Light in Dawn

Chapter Three - The Lucas Princess

Merry Christmas everyone~

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"Catch, Andriana!"

As if on cue, the lid of her right eye jumped slightly. Well, that was always a bad omen. Andriana swung around as fast as she could, keen eyes searching for an identified flying objects in range. There! She raised her hands and caught the flying plate between her wet gloves. The residual force from its flight almost made her back away two steps.

Instead, she gracefully whirled back to the sink, utilizing the excess force as a part of the momentum. Behind her a half-hearted cheer slash sneer sounded.

At least she should rejoice at the fact that the plate was empty.

On some days Andriana honestly thought that if Kelsley High had a frisbee team, Josephina and her would immediately qualify as captain and vice-captain. Even coaches. After all she had spent five years catching dirty bowls and plates while doing dishes and Josephina spent the same amount of time throwing them. That was ten years of experience between the two of them.

It hadn't always been so harmless though. Andriana recalled as she adeptly rolled two plates over into the drying rack. It was a habit that the Lucas princess started when her mother was gravely ill. Mr Lucas was always at the hospital - he vanished from home an hour before visiting hours began, and only return in a dark mood an hour after the visiting hours, scarcely leaving any instructions for the two young girls alone at home. The one order he did leave behind was "never leave the house".

Well, her highness was rich, but never the popular girl in primary school. Her friends rarely came to pay their respects once they realized that she was trapped in the 923m² space of her house for the entirety of the summer holidays. No flashy car rides and gold class movie tickets mean no friends. So for Josephina, it was a matter of conjuring up new methods of torment for her sister. For a dull and unforgiving girl like Josephina, she was gifted with incredible imagination in that field. In that holiday alone she invented the frisbee dishes game, homemade chandeliers from glassware and kitchen alchemy. Once she honestly tried to raise a demon with a pentagon drawn with honey. Every day Mr Lucas returned to find his home akin to a battlefield site and heard his daughter testify Andriana's guilt in the matter.

Then what ensued was hell for Andriana. She was subject to private punishments by Josephina and more housework. The master of the house never listened to Andriana's side of the story - why would he? It was perfectly plausible that his adopted daughter should rebel without supervision.

At first she would attempt to complain. She would tear up, she would cry out at the injustice, and then learn that it was futile. Now she knew better. Over the years her mask of indifference was close to perfect.

Done. Andriana flicked her hands to dry the gloves. She pulled them off and placed them near the window sill to sun-dry, and then adjusted her sunglasses.

"... we have to be prepared since that's tomorrow." Josephina's upbeat voice drifted into the kitchen from the living room. Andriana began making her way towards her own room when the same voice intercepted her impatiently, "Andriana, are you even listening?"

"No," she replied curtly, stopping short before the couches.

"We're expecting a very important visitor tomorrow," Mr Lucas began without looking up at Andriana; in her peripheral vision Josephina rolled her eyes at the word "important". So it was one of those business guests again. "She will be here at precisely ten and it will take up a full day. I expect you girls to spend the rest of today and tomorrow morning getting the house in absolute pristine condition. Better still you can bake something for tomorrow - she prefers to have lunch and tea indoors."

Andriana nodded, "is that all?"

"Yes," He waved dismissively. "You should go too, Josie. You heard me."

Josephina didn't wait to be told twice. In large strides she overtook Andriana, heading to the corridor that led to their bedrooms. The smile on her face vanished as soon as she was out of her father's sight. As she passed Andriana, her elbow nudged the other girl.

Andriana understood the signal. Follow me.

The door of Josephina's room closed behind them. The mistress of the room sat on her bed casually. She pointed at Andriana, who was left standing. "Listen. I have no interest whatsoever in being a servant girl for whatever obscure actress Dad brings home tomorrow. So I will go out and tell him I have one of those days again. You stay here and do what he says, or I'll tell him about your hair. Capiche?"

My hair. Of course she'd never let go of it. Andriana silently cursed herself for making the slip a several months ago. She checked the clock on the bookshelf. "Seven o'clock?"

"In two hours," Josephina nodded in agreement, sealing the last detail of the already well-rehearsed plan.

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Her room was always in perfect order. The furniture arrangement was simple: a double shelf, one for books and one for paintings, a single bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a bean bag in the corner. No trophies on display, no posters pasted on walls. Overall her room appeared rather spacious.

Andriana sat down on the computer chair before her desk to collect herself. A moment later she leaned forward and pushed the large sliding window open. On the second floor, she could just see the nearby park and the roaring ocean in the distance. If she needed more air, there was always a balcony through the sliding door a metre away.

There was the late Mrs Lucas to thank for the view. She had chosen this room - the room that she had reserved for her second daughter. Andriana had received it with gratitude. It was true that her room had not been embellished since five years ago, but at least she could keep it.

She hung no paintings on the wall; she painted them. She'd adorned them with her dreams and thoughts. There was a castle on a lake that has once appeared in a dream, an explosion of a new star in space, a magical garden, and the lost Atlantis at the bottom of the ocean.

The ceiling was the night sky. That took her twelve-year-old self weeks to paint on a ladder. Every star was carefully outlined with luminous paint. At one stage she was afraid of the dark. The glowing stars always lent her reassurance.

For an artist she had an unusual partiality for the colour blue. Even though there were other colours in her paintings, blue was always dominant - all shades of blue, from sky-blue to midnight-blue.

Not all shades. Out of the blue a colour emerged in her mind. Andriana rushed to the spare drawers in her wardrobe and rummaged for her paint set. It took three tries for her to mix the right colour on the palette. Cerulean she used often, but not quite like this - the hue was slightly darker, with a tinge of grey. A deep, stormy blue. 

Andriana carried the brush and palette to the door. There she left an incomplete project. Two months ago she had carved patterns onto the beige door - instruments, plants, objects, an assortment of symbols. She had coloured in everything save for the main motif - roses. She's tossed up all the colours on her palette. No bright colours; white was invisible against the background and black was too dark.

Tentatively she brought the brush to one of the roses near the frame. One stroke, then another. With a smile she toned the colour and daubed the edges with shadows and highlights. No other colour had been able to present the elegance and independence of the flower so well.

How did her mind conjure up this colour in the first place?

Andriana set the palette down and stared at the rose she had just painted.

A pair of fathomless eyes returned her gaze evenly, piercing with a hint of mischief.

She dropped her brush and adverted her eyes.

Of course. It was the colour of his eyes. How could she forget?

And how on earth did she consider this colour beautiful?

Andriana collected her brush and palette, washing away every trace of the cyaneous blue. She cursed, without knowing who she was more frustrated at - Julyan, or herself. In her mind she heard his voice once more, "You'll see me again, soon enough."