"Genevieve." Mother said it softly, almost pitifully. Gen raised her head slightly to see her mother standing in the doorframe and Mira peeking out from behind her. She turned over on the lumpy mattress and heard the dismal creak of her bed.
The palace probably had better mattresses. They were probably stuffed with swan feathers and plumped by maids every single morning for the frail, delicate backs of stupid royals.
Genevieve was stuck, plagued with thoughts she never thought she'd have to think about. The soldiers left soon after they dropped the news of Gen's acceptance. Her acceptance to something she definitely didn't apply to. The train for the palace left in two days.
She wouldn't be on it.
She couldn't be the Royal Prophet. It was ridiculous. She thought her parents and Mira would agree with her but...
"I only want you to think about it," said Mother, stepping inside.
For Gods' sake. Gen sighed, "I can't. I can't go Mother. I can't leave you guys. I can't believe you don't see that."
"We'll be fine Gen," said Mother, coming to sit on the side of their bed. Mira followed shyly. "This is an amazing opportunity- I can't believe you don't see that."
"I know it is," she said, grumbling. She sat up in bed. "But Mother, there's one teeny tiny flaw in your big plan: my curse! Or have you forgotten?"
"Exactly!" said Mother. "Honey, this is your chance." Your chance.
Mother, Father, and Celeste had looked for a cure to her curse for years and years before stumbling upon an old, falling-apart book titled The Immortals Manifesto, hidden in the depths of the town library. It was a book about the Gods, specifically about the staff created with the wood from the Immortals Tree and bonded together with the golden ichor of the Gods. It was the most powerful artifact from the Ancient Times. It was given to the first king of Olumia when he was coronated as a gift from the Gods.
However, a century ago it was almost stolen. And a few decades later, a corrupt king almost used it for evil. After that it was clear that the staff was too precious and too dangerous to be in the hands of mortals, since all mortals were tainted by greed. It was hidden by the Lysterian monks and a map was created to its location. A map that resided in the most secure, most heavily guarded portion of the Olumian palace.
It unfortunately was the only cure to her curse. Except she had no way of getting to it, not without begging to the king for mercy. But he wouldn't help her. King Alastair wasn't exactly known for his generosity and consideration. He'd kill her. There was nothing they could do. Genevieve's fate was doomed from the start.
Until now.
"It'll be impossible to get that map Mother," she snapped. "You know that."
She sighed, "What I know is that my poor daughter will either destroy the kingdom or die-" her voice cracked. "And it's all my fault."
Genevieve almost felt bad. "Mother-"
Mother silenced her, "The only hope is that map. I don't care if it's impossible to get. We have to try, Gen. This is the only option. You've been presented with an opportunity- a stroke of luck. Maybe there's still some more luck waiting for you at the palace, but we have to try."
Genevieve was silent.
"Mother," said Mira softly. She was tugging on her hair, some of which had come loose in the last hour. "Tell her about the crops."
Mother shook her head, but Genevieve stilled. "What do you mean about the crops?" her voice was laced with concern.
"It's not important," assured Mother, shooting a glance at Mira.
"Yes it is," said Mira.
"Mother, what is it?" said Genevieve, sensing something urgent.
Mother looked helplessly at her hands. "It's the weather."
And suddenly she knew. The crops. The weather. "The crops haven't been doing well." It wasn't a question but Mother still nodded.
"How much time do we have before we're penniless," she spat out, a terrible worry growing in her stomach.
"A month," whispered Mother. A month. That was nothing.
Genevieve sat up. "Am I the only one who doesn't know?" She shot an accusatory look at her sister.
"I was eavesdropping when I heard it," said Mira apologetically.
They didn't have crops. The money they had would run out quickly in the harsh winter. They wouldn't be able to pay the taxes. Mother's business had a good clientele, but palm reading was cheap. They'd be pushed out onto the streets. Father and Mother could be arrested. Mira and Genevieve would have to look for jobs. Disaster. That's what this was.
She slid out of bed, and stood up. "I have to go." It was their only hope.
Mother looked sad, "I didn't want you to go because of that."
Genevieve opened her dresser. "I have two days to pack. Mother, can you mend my lace dress?"
"Yes of course dear," said Mother, standing up. "I'll tell your father to sent word that you've accepted." She left the room stiffly, leaving Mira alone with Gen.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she said guiltily.
"It's okay," said Genevieve softly. She couldn't ever be mad at Mira. She was a bony, thin scrap of a girl with wide eyes and had been ever since they found her in a basket as a toddler. She was bawling her eyes out from the corner of the street when Father and a baby Gen had stumbled upon her. Father's caring heart prevented him from leaving someone else to deal with her and from then on Gen had a younger sister. A younger sister she would do anything for.
"I can help you pack," she offered.
Genevieve nodded, trying not to think about what life would be like when she wouldn't see her family every day. Mira, with her pestering, but quiet confidence. Mother with her stiff and practical words, and dislike of fuss. Underneath that Genevieve knew she had a big heart. And Father with his tender heart, and rough hands. He worked devotedly on their small patch of crops every year to feed his family. Her parents did their best. Even with a cursed daughter to take care of.
It would be unbearable without them. She started pulling out clothes and folding them. It would be warmer in the palace, she thought bitterly. The Royal Prophet ate dinner with the royal family. She'd never starve if she was chosen. She'd be eating gourmet, freshly prepared food every day for three meals a day. She desired it and hated it all at once.
And the royal family. Genevieve hated King Alastair with his too high taxes and iron rule. She despised the thought of advising and helping him. Queen Valeria was said to be a regal woman with a lovely laugh and kind eyes, which Genevieve rolled her eyes at the thought of. The royals were all pompous aristocrats and living in the same vicinity with them was not appealing. Their two children- Princess Cora and Prince Liam sounded unpleasant too. Both were top of their class in school, both spoke multiple languages, both were unfairly beautiful in a way only royals could be.
Cora was 15, nearly 16, with silky light brown hair and green eyes. Her skin was smooth and a pale bronze with no blemish in sight. She was literally perfect. Every girl in the kingdom was jealous of her. Gen would be lying if she said she wasn't too. Liam on the other hand was handsome too, with dark brown hair, green eyes, the same bronze unblemished skin, and a sharp jawline. Except, while his sister was all smiles and laughter, Liam was always brooding. Genevieve has never heard him speak on the monthly Royal Addresses shown at the town square on a magical screen. The other members of his family talk all the time, painting a false image of what the kingdom is like and how well they're doing. According to the town newspaper, no one outside of the royal family has ever heard Liam speak. Genevieve didn't know if that was a rumor or not. Liam at 17 was next in line for the throne and if he was anything like his father (and he probably was), he'd be just as unjust of a ruler.
They both had the gift of manipulating light just like the royal family always does. Light was the symbol of Olumia and considered the best gift of them all.
There were so many gifts in Olumia besides light though- water (breathing underwater or manipulating water), growing, fire, flying, shadows, mind-reading, shape shifting, phasing, understanding every language, shrinking, prophethood, invisibility, and more.
Father had the gift of growing, but his gift was mediocre on the scale of gifts (scarce, mediocre, stable, and excellent). It was difficult to compete in the career of farming when there were those blessed with stable or even excellent growing gifts. Mother had the gift of water but since it was mediocre, she could only breathe underwater, not manipulate it.
Mira on the other hand had the gift of dreams- giving, reliving, changing them and more. And her gift was stable, bordering on excellent. It may seem like a useless gift, but Mira's manipulation of Genevieve's dreams are what allow her to sleep each night. When she was younger, she had a nightmare every night. They were dreams of destruction, evil, and terror where she was powerless to stop them. She dreamed of burning the world down, and it terrified her to see how easily she could do it.
She didn't sleep at night, just cowered in her bed, horrified at the prospect of returning to her nightmare world for another night. When sleep sometimes pried her from the safety of being awake, she drowned in the wickedness and hatred of her mind and always woke up screaming, kicking, and bawling like a baby.
Now she slept much more, with boring and sometimes even happy dreams from Mira. If she was chosen as Prophet, she'd have to survive Mira not being there to manipulate her dreams. She'd have to endure the nightmares. Or she could find some sort of sedative from Celeste's to help her. She told Mira her thoughts and she promised to come with her to check.
Genevieve had no idea what level her prophethood was on. She was never tested as a 10 year old. Her parents made an excuse of sickness but really, they wanted to avoid the advanced magic checkers that were installed at the town testing center. She knew her power was more powerful that mediocre, but whether it was just stable or excellent was the important question. The former Royal Prophet had been prophet for over fifty years, and his gift was excellent. The royal family would choose the candidate with the excellent gift compared to the stable gift. She would just have to hope her powers were strong enough. She needed the job.
As for the map. Genevieve buried thoughts of it deep inside her. She told herself that there was no point in trying, there's no way she'd be able to access the Royal Safe even if she were Royal Prophet. There was no point in hoping and wishing for something you couldn't have.
But as always, hope still has a way of needling its way into a person's head. Genevieve just wished she wouldn't be too sad when she was inevitably disappointed. She would be disappointed because her mother was wrong.
Cursed people didn't get lucky.
a/n: Gosh, I really love this story and I hope you love it too. If you do enjoy it, please consider giving a vote or commenting (feedback is greatly appreciated too) because that really helps. Have a great day :)