might wrest the crown from House Rainier and establish the monarchy in another location.
Unfortunately, in this situation, it might not even cost them open war. If House Rainier could not produce a bonded successor to the throne before Stephen died then the crown would be forfeited. At that point, politics would take over and a consensus had to be found between all of the great houses as to where control lay.
Bella, the king’s bond, was older than Evelyn by nearly ten years. It was only this Daughter of Eliam and her life force which now sustained Stephen. Through the bond, they shared life and power. Evelyn was comforted by the fact that her life was not the one being sacrificed in order to keep the king alive. She would live on after. However, when Bella’s life energies expired, so would the king.
“Do not worry so,” she said. “I have made other arrangements. Marissa will become your bride, as we planned, and, in due time when I pass, she will succeed me as the Mistress of House Rainier.”
“And my bond?”
“She will arrive with me in three days’ time among my caravan.”
“Very well, Mother,” Nathan replied, attempting to calm his fears.
“Until I arrive, you must keep Bella strong for your father’s sake and ours.”
“I will triple the guard on them both,” he assured her.
“Good,” she said. “We can’t afford to lose them before your bonding ceremony.”
Nathan Rainier bowed to his mother. Evelyn then released the link sustained by her wand between them. The glowing runes upon its surface returned to their usual state. In Nathan’s study, her image vanished. At the abbey, Nathan’s study and his image also disappeared. Once more, Evelyn stood alone in her bedchamber.
Harmony and Heartache
Celia came to wake me as promised. I recalled my dreams with perfect clarity, even the parts that were disturbing to me. Still, it was hard for me to deny some aspects of that world that I knew came from my waking mind as well as my unconscious person. Finding Mistress Evelyn as an old crone who hated me and desired only to cause me pain was certainly not an idea born only of my subconscious. The events earlier that day were only one example of the sort of behavior I had come to expect from that woman.
Still, I was excited by the dramatic difference in this dream from the others. Celia had encouraged me to ask the man of my dreams his name, something that had never actually occurred to me, and this time I had done it. More to my surprise had been his reply.
I was smiling as Celia helped me with my gown, fastening the buttons that ran up the spine of the dress with a button hook. As yet, I had said nothing, hoping Celia would bring up the subject. She was anxious about something, and I could only assume that it must have to do with Mistress Evelyn and the dinner in her honor.
Only the girls from our ward and our Matron, Hannah, would be present. Anytime Mistress Evelyn came to us, it always set everyone on edge. The woman was insufferable, and there was no pleasing her. She berated Hannah for her sloppy management of Rainier’s abbey, and, in turn, Hannah berated us for our slothful ways and inappropriate conduct.
Celia caught my smile in the mirror. “What are you up to?” she asked.
Since I had only been waiting all this time for an opportunity, and she might not have provided another, I began to gush about my experience in the dreaming world.
Celia smiled when she heard my excitement. “I knew he would come to you again while you slept,” she said. “You must tell me all about it at once. I need some cheering with this dinner ahead of us, and I can see that your news must be so wonderful that you’ve quite forgotten all about the striping the mistress gave you earlier today.”
I turned to her from the three-sided mirror in my blue velvet gown. My eyes changed from green to a deep azure
to match the gown. This ability I had learned when I was only ten-years-old. At the time, my eye color would change with my mood—a trait that startled commoners in the Daughters of Eliam. However, I had learned to control this trait very well. Celia didn’t make any mention of the change. Her eyes matched her lavender gown already.
I explained the beginning of my dream, when the crone had abused me. Celia laughed at this. It was not the first time my unconscious mind had portrayed the woman this way. She had heard that part many times before.
However, as I moved on to my mysterious dream man, Celia quieted and grew intent upon catching every detail. When I got to the dancing, she sighed as though she might swoon at any moment. As the dream lovers floated away from the ballroom, Celia gasped. Her lavender eyes sparkled with delight.
“So romantic,” she said, clasping her hands to her breast. “I must start having dreams like these.”
“But that isn’t all,” I offered.
Celia grinned. “It isn’t? What else happened? Oh, you promised you would leave nothing out.”
I laughed at her eagerness, placing my hand upon her cheek. “I did as you suggested.”
“You asked him his name?”
I nodded.
“And he told you?”
I grinned and nodded again.
Celia gasped at this. “What is he called?”
I grinned and then turned back to the mirror. “We really should finish dressing for dinner,” I suggested.
Celia swatted me across my posterior with her lace fan. “You promised,” she pouted.
“He called himself, Killian,” I replied, watching her reaction in the mirror.
She looked puzzled. “Killian,” she said, repeating the name for herself. “Have you ever heard that name?”
“I haven’t,” I said. “What do you suppose it means?”
“It seems strange that you would make up a name for this man when you’ve never heard it before,” Celia postulated. “Still, he is only a dream.”
My smile faded at this, and Celia noticed my downcast expression.
“But it is still a lovely dream,” she added. “Now you may call upon Killian in your thoughts. What a lovely distraction.”
I nodded, smiling a little at this. She was correct, Killian was only a dream. However, knowing the name of my prince could only make the dreaming sweeter.
When I had dressed, Celia and I joined the other Daughters of Eliam in the anteroom, adjacent to the main dining room. Our titles, as such, sounded very elegant, and one would have thought we held high station. The truth, however, was that the Daughters of Eliam were only highborn slaves.
Besides Celia and myself, the abbey was home to nine other girls. I was the oldest at seventeen years of age. Celia was next in line; two years my junior. The next girl in line was only eleven-years-old; too young to be bonded and far behind either of us in her training.
Celia was the only girl with whom I felt I could share my thoughts. Even she was a bit immature, but at least she was close to my age, having similar interests. Fortunately for both of us, we had always gotten along splendidly.
The other nine girls were also dressed in finely crafted gowns. Despite the fact that we were slaves, we were well provided for. It was only that we had no free will to live our lives according to our desires. Even the commoner could come and go as he pleased. Not so with the Daughters of Eliam. We were always subject to the Malkind and their mortal kings. They used our bodies and they used our power.
From the oldest, me, to the youngest, a six-year-old named Kayla, we stood as rigid as marble statues, waiting for Hannah to ring the bell from the dining room. Each and every one of us had learned stillness and obedience the hard way as a young girl living within the abbey under Hannah’s care.
Still, it was no wonder she was so stern with us. Our bad behavior reflected directly upon Hannah. More than once, she had faced the same sort of punishment I had endured earlier at Evelyn’s hand. I supposed any sane person would rather show little mercy, in order that we perform as expected, and thereby avoid receiving those punishments herself.
We heard the bell; eleven dolls dressed in our finest and ready to be put out on display. From the youngest to the oldest, we filed out through the door when the servant opened to us. Our dresses represented eleven different colors, yet there was no clashing of hues. We were a rainbow on parade for our royal guest of honor.
I came through last, after Celia, in my azure blue. Mistress Evelyn was already present, standing next to her chair at the head of the table, watching our every move. A female servant—for there were no males allowed at the abbey—waited patiently behind her tall chair to seat her when Evelyn would begin to move again.
We did not look at the mistress until our lineup had reconvened along one side of the table, where Hannah, dressed in her best, awaited us. As we stood at attention, our eyes were reverently set upon her. The gesture was done only so she could see that we had each mastered the ability to match our eye color with our gowns. She scrutinized each living doll without comment for a few moments.
Finally, she nodded, indicating that the servant could seat her. Once she was set at the head of the table, we girls scattered in the direction of our designated seating assignments.
The table was long, able to accommodate thirty persons and food enough for twice that many. The service was laid out already. The power of we who were called Eliam’s Daughters kept the flies and pests away from the abbey. In all my time here, I had never seen a fly or a rat or any such creatures. Our spells, though that is a terribly crude word for it, warded them away.
Mistress Evelyn allowed the servant to push her and her chair up to the table. The rest of us, including our matron, Hannah, seated ourselves five to a side. As the oldest, and being the odd person out, I sat directly across from Hannah. We were positioned closest to Evelyn in order that she might speak to us if she so desired. It would be extremely unlikely that she would have any want of talking to the younger girls; though she had spoken on occasion to Celia.
The first course was served without conversation. None of us dared to speak, unless a question was directed to us from Mistress Evelyn or Hannah. A broth was ladled out into the bowls set before each of us. Steam rose from my spoonful in twisting curls as I brought it to my mouth. We did not slurp. We did not gulp. Every mouthful was delivered with utmost severity, as though we meant to smother all impropriety with silence.
Anxiety levels were very high. Evelyn had said nothing. I watched Celia and she watched me. Hannah was watching all of us like a vulture perched in a tree, waiting for its meal to stop wriggling. Celia and I had developed a way of looking at one another without looking. I could see her in my peripheral vision with what most would consider startling clarity. All the while, our eyes appeared to be fixed upon distant points.
We did not smile; not even once. Actually, this part was pretty easy, since every person at the table was wound as tightly as bowstring; every person except Mistress Evelyn. She’s the one who had us on edge. For her part, she was the epitome of elegance and grace. If she felt she had anything to say to us, then evidently there was all the time in the world for us to wait to hear it. She was royal; a Daughter of the Malkind. She waited for no one.
It was during the dessert, after a grueling five previous courses, that Mistress Evelyn finally addressed our group. She did so without fanfare. There was no preamble, just the shocking news.
“I have decided that Celia will accompany me on my return journey to Rainier,” Evelyn said.
On her first syllable, every one of us girls and Hannah stopped eating. We straightened and listened to every word. When Celia’s name was mentioned, every girl at the table opened their mouths in astonishment.
Evelyn continued unperturbed. “She will become bond to my son, Nathan, since Raven has proven herself unworthy.”
Hannah’s eyes were on me from across the table. She knew how I felt about Celia. She was like a little sister to me, t
he closest to family I had. Hannah likely expected me to make some sort of outburst at Mistress Evelyn’s terrible news, but I was no fool. The pain of my earlier punishment was still fresh upon my skin.
Inside my mind, however, I was screaming long and loud. How could the mistress do this to Celia? She was too young for this. Her training was not complete. All these things and more I wanted to say to the woman, but I knew better. She wouldn’t have listened anyway.
Celia was reeling from the news. I could see it in her eyes. It was as if Evelyn had struck her a blow to the face. She was in a daze, not even meeting my eyes. Her breathing became rapid and shallow. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had fainted, but Celia held on.
When her eyes did meet mine, they were pleading. Someone had to do something. This couldn’t be allowed to stand. Hannah would not do anything about it. She would not brook any argument whatsoever. I had to say something, anything that might stop this.
Then the last of Evelyn’s words replayed in my mind. “Since Raven has proven herself unworthy.”
My lips quivered, as I realized the awful truth. I had done this to my beloved Celia. I had doomed her to this fate all because I questioned matters which I should have simply accepted in dumb obedience.
Tears fell upon my cheeks and rolled down my face, dropping onto my dessert plate. I should have known something like this might happen. What a fool I was not to anticipate Evelyn’s unalterable course. She required a bond for her son. When I made myself troublesome in her sight, she was bound to turn to the next girl in line, regardless of her age or depth of training. This was the result.
Evelyn sat at her dessert for a full five minutes more, eating pudding as though nothing at all was the matter. I could not help but notice the smirk upon her ruby red lips. She was actually enjoying the misery her news had caused. Her eyes flicked up to mine momentarily.
“Why, Raven, you have hardly touched your dessert,” Evelyn observed sweetly. “Is something wrong, dear?”
My breath caught in my chest.
I lowered my eyes again. “No, Mistress,” I replied. “I’m not very hungry at the moment.”
