Banshee

"parents"

 There is a loud, quick knock at the door that resonates and hums against its reflective oak. I sigh,

     “my lady? The King and Queen have requested your audience for breakfast." I look to the mirror, flatten the golden circlet against my brow and open the door. The pink marble reaches high into the air and swirls like white dragons against the bright sunset. The long rows of pink pillars glint and glow in the morning sun that wafts through the long domed glass ceiling.

I stop walking in a large shaft of sunlight streaming down and tilt my head back, looking up at one of the great glass bubbles and feeling the sun on my face. My hair slips off my shoulders and I close my eyes feeling the warmth seeping in against my skin.

  "Breakfast room  please." I say, my words are full of power, slipping off my tongue like honey. I don’t always speak to the sun and the shadows when stepping, but I find it comforting and it was helpful when I was still learning. When I open my eyes I am standing in the large shaft of sunlight closest to the big shadowed door behind in which my "parents" sit. I tilt  my head respectfully to the long window and the sun behind,

  ''Thank you again.'' I say under my breath, before stepping out of the light and into the shade of the great door. The booming sound of my knocking makes me smile, that I should enter with such a great sound of power in an encouraging opposite the meek, silent daughter I become in front of the king and queen. The door opens and I put on my mask of the girl that they know the girl who is shy, timid, helpless and not me! I leave behind Maeve goddess of day and enter to the world of Grace the 14-year-old girl who has  not yet gotten her goddess identity. I walk in. The raised platform with its high table and backdrop of banners is intimidating enough without my mother and father sitting behind. With her hands folded in her lap my mother is the perfect picture of  Idealistic beauty. Falsely painted lips cheeks, lightly dusted the colour of a rare rouge butterfly's wings, eyes a colour of a thousand violets in full bloom. Her dark hair is woven in and pinned Back into intricate weave and the dainties silver circlet presses  evenly on her brow. Both are wearing  blue robes, my mothers the color of the deepest lake. Trimmed with silver peals and covered like dew with thousands of little blue stones shaped like raindrops. My father's robe is simpler with small black stones inlaid in silver, but as I shift my wait, my eyes snag on the sharp angles, cut evenly into little black stones.

 I hold my breath and bow low, seeing my reflection in the marble floor. I think of Conner. The only boy I had ever loved. My stomach clenches with a sickening force, sending my heart to my throat. He is dead. I set my jaw, there is so little truth in my worlds but this is what it is to be, I must smile and laugh and make pleasant conversation with my parents. My fake parents. I am expected to sit and have breakfast my parent , wail my insides melt with guilt and grief. I found out the truth about my parents only two short years ago and I’m still unsure and confuse the man and woman that I love so dearly where not who they said they were. Perhaps unannounced to them, the late king of castle Blane is my true father. My real mother was the Goddess of beauty and finding beauty in things that were not perfect. Her name was Juliet, goddess of beauty of the pure line, and my father was mortal . As a punishment to seeing each other and for having me, my father was brutally murdered  and my mother was sent to be the banshee, a monster  of the night, sent to collect souls nightly and bring them back to the hall of soul, for them to be counted, recorded, rested and recycled . My mother escaped the council’s punishment by ways of suicide. After she was sentenced and then later deceased, I was taken to the council and later given to queen Tiyana, Goddess of false predictions of the troubled line and Orsel, God of guilt and worry of the troubled line, great parents I know. I look up and smiled but it was too quick and complicated see through, especially to the queen of false perception

 "What ails you child" my mother says

  “You see worried" my father chimes in ironically. Could I lie? Would they know?

   “ I’m sorry if I seem distracted, I have a pounding head and I fear I’m ill” I tried politely. I hear the hesitation in my voice, surly so could they. My mother tilts her head knowingly but my face is like stone and she moves on, my father simply turns back to his croissant and tea.

 "come join us Grace” I grind my teeth and not the often of eggs on a silver platter. The name. My true name is Maeve, not Grace never Grace. Reluctantly I sit between them. faymaids bring me tarts, topped with sugar glazed of rose petals, warm croissant and light lemon tea. i mutter a thanks you too each knowing many of the faymaids personally. My parents’ would be truly degusted to know that there only hare conversed with the faymaids.