"You have to be kidding me," Rayne stared at the majestic resin wood doors in front of her. An expression of someone being sentenced to die was etched on her face. She tossed her head back and forth in adamant disapproval. Her long blonde hair swung with each shake of her head.
"I am not setting a foot in that room," she crossed her arms stubbornly. Her eyes bored into the timid servant's, they flashed a sparkling sage in the strong sunlight.
"U-um. B-but P-princess," the servant stuttered, wringing her hands on her white cotton apron, "Y-you Father i-instructed m-me t-to t-tell y-you--" I placed a hand on her shoulder, calming the poor girl.
"Tiarae, please head towards the Ballroom and tell Father we will be arriving soon."
She bobbed her head in obedience. "Yes, Princess." She turned quickly and exited the room, closing the doors with a faint click.
I turned to face Rayne, her arms still crossed and stony expression on her face.
"Rayne, please," I started.
"Lynnie, not even you can make me get into that wardrobe. You know I hate wearing these dresses." She pointed a rigid finger at the nearest dress adorned with pink frills and crème colored laces.
"I know. I know," I sighed resignedly. "How about just for an hour? We can escape after that."
She scrunched up her nose, weighing her options.
"I'll even throw this in," I proffered a triple layer dark chocolate Decadence cake slice. It was situated neatly on a doily, the porcelain plate balancing on the palm of my hand. The aroma of melting chocolate rolled off the desert and floated like a tempting aroma through the room. Her eyes seemed to reflect the color of the dripping syrup as she gazed on her weakness.
"Is that...?" she trailed off uncertainly.
"Imported from Francena. Nothing but the finest ingredients." Then I smiled, a diabolical plan forming in my mind. As her hand extended to grab the delicacy, I turned swiftly.
"I was planning to serve it at the party... But if you aren't attending, I guess I'll just have to give it to Lorien." I sighed dramatically before calling, "Lo--!"
Her slender hands closed over my mouth,
"Fine! Fine! I'll come. Just don't expect me to like it," she threw open the doors and rummaged through the wardrobe.
I smiled. Ahh, the genius of triple layered Decadence cakes.
I moved towards the opposite side of the room. Winding my way through the antique furniture and gifts from relatives, sliding across the light hued carpet. I made my way to my favorite seat. In front of me was a four panel window, the two center panels were open wide, letting the clean spring air waft through the room. The crystalline glass reflected the light, sending a rainbow cascading across the room. Leaning my head out, I felt the breeze whirl through my hair. I could already smell the dew on the daisies, feel like bright rays of fun fall lightly on my face. Summer was on the way, bringing with it celebrations.
Tiarae knocked on the door, her fists rapping against the wood, creating a resonating sound.
"Yes?" I opened the door, my head tilted to the side.
"Princess Braelyn, your Father wishes you to be ready by the half hour." I waved my hand impatiently, "Yes, yes. We will be done by then."
I turned to the full length mirror. My amber hair was pulled up into a messy bun, tendrils of curled hair cascaded down the side of my face, my bangs swept to the side. I fidgeted around in my Trixxi dress. One sleeve clung to my shoulder, the frayed ends dancing in the breeze, the fabric cut across my collar bone to hang halfway down my shoulder. It was a pale periwinkle, the shimmering with a glossy azure, as volatile as the sky.
The wardrobe door opened with a bang. Rayne entered the room, looking like anything every other girl in Pandore would kill to be. Her usually unruly dirty blonde hair tumbled in delicate curls around her face, her wide sage eyes sparkling. She was wearing a knee length dress with straps that twisted around her neck with a criss-crossed behind her back. The waistline was held up by a leather belt that tied in a bow around her. The dress was an iridescent emerald, toned by a light cerulean to create an indescribable color.
Giving me a withering look, she sighed, "Are you happy now? I look terrible."
"Ecstatic. And you do not look terrible. You look beautiful, I don't see why you don't wear dresses more often." I replied shortly.
"Maybe because they're uncomfortable, unpractical, and ugh-It's like I can't breathe. I think my organs are coming up my throat."
"There has yet to be a girl who has had their organs pushed out by a dress," I said, rolling my eyes at her dramatic flair.
"How much do you want to bet?" she murmured under her breath.
I pushed the doors open in front of us. Bowing mockingly as she strolled past me, still in full flow about dresses and how they should be banned.
"At least try to have fun tonight," I said amicably.
"I'll try," she responded, "I don't know how successful I'll be though."
"The sooner we enter. The sooner we can leave," I said.
She rolled her eyes, "Well, shall we go then, Human Icicle?"
Cracking a smile, I turned to face her to complete our mantra of good luck,
"Moulin?"
"Rouge."
And with that, we walked into the Ballroom awaiting the torture of what was our 16th birthday party.
Waltzing through the open doors, blinding lights glared down at us. The high arcing ceiling had been removed, the plaster pulled away like a sheet. Now, the velvet night sky blanketed us. The stars sparkled down on us, like diamonds twinkling in the moonlight. Shining, brightly colored tinsel snaked around the banisters and columns. White paper lanterns hung from fixed pegs around the spotless ballroom.
Through a thin smile, I hissed at Rayne, "Let's move to the side before anyone-"
A figure slammed into me, the breath knocked out in a whoosh.
"Lorien?" I mumbled through his tuxedo as he pulled us both into a hug.
"Braelyn! Rayne! What took you guys so long?" he leaned back, a crooked smile on his face.
"The wardrobe is a maze," Rayne said seriously, "I got lost somewhere between Accessories and Shoes."
Lorien chuckled, "Well I wouldn't blame you. I don't suppose they have jeans or T-shirts in there, right?"
Rayne glared at him, "No. They don't. I didn't find a single pair of shorts."
Lorien merely laughed, running his fingers through his unkempt blonde hair. Each strand that would've flopped into his eyes, were pinned back by multiple bobby pins.
Oh the hairstyles of Pandore.
His viridian eyes sparkled in the light of the crystal chandeliers. He threw a look over his shoulder, Father was still in full flow of a new Law to be passed. Leave it to him to use our birthday party as a way to gain new supporters. Lorien cleared his throat,
"I guess, since Father is busy, I have permission to take my lovely sisters out on a date," he winked.
Intertwining our hands through his, we snuck out through the back door and out into the garden.
The wrought iron bars of the garden were left slightly ajar. The rusted bars arched high over our heads, intertwining on the top in the shape of the Lytian crest. Pushing at the bars gently, the gate swung open, creaking for oil.
Through the gateway was a maze. Rayne flitted by me, dancing in the moonlight. She threw her silver high-heeled shoes off, running barefoot through the dewy grass. The moonlight fell in shafts over our head, eerie beams of pale white illuminating our path. Twisting at every turn, we wound our way through the maze into the heart of the garden. Blooming flowers opened their petals, each fragile tongue lapping up the dark midnight. Vines snaked along the stakes, their leaves peeling off the thin stems. Lorien ran his fingers over them gently, plucking two Midnighters from their stems and putting them in our hair.
"Happy Birthday, my dear sisters."
"Lori-" Rayne started. But as her gaze slipped over his face and into the shadows, she let out a scream. I whirled around, and suddenly I could see them too. Slinking in the shadows... were silhouettes.
Whipping out a small dagger, Rayne glared around the clearing,
"Show yourselves!" A soft chuckle emanated from all around us.
"What will you do, Princess of Time?"
Snarling, she held her dagger aloft, "Don't push me."
"And you, Princess of Dimension, have been strangely silent." The voice continued.
"I have no time to be conversing with trash," I spat poisonously, whipping out an ebony blade.
"Rayne!" I screamed as a gloved hand shot out towards her. Bending backwards, she dodged the blow, slicing at the air with her dagger.
"Freeze!" she held her hands aloft up, one slightly in front of the other. The figure froze; stuck in time.
Slow, condescending clapping met our ears.
"Impressive, Princess Rayne. And now..."
Without looking around, I turned my head a fraction of a second before a dagger came at me. It flew into the bushes, and I thrust my dagger from where the attack had come from. The figure screamed, stumbling into the moonlight. I moved one hand across my body, the movement nonchalant. The figure flew across the clearing at my command, soaring over the gates and into the moat.
"Don't treat us so lightly," Rayne hissed angrily. She paced around the clearing as Lorien stood in the center of the clearing.
"Ahh, the renowned Elite. How I feel for your poor Mundane brother."
"Shut up!" I screamed, throwing my arms out and pulling every soldier I could find. Rayne froze the entire courtyard; time slowed down to a stop. Lorien's eyes were blank, anger bubbling beneath his surface of cool apathy.
In Pandore, there are rare people that are born with unique gifts. Some are controlling time, the weather, telepathy, telekensis, and so on. We aren't super heros, we don't prance around in colorful tights, many of us are recruited into the Militia or other jobs normal people-Mundanes-can't do. For some, being an Elite is an honor and to be Mundane-is well, mundane. For others, being an Elite is a curse, a virus, something to be exterminated.
For this reason, us being Elites is a touchy subject. And Lorien...well, he's always been bitter about this fact, not that he'd ever admit it.
Breathing heavily, I turned to Rayne.
"Let's get out-"
But a blade was at my neck, the edge pushing against my throat. With each traitorous throb of my pulse, the blade dug deeper into my neck.
"Anger is a weakness; you should learn to control it."
Something was pressed over my mouth, a sickly sweet scent flooding my senses. As my eyes closed against my will, I saw Rayne slumping to the ground. Lorien was swarmed by a mob of shadowy figures. As I turned away, I heard a faint scream and the carmine rose bushes on the side of me, was splattered in a dark red liquid.
Blood.