The Contest

Chapter 16: Willow DeLaughery

"Willow, did Mother tell you about the king's speech?" Cecily asks as she watches me write down some things in my notebook. Luckily she can't see what I'm writing, and simply brushes it off as a diary or something. We are sitting on the floor, her in the middle of the room sewing an article of clothing and me leaning against the wall across from her. I shake my head in response to her question without looking up. "Tell me," I say simply.

"Well, when we got to the square, there was a huge crowd already," she begins. I smile as she continues on excitedly, and glance back at my writing as I listen. "The king started speaking, and all eyes were on him. In the middle of the speech, someone was pushing through the crowd, and he shoved someone who bumped into me. I caught them, but not before I heard screams."

Intrigued at this, I look up at my sister. Her eyes are closed, but she wears a focused look, and her brow is furrowed as if trying very hard to remember every detail. "I think..." she trails off, deep in thought. "I think someone threw a weapon? One of the men with the king jumped off the stage and all I know is one minute, his hands were empty and the next minute, he held a huge weapon. A mace, I believe?" I nod for her to go on, and even though she can't see it, she resumes speaking. "And then the guards were moving everyone out of the way to safety. There was shouting and fighting, but I couldn't really tell what was happening. I was surrounded by too many people to see into the center of the square. All I know is that the king lived, and he's safe now."

I watch her eyes flutter open and her expressions is grim. "So basically, there was an attack on the king. Luckily the attempt failed, but..." she pauses and sighs, biting her lip anxiously. "What if there's another?" she whispers. "And what if this one doesn't fail?"

I'm not sure what to say to that, mostly because I don't know what would happen if the king was killed. Regnum has had the same king for as long as I can remember, as long as I've been alive even. I've never even thought about having another king.

I don't have to answer her, thank goodness, because Grams is making her way into the room with a book. She takes a seat in the rocking chair in the corner, opens the book, and begins skimming the pages. Cecily takes interest in this, and I sense the relief for a change of subject as she asks, "What are you reading, Grams?"

There is a flicker of panic in the amber eyes of my grandmother, but she recovers and says, "Oh, this old thing? It's just a book of ancient legends and stories." Cecily lets out a small laugh, seemingly amused. "I've never thought you were the type to read legends."

"Why ever not?" Grams inquires, flipping a page in the book. Cecily shrugs and says, "I don't know, I've always thought you were the type of person to enjoy history books." Grams acknowledges this with a grin. "Cecily, dear, can't an old woman amuse herself with silly things every once in a while?" Cecily smiles back and laughs to herself, "I suppose."

A comfortable quiet falls over the cozy room for a while as I continue my writing, Cecily sews, and Grams reads her book. It is peaceful and warm, and I am grateful that I decided to come back. What would I have done if I hadn't come home? Stayed in the woods? Left entirely and started a new life in a new town?

The silence is broken by a sudden round of quick knocks on the front door. Mother rushes out from the kitchen to answer the call, and I hear someone speak to my mother, though I can't make out what is being said. I glance at Cecily who shrugs, and then at Grams who is staring in the direction of the door in confusion. "It's late," I hear her mumble, "who could possibly be visiting at this hour?"

Mother's slightly weary voice drifts to the living room as she replies to the person at the door. Grams quickly shuts her book and hides it behind her chair, then leans back and relaxes, closing her eyes. She seems to sense something, perhaps danger, and I've always trusted her instincts. I turn in my notebook to a blank page and begin drawing a flower to hide the odd subjects of my experiments and powers.

I have done this just in time to see my mother enter the room and give us urgent glances. Cecily and I take the hint and stand to head into the kitchen. Three men stand behind Mother, and I look up to catch a glimpse at the young man who seems to be the youngest. He couldn't be much older than Cecily. His ghostly white hair threatens to fall into his eyes, but is short enough that it stays out of his field of vision. And his eyes...

Silver like the full moon in the clear night sky, with specks of snowy white. I've never seen such mesmerizing eyes in my life. I feel my heart flutter and my face heat up as an unexplainable feeling overtakes my senses. I almost say something or ask if he felt the same thing, but feel the circumstances to be inadequate and turn away. Cecily takes my arm and leads me to the other side of the kitchen as the men follow Mother into the living room. She scurries out as well, and softly says, "Can you girls please start preparing the herbs for tomorrow's breakfast?"

Cecily and I nod and begin fulfilling Mother's orders. I wash my hands and grab the herbs from a small wicker basket on the counter while Cecily takes the small wooden cutting board out of a cabinet, as well as a freshly sharpened knife. I hand her a small pile of oregano and chives, and she begins mincing the greens expertly. Mother hums softly as she continues washing the silverware from dinner, the sounds mingling with Cecily's chopping and blocking out any conversation from the other room.