Threads of Emerald

Ropes of Fate: Chapter 31

The snow was falling in flurries. Shimmering snowflakes falling into my palm. So delicate and detailed, I wondered who had taken the time to design them.

The snaking white cobblestones of the Clock Quarter of Visha, the sprawling capital of the Emerald Kingdom, had come to life as snow blanketed the streets.

I loved Visha, and I didn't want to move. Neither did Aphina, she'd miss the cup of spiced chocolate and frosted tarts she currently enjoyed as they headed to meet their mother at the dress shop.

As they finally reached the dress shop, Madame Swift's Boutique written in the same silver that flecked both Aphina and my eyes, I took in how the dying sun cast an orangey hue over the peak of the craggy mountain. How the trees looked as if they were set fire in a golden blaze as the sun streamed through their withering brown leaves.

The bell sang a little tune as we stepped into the shop. Mother sat in clam-shell shaped chair fashioned from a purple material so dark it reminded me of the fizzing blackberry drink the street vendors had sold in the autumn when we'd arrived.

She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes that stole their light as the sky stole half of the moon when the Witches Moon decided to appear, her skin was paper-thin. She still looked beautiful, eyes that looked as if they were filled by the cerulean waters of the Trell River, golden-brown hair that shimmied under the orange lights of the parlour.

Mother had recovered mostly from the poison. But, she would never have the same strength again. She'd always have to sleep more than the rest of us. She'd always grow tired much more quickly.

But, she'd survived.

No one knew why she was the only person at the Lord's dinner party that had her drink poisoned. She'd only been there to re-design their home, a trip that was supposed to take all of a week and bring back a cheque that could support our lifestyle in Visha for another few months.

But, the only thing that trip had brought back was a half-dead mother who could no longer work and an uprooting of the lovely life they'd built for themselves here.

Father had accepted a job at the Emerald Court last week. Mother had sent our things to Bluebell Cottage. Aphina and I had given up trying to persuade them to move somewhere less secluded.

Mother was watching me, reading every thought that crossed my mind. She beckoned me to sit next to her. So, whilst Aphina poured three glasses of cinnamon-spiced tea, I plopped onto the forest-green couch and ran my fingers along the velvety material, leaving marks that quickly disappeared when I smoothed the fabric down again.

"Seraphina, I know you love it here, but we can't afford to live here anymore."

"We've built a home here, could I not get a job? I'll work at the little café down the street from us", I willed my voice to remain steady but it still caught slightly on the word home.

"As for your second question. I wish that would help us. But, your father now has a job that can just about sustain us. We're only going to Bluebell Cottage until I can work again. Then you can return to your studies and become the greatest librarian the world has ever seen", before I could interrupt, she continued.

"Home isn't something you build Seraphina. It is you", she poked my chest gently, "and Aphina and your father and me", some life seemed to have been breathed back into her face.

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The sun was sweltering, beads of sweat ran down my arms and legs as Aphina and I lay on a grassy plateau on the banks of the lake outside Bluebell Cottage. The lake always had a strange tinge in summer, as if there were a thousand colours trying to break through the surface. It was beautiful. As if broken pieces of stained glass had been deposited at the bottom of the murky depths, lying there until they used the energy from the sun to attempt to break through the surface. Father said it was probably due to the plants that grew in the lake when the sun was at its hottest.