The Power and the Glory

Book 1 Chapter IV: Visiting

"Hello, little sister. I hope you enjoyed your tour of the museum," Líusal said, perfectly straight-faced. Wonder of wonders, she was dressed in a pale blue coat that was neither tacky nor hideous. Her maid deserved an award.

Abihira was hardly able to respond to her greeting. She was too thunderstruck by the room's sheer ugliness. If only a suitably sarcastic remark had presented itself! But her mind remained stubbornly empty of any comments, sarcastic or otherwise, and she sat down after speaking barely a full sentence.

Líusal sat down opposite her and stared at her with the blatant rudeness of an older relative about to say something very offensive. Abihira gritted her teeth and prepared for the worst. She wouldn't let it affect her no matter what it was. She wouldn't.

"Well, I never thought you'd be a great beauty, but I must say I'm surprised at how ugly you are!"

...All right, that did sting. Abihira knew perfectly well she would never be listed among the most attractive royals. Her teeth were too sharp and crooked, her face too long and pointed, her nose much too harsh.

It was also her unfortunate lot to always be around much more attractive people, and to look worse than she was in comparison. She had also spent over five hundred years in the same court as Kiriyuki, who had no shortage of admirers until they got close enough to be scared away, and Mirio, who on multiple occasions had caused outbreaks of swooning and awful poetry among the young ladies of the court just by existing. As if that wasn't bad enough her fiancé was commonly called one of the most beautiful men of his generation -- though it must be said that Abihira had never noticed anything extraordinary about him.

(What was so wonderful about him, anyway? He had black hair? So did she. So did half the people on the planet. He had blue eyes? Again, so did she -- if you stretched the definition of "blue" far enough to include "silver[1]". So did countless others. No matter how often she thought about it she still didn't understand all the fuss.)

Anyway, it was disgusting hypocrisy on Líusal's part to call Abihira ugly when she was no beauty herself.

"At least I don't look like a gorsim[2] dressed up in a peasant's hand-me-downs," she retorted.

Líusal's eyes widened until she looked like she was doing an impression of a gorsim. "You little--"

The door opened. Hostilities ceased at once. Both women schooled their expressions into polite indifference and tried to look as if they were only talking about the weather. Abihira expected a servant would enter with kainoren[3] and snacks. Instead an only too familiar figure appeared.

"There you are, little sister!"

Abihira gave a most undignified screech and tried to jump over the back of the chair. Not him! Of all the people it could have been, why did it have to be him? She'd thought she was safe from him at Líusal's house. He couldn't stand Líusal! What was he doing here?

The bane of her existence, the nightmare she'd thought she'd escaped, the worst pest she'd ever had the misfortune to encounter advanced on her with the wide grin that always warned he was about to play an especially nasty trick.

"I only heard yesterday you were back in the city," Arafaren said. He spared Líusal only the briefest of nods. Even in the midst of her shock Abihira noted their older sister did not look pleased to see him. "What did you do this time? Whatever it was, I would have helped if you'd asked me."

That was only too true. Of all her siblings Arafaren was the closest in age to Abihira, and they had been expected to play together for most of their childhood. They had alternated between being bosom friends and sworn enemies. When they were adolescents Arafaren had gone through a phase of pranking the people around him -- usually Abihira -- on a daily basis. She had been the victim of far too many tricks before she finally lost her patience and pranked him in return. The resulting war had robbed everyone of peace for years. Occasionally they had teamed up. The memory of those incidents made even the bravest tremble.