The main hall is so full of people that I escape to the relative emptiness of the outside veranda. I stand next to the stone banister and stare down at the kingdom below. Fallin Castle stands on the highest mountain in the kingdom, overlooking it's biggest city, Fallin. Outside the high mountain air is thin and chilly in my sleeveless ball gown, but I stay near the edge and watch the city.
The largest collection of light comes from the west side, where the temples are. Every night the priestesses light candles and magic balls for the people who have died but are still remembered. Their spirits in the sky can look down and know they are still loved. Further out from there, the city is still aglow with libraries, taverns, and theatres. It is called the city that never sleeps. I enjoy the view, for my chamber is devoid of any windows.
Surrounding me on the balcony are other guests, but they don't focus on the view like I do. To them it is an everyday thing. They live in the city, and when this party is over, they will return to it. But I am stuck here.
Most of the guests recognize me for who I am, and avoid being near me. Soon the veranda near me is empty but for elaborate ice sculptures. Beside me on the railing is an ice hawk, its wings frozen in the motion of just pulling off of the ground. Inside it glows a blue magic light, that I helped by making. Candles would have melted them, of course. Magic lights and flames don't give off any heat.
On my hand my newest diamond shimmers in the same tone as some of the ice. After my earlier attempt, the diamond is a soft orange colour. If I continue to fill it with power it will eventually turn to a deep jewel tone like the rest of my rings.
These rings are my most treasured possessions. They hold all of the extra magic I have been storing since I was nine. It is only with their help that I can attempt some of the bigger spells that Gerric forces me to do.
That is the only reason why he lets me own them. At the same time that he loves the magic I can do for him, he hates that I posses it. And fears me. They all fear me.
I turn around and notice that all the other guests have left the veranda. I hear the music playing inside and know that the dancing has started. I would like to join in, but I know that Kieran will be the only one to dance with me.
Limma awakens and crawls up my shoulder so that she can see the city light too. She has forgiven me for my previous small slight. After her movement some of my other rings begin to awaken also.
The dragon on my ring finger coughs up a small fire ball, then curls up back around his deep blue stone. On my other hand the ring with three butterflies flutters around before turning to stone again.
I rest my elbows on the banister and sigh. It seems such a flimsy barrier from a fall so great. I think of the quick sweet death I would have if I fell off. But the quiet wouldn't last long.
A voice from behind me pulls me out of my morbid thoughts. “The view is beautiful, huh?”
I freeze. Limma quickly scurries off my exposed shoulder and hides in my hair, her small body curved around my ear. I tighten my fingers around the banister nervously.
The man behind me doesn't seem to realize my tension, or who he is talking to. I hear his footstep come closer, stopping when he is almost directly behind me.
“You think that they would have a thicker railing considering how high above the city we are. Then again, the Fallin are known for their fearlessness.”
I stay still thinking that maybe he'll take the hint and walk away. No such luck.
“...the ice looks striking against the sky. They're lucky that the moons aren't out tonight. The complete darkness adds a certain... magic to the atmosphere.”
I shiver at his word. Who is he? No one who lives near here would talk of magic like it is a good thing, almost something to want. I am certain that I have never met this man before. Which means that he doesn't know who I am.
The honourable thing would be to turn around so that he could recognize me and still have time to excuse himself from the conversation politely. But nervousness freezes my body. And it has been so long since someone has talked to me and expected a response...
“You know, some astrologers think the moons are on a collision course. That in five years the orbits will overlap and they will destroy each other. Of course the priestesses have a legend for it. Do you know it? That on the day they will collide a bird dies, and his mate is so distraught that she chases his spirit into the afterlife. But once she gets to the sky he has crossed a barrier that she cannot, so instead she grabs one of the moons and transforms it into a small seed pearl that she carries back down to her nest. And so there will come a time when there will only be one moon in the sky. Hard to imagine, right? But it's a pretty story.”
I feel the emotions of the bird as strongly as if they were my own. To be alive with only rocks instead of the ones you love. “How does a single rock compare to the loss of someone you love?” I ask, my bitterness seeping out.
“Aha, you do talk! I was beginning to worry... I don't know. Pearls aren't even really rocks, you know? They are born from the sea. Supposedly created in oysters that absorb the moonlight. I suppose it wasn't really what the bird wanted, but maybe having the pearl was a reminder of the love she had once had. Maybe that was enough.”
Still I don't turn or move. I hear him relax and come to stand at the banister next to me. Nervouly I peek out at him from behind the curtain of my hair. Instead of looking at my face he stares intently at the sky where the moons would be, were they not hiding.
“Still, and entire moon to yourself. I wonder if anyone could truly own such beauty for themselves. I would think you would need to share it with everyone. Maybe the bird would give the pearl to—”
I startle as he turns to look at me for the first time. He breaks off his words as he takes in the tattoo that winds from my heart to my neck. The gown I wear does nothing to hide it. For a minute I wish I had accepted the high necked dress that Kieran had suggested I wear. I hadn't seen the point, everyone knew who I was, what I was, why try to hide it? But this man—boy, really—hadn't know.
He takes a step backwards automatically. I look down at the ground, my shoulders hunched and my hands hiding in the heavy material of my green velvet gown. Limma scares and scurries down my arm in a twirling trail. From under the curtain of my hair I watch his eyes track her progress with surprise.
They are nice eyes. The soft blue colour that all northerners have. But his are a deeper truer blue than I have ever noticed before. Perhaps it is just the blackness of the light, but it seems like they are flooded with colour, the irises threatening to overflow into the rest of the eye.
His face is still covered with shock, and he reaches up and pushes a lock of too long dirty blond hair behind his ear. I collapse back further, letting the banister support some of my weight.
“—to... to the sky again so that everyone could enjoy it...” He trails off and lifts a hand hesitantly in front of him. I watch it with dread as it comes slowly closer to me. His gentle fingers touch my chin where the leaves curl lazily, and tilt it upwards so that our eyes meet. I hear him gasp as his blue eyes meet my shockingly brown ones. His hand doesn't leave my chin, but instead follows the path of the vine.
“I'm sorry, I didn't realize...”
I prepare to clear my throat and say something back to him, when the doors to the patio spring open, letting out a wave of music.
“There he is!” shouts a female voice triumphantly. I notice when her eyes take me in with shock. “Oh!”
I jump away from the stranger and push myself up against the hawk ice sculpture. My hands dig into the large talons, my hands burning as I try to reign in my confused emotions.
Kieran stands with the strange girl. “Ah. Kellan, I see you met our Grimer.”
I force myself to look up and meet their gazes. But Kieran isn't looking at me at all, instead he is intent on the blond girl beside him. I avoid her curious stares, and the intense looks that the stranger, Kellan, is giving me.
“Wow. She's interesting looking. I can't believe you have a Grimer! I've never been so close to one before. Why does she have those tattoos?”
I wait for Kieran to answer the girls questions, but Kellan opens his mouth first.
“Don't be rude, Fran, she's not some object. Ask her the questions yourself.”
I wonder why he's defending me. I'm a Grimer. To the northerners I am little more than a pretty and useful vase they can use to show off their wealth.
I flit my eye over to him, but his face gives nothing away. “What are the tattoos for?” He asks softly.
Kieran cuts in. “Actually, Mila is forbidden to talk without our permission. You know how it is with Grimers, let their tongues loose and they'll have you dead in half a second.”
I meet Kellan's gaze with my hopefully pleading eyes. If he tells Kieran about my talking I will lose the few freedoms that I do posses. They will put me back in my small cell that I used to sleep in.
“The tattoo that Mila has around her neck is to keep her from speaking. It is inked with the blood of her father and my father. You both know that blood is the strongest magic.”
Not strong enough, much weaker than you think, whispers a voice in my head.
“It is the only way we can think to keep her from using her Grime to escape. Grimer's need to talk to do anything. They use 'words of power' to control their 'spirit beings'.”
I flinch internally as he uses the information I gave him in private, to try to impress his new friends. Magic using is secret and private. I had once tried to explain it to Kieran, back when we were close friends.
“Really? What are their spirit beings like?” The girl, Fran, asks eagerly.
Kieran pauses in his monologue. “I... I don't really know. She doesn't talk much about it.”
“Maybe,” Kellan suggests quietly, “if you released the bonds from her throat, she would talk more.”
Kieran hesitates. “Well, I don't know...” I see his gaze flicker back to the castle where his father is probably in the middle of celebration. A brief internal argument goes on behind his eyes.
“Please, Kieran?” Fran begs.
He breaks. “Oh, okay. She won't hurt anyone, will you Mila?” I refuse to acknowledge him. “Fine, you can answer Fran's question.”
A long silence follows his request. In it I shrink further away from them, with out actually moving at all.
“Make her answer!” Fran demands.
“Fran! I think you scared her. Maybe you should just go back inside and dance with Kieran some more.” Kellan pushes in front of me, blocking me from Fran and Kieran. I inch back further to avoid coming in contact with the back of his jacket. He watches as a reluctant Kieran escorts a flouncing Fran back into the castle.
While he is distracted I turn and flee, making my way toward the side stairs that lead into the kitchens. I speed as fast as I can in my silk slippers and full length ball gown.
“No, wait don't leave!” I hear him shout.
A hand touches my shoulder.
Without thinking I fling it off me, adding in the word for strength (Pasimm) to make up for what I lack in size.
In horror I turn to watch as Kellan is thrown against the balcony railing. He stands up again, holding his side in pain.
“I am so sorry.” I cry out.
“Well, it's not how young ladies usually respond to my advances,” he tries to joke.
I move closer to him, watching his chest. From his look of pain I can tell that I broke something.
“I... I'm not used to people touching me,” I explain, looking at the floor.
The silence stretches on, and I finally glance back up to meet his eyes. He is not looking at me however, but through me. His chest heaves as he tried to get in enough air with a broken rib.
“I'm not feeling so good,” he says woozily.
My first instinct is to run and get help. He looks like one of his broken ribs could have punctured his lung, which is very bad. I should run inside and get a doctor to help him. He is very clearly rich or important from the expensive clothes he wears and the way Kiernan had treated him.
But then Gerric would know that I used magic on someone. That I was using magic without his permission. And he would send me back to the cellar.
Instead I grab Kellan's arm and help him to the side door to the kitchen. It is in a tiny alcove, three steps down from the rest of the balcony. The worst three steps of my life. I am in no means as tall as Kellan is, and I am afraid to do more magic in the frazzled state I am in. Magic and nerves don't mix well.
“Who the hell builds a castle on the top of a cliff?" Kellan asks, staring down the edge of the 50 foot drop the castle is built on. "Are you all crazy?”
“Shhh, only some of us. Don't talk, you'll make things worse.”
I finally get him inside the door. The bakery is closed for the evening, all the cakes and desserts having been make far in advance. The only one left is Darrie, my nursemaid from when I was little.
Her eyes go round as saucers as I bring Kellan in and sit him down on a bench.
“Darrie, I've done something stupid,” I announce.
She closes her book and stands up, coming over to put a comforting hand on my cheek. “Say no more, child. I will go make sure no one comes in here.”
She leaves and I am left alone with Kellan, just as he starts to cough up blood. I rush to his side.
“Try not to cough,” I instruct him, turning him so that he is reclining against a sack of flour.
“Try not to breathe,” he counters, blood coating his palm. I give him my handkerchief.
“That's probably a good idea too. And definitely no more talking.”
I go to work unbuttoning his jacket and dress shirt. I try not to look to much at his hard muscled chest as I examine his ribs. They are a deep purple colour, and there is a bone sticking out in an area that a bone shouldn't really be sticking out.
Good job, Mila. You confirmed the obvious: his ribs are broken! Now do something!
“Shut up, I can't concentrate with you yelling at me,” I mutter.
“What?” Kellan coughs out.
“Nothing.”
I place my hands over his broken rib and close my eyes. His chest moves jerkily with every breath he takes in.
I bring my spirit being to my mind, and watch as she echoes my moves. “Lehara,” I whisper.
The ribs start to burn beneath my hands. I start to drain the power from myself, then when I feel myself running out, I pull from the magic stored in my dragon ring. It is one of the most complicated healings I have ever given. I usually never heal anyone but myself. People don't trust me to put my hands on them and not kill them.
I watch from the curtain of my hair that has fallen out of its up-do. Kellan's breathing returns to normal and the healthy colour comes back to his cheeks. His eyes come back into focus and he stares down at me, our gazes meeting.
Just in time for him to catch me as I faint.