Brooms Always Leave Dust

97 15 13
                                    

~Chapter 2: Nicholas~

A scream penetrated the heavy oak door that Nicholas had just closed.

He paused, considering if it was worth his time and safety to check on his step-sibling, Hames. There was no need as the door was flung open and a silk robed figure bolted down the hallway. The daily newspaper was flying open in his hands, scattering the economics and gardening sections on the plush carpet.

Nicholas glanced at the silver tray that he was holding, pondering if it was safe to follow Hames, who had turned into the room that belonged to his step-mother. The door further down that hall opened and Nicholas's second step-brother's pale head poked out.

"What happened?" The younger step-brother, Ruel, demanded, his eyes landing on the tray holding his breakfast.

It appeared to Nicholas that he was going to have to deliver the breakfast. "I don't know, Ruel," He spoke softly as though the vase of flowers next to him would shatter if he was too loud. It was his experience, though, that some of the objects were cursed by his grandfather some fifty years ago, and it best to be wary of many of the furniture. The curtains in the drawling room liked to grab unsuspecting passerby's when they were not properly fed.

Ruel let out an impatient sigh and ran into his mother's room, leaving the door open. Elevated voices with angry comments drifted into the hallway.

"Someone must have canceled the party they were to go to today, Nicholas mumbled to the vase of flowers.

"I would place my bets on it," A high, bell like voice responded.

Nicholas jumped away from voice, almost losing a plate of eggs as he glanced at the vase. One of the flowers turned to look at him, the creases between the purple petals folding into the shape of two eyes and a mouth. He pursed his lips to keep from yelling out, that flower had not been talkative when he had picked it.

"Would you like to bet on who canceled the event?" The flower appeared to raise an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

"I wouldn't but thank you anyway," Nicholas said pleasantly, eyeing the door as the voices grew agitated for a moment.

Several more flowers in assorted colors all turned to look at him. "I knew he'd say that." A red one said.

"I bet you're making that up," A light pink one retorted sourly.

"Well, I bet you're just betting to bet!" A blue one yelled in a high voice.

"You bet!" The original purple one whapped the blue one with a petal.

The flowers erupted into a flurry of insults and petal whapping. Nicholas stared in confusion. This was the first time that that particular vase had shown anything magic related. There was a vase in the kitchen that could boil just about anything, though.

Then, his name was called in a shrill shriek. He glanced over his shoulder. "I must be going...please don't make a mess."

The flowers paused mid-fight. "Good luck!" They called after Nicholas. "He's dead," They whispered to themselves.

Nicholas entered his step-mother's room to find his step-brothers brooding on opposite sides of the four-poster bed, where Mabella was nestled in layers in blankets and pillows.

Mabella was a small, delicate woman with greying blonde hair and an ageless face. When she stood, she barely reached Nicholas's chest, and her voice was shrill. Why his father had married her after his wife had died was beyond him.

His step-mother leveled her gaze on him, then to the tray of food in his hands.

"You're late," She folded her hand before her. "There is no longer a need to prep Ruel's and Hames's fancy wear for the tea with the princess. Instead, I need you to call Master Climens and order new suits. Along with a blue vest for Ruel and a green vest for Hames. The princess is holding a series of three balls, and they need the suits ready by tomorrow night."

Without StarlightWhere stories live. Discover now