Chapter Fourteen

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   Crista takes the lead. Extending her hand, she moves to knock on the door. I don't know why, but I was expecting something a little bit more extravagant. When Crista talked about a Council, I thought they would be living in luxury, just like the royals, not a simple wooden cabin.

We both stand behind her. She draws in a long breath, before curling her knuckles. Knocking three times, we wait for a response, but nothing comes. We wait even longer, looking at each other, not knowing what to do. The wind howls, but there is not much to it. In fact, the air is very thin up here.

Lifting her hand again, she goes to knock, but before her hand can hit the door, a voice sounds from the other side.

"You may enter."

It sounds youthful. A high-pitched tone trying to sound wise. Slowly, Crista moves for the knob. Turning it ever so slightly, she opens the door. The smell of rosemary is overpowering. The aroma is delicate yet eye-watering. I swallow my saliva over and over to get the strained feeling from out of my throat.

Crista steps inside, tiptoeing over the threshold. I follow behind her cautiously, Rebecca on my tail. My eyes scan in all directions. The walls are obviously the wooden logs, but it is the pictures on them that catches my attention. Tiny, little photographs hang off the crease of the logs, portrait after portrait. One in particular catches my eye. Nothing about it is special, in fact all the pictures look the same. Except this one has a woman and a little boy instead of a little girl. All the other photos have the little girls' hair in pigtails, with a stern look on their youthful faces, but this one, this boy is different. He sits upon the woman's lap holding her hand. The joy in his face almost brings a faint smile to mine, and then there is something... jumping up and down, my brain tries to make the connection as to what I'm seeing, but nothing comes to mind. Rebecca pulls me with her after I had fallen behind, and all I am left with is an empty feeling of mystery.

Pushing those feelings aside, I open my eyes to the common room. A golden chandelier hangs in the center of the room, the warm light reflecting, making the wood glow. Ahead of us I see two chairs that look like thrones. One is definitively bigger than the other one, lined as the centerpiece.

A girl drapes herself in the big chair that I can only guess is not hers. She only looks to be about ten. When she sees us, she plops herself from her relaxed position, folding her legs into one another.

"May I help you?" she asks, that same youthful wisdom in her tone.

Crista bows before the throne. I never thought she would bow to anyone other than the King, her uncle.

"Please accept us, on behalf of the moon and stars. We come with a request, and would greatly appreciate to be heard."

She sounds so proper as she speaks, the opposite of what I had known her to be on this trip. Her speech sounds genuine, so I listen on. My eyes still wander. I don't know where to look. Should I also be bowing, or should I be looking at the little girl? Trying not to be awkward, I stay where I stand, slightly dropping my head.

"And, what might this request be?"

"Emma, what are you doing?"

A woman comes from the other side of the room. She wears a red dress that runs like a river to the floor. Her hair is tied up in a bun, resting on the back of her head.

"We talked about this. No talking to the guests while I am not here."

"But mom..."

"No buts."

Frowning, the little girl hobbles back over to the smaller throne. She slumps in her chair, over exaggerating her movements. I look over to the lady again. She stands, looking us up and down. Her lips in a thin line, she takes a sip from the glass she holds in her hand. Again, I get that feeling of power, much like Damian. Power oozing out of every atom they are made of. Just from her appearance, I can tell she knows what she is doing, and I can't tell if that is a good or bad thing.

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