The Second Sister (The Amendyr Series)

by Magdon, Rae D.

  “Ellie, you look terrible!” Prince Brendan hurried forward, offering my imitator his arm. “Where is Lady Luciana?”

  “With Belladonna.” I noticed that Luciana could not take all of the bitterness out of my voice as she spoke Belladonna's name. I had whispered Belle's name in daydreams, rolled it in an invitation, offered it as a joyful greeting, sobbed it into her shoulder as she made love to me, but I had never used it so venomously. Luciana's name was the one my voice hated.

  The prince studied Luciana's magical face. “You look much thinner and paler than last night. Maybe you should go back to bed after all...” I smiled coldly. Luciana had done her job too well. The prince had seen me fresh and healthy for three nights in a row, even though my face had been contorted with grief the last time that he had looked.

  “I am feeling much better now,” Luciana said with my voice, still holding onto Prince Brendan's arm. “I see that you have my slipper. I was afraid I had lost it.”

  The prince knelt, reaching for her left foot. It was bare, and he slid the slipper onto it easily. Even the feet looked like mine—or, at least, like they had been before the scars and swelling. The slippers had pinched my feet terribly the night before thanks to my swollen ankle, but the left shoe was slightly loose on Luciana.

  Giving him a charming smile that I never would have imagined on my own face, she thanked him. Jessith pawed urgently at my leg. “Ellie! Do something!”

  I gripped the right slipper so tightly that the blood drained from my hand. “Like what?”

  Before Jessith could reply, two things happened that sent the hall into chaos. The double front doors swung open, and I saw Cate nearly fall over as a swarm of songbirds flew into the entrance hall, all of them heading straight for Luciana. She screamed as a hundred tiny beaks tore at her skin, her hair, and the fabric of her clothes. At the same time, Lady Kingsclere appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing one of her nicest blue dresses and looking perfectly sane. She clutched the banister and stopped, her mouth falling open as she stared, horror struck, at Luciana. The servants were in a similar state of mute terror. Half of them had noticed Lady Kingsclere and tore their eyes away from the birds every few seconds to study her.

  I stared down at Jessith, who was watching the entire scene and looking very pleased with herself. “You didn't!”

  “I most certainly did. I'm glad Cate let them in. Otherwise, they might have flown down the chimneys. No, go! You have a chain to break.”

  Jessith's voice was drowned out as all of the birds began to sing in verse. “Turn and peep! Turn and peep! There's blood within the shoe. The shoe, it is too small for her, the true bride waits for you!” Confused, I looked at the slipper on Luciana's left foot. Rivulets of blood were streaming out of the shoe, and she was screaming. It took a second look for me to realize that she was changing before my eyes, shedding her magical disguise and returning to her natural shape. The edges of the shoe had cut through the flesh of her foot as it grew to its normal size.

  “Enough!” I shouted, brandishing the right slipper like a weapon as I stormed out from behind the stone doorway. At the sight of me, the birds stopped attacking Luciana and flocked to me, singing excitedly as they flew over my outstretched hand. One of them, a fat sparrow, dropped something silver into the slipper. I recognized it immediately: the sorcerer's chain. The chain had been broken again by dozens of sharp beaks, but the pendant was still pulsing with magical light. I picked it up, fingering the eye. It did not burn me this time. I took the thin metal discs in between my fingers and snapped them in half.

  A great wind rushed up from the floor, and a high-pitched scream echoed through the hall. Magic rolled over my skin, and the force nearly shook my bones apart. With a sharp cracking sound, the two halves of the pendant disintegrated, leaving my hands filled with a fine white powder. After the wind was gone, the birds continued singing and circling the shoe, flying into one another and scattering feathers everywhere. “Turn and peep! Turn and peep! No blood is in the shoe! The shoe is not too small for her, the true brid—”

  “No! Stop singing,” I yelled. The birds stopped. “Prince Brendan, arrest my sister for treason.”

  To his credit, Prince Brendan regained his composure quickly. He approached Luciana, who had fallen to the floor in the middle of her skirts. She was wearing her dress again instead of the nightgown, and her body was her own. Kneeling beside her, he gripped her shoulder firmly with one hand, and her arm with the other. Luciana hung limply in his grip. As she turned toward me, I saw why she did not fight him. Both of her eyes, the cold eyes that I hated so well, had been pecked and scratched out. Horrible, bloody chunks of flesh were all that remained.

  Prince Brendan noticed her face at the same time I did. He paled and nearly fell over, but did not let go. “Ellie! How are you...there? Never mind. Heavens, get someone here...No one should be left with their eyes hanging out.”

  “It would serve her right.” All of us turned to Lady Kingsclere, who had reached the bottom of the stairs. “She has kept me in agony for months. I only just came back to myself a few hours ago.” That made sense, I thought. Luciana had not had time to re-cast whatever spell she had used on her mother.

  “No,” another voice said from nearby. All of us turned back in the other direction, where Cate was standing proudly despite her tousled red curls and the feather caught near her ear. “No,” she repeated, walking forward. Luciana twitched, life returning to her body as she writhed in Prince Brendan's grip. He held her steady. “That death is too kind for her. Let her live. And I hope that it is the most wretched life she can possibly imagine.”

  “If anyone deserves to decide, it's you,” I said. “Brendan.” He lowered his eyes to me. “As a personal favor, let my friend Cate choose Luciana's punishment.”

  “Of course. But will you explain this whole mess to me first?”

  “Yes, I will. And thank you.”

  I looked at Cate, expecting to see anger, joy, or triumph on her face. Instead, her expression was frighteningly blank. She leaned close, so only Prince Brendan and I heard what she whispered in Luciana's ear. “The last word you utter on this earth will be my name. I will be listening to you scream it when the wolf kills you.”

  Cate turned to me, and I watched her dilated eyes snap shut as she, too, collapsed to the stone floor.

  CHAPTER 8

  AFTER THE BIRDS were sent away and Cate was tucked into bed, I entertained Brendan in the kitchen. It did not take long to explain the details. With Seria's prince as a witness against her, there was no question of Luciana's guilt. At least something had gone right in this affair.

  “I wish the situation had not escalated this far,” Brendan told me, looking sympathetic. I was rather proud of the fact that the prince was sitting in my kitchen. I thought of the kitchen as mine—ours, including Mam, Cate, and Sarah—after all the work that we had done in it.

  “So do I. But what could we tell you? We did warn Cieran, but accusing Luciana outright without proof would have been useless.”

  Brendan gave a tired laugh. “There was nothing more you could have done, considering my father’s attitudes toward magic, but I can’t help feeling a little like bait.”

  “You were bait. I suppose you have a right to be upset.” I should have been relieved that the prince was safe and Luciana was no longer a threat, but my thoughts were still with Belle in her upstairs room, unconscious, hovering in the twilight world between life and death.

  Brendan must have seen my distraction. He placed his hand over mine. “I think I already know your answer after last night, but I am going to ask anyway. Ellie, I am quite taken with you. Seeing the way you handled this affair has only made me admire you more. Would you permit me to court you? I know you have no parents to ask.”

  My heart sank to my shoes. “I am honored by your interest, Your Grace, but...I already belong to someone.” I would belong to Belle for the rest of my life and after, even if she did not wake from her magically induced
sleep.

  He gave a slightly disappointed but understanding nod of his head and removed his large hand from mine. In many ways, he did remind me of Belle. They were both tall, strong, kind, and full of interesting conversation. “I thought so. Go to her, Ellie. That is where you should be right now. I will get statements from the rest of the household and give you some time.”

  For a moment, my chest felt heavy and thick with fear. Prince Brendan knew. How had he figured it out? But his smile was reassuring, if slightly forced, and I knew he would not do anything to separate me from Belle. With a lighter heart, I gave Prince Brendan a quick, grateful hug. He returned it, holding on for a moment, and then let me go. “Thank you,” I called over my shoulder as I hurried to the place where my heart was waiting for me.

  My throat hardened and my chest ached as I opened the door to Belle's room. The sleek, strong creature that had been my lover was weak as a kitten, shivering even though she was buried deep beneath her covers. Only her thin, yellow face remained visible.

  I touched her forehead, remembering how my mother had rested her cool hands on my face whenever I was ill as a child. This time, I needed to be caretaker. “Belle, I'm here. I will always be here.” Her eyes remained fastened shut. I kissed her forehead, the gray shadows beneath the sharp cheekbones, her dry lips. I wanted to collapse onto the bed next to her and sob myself empty, but I stayed sitting. Before, Belle had always been my strength. This time, I needed to be the strong one.

  A noise at the door startled me and I raised my head. Lady Kingsclere stood at the door, her hair tucked into a neat bun. “How is she?” she whispered, joining me beside the bed. As I had done moments before, she rested her hand on Belladonna's forehead. She looked like she had just come out of the sickbed herself, but her tight, tired shoulders were still held proudly.

  I stroked Belladonna's cheek with my own hand. “Not well. She needs time.” Both of us were silent for a long stretch, joined by our fear and longing.

  “Prince Brendan told me everything. I knew Luciana wanted her inheritance, but I never imagined...and now, my daughter...” She gazed sadly at Belladonna. Lady Kingsclere was coming back in to herself.

  Belladonna's breathing seemed easier with both of us watching over her, and her shivering stopped. “I'm not ready to let her go.” My voice sounded small and terrified to my own ears. “Not after I just found her.”

  Lady Kingsclere stepped over to the window. She pulled aside the dark drapes, allowing pale sunlight into the room. “I doubt that she is ready to let you go either,” she said, staring out of the window and across the yellow fields.

  I knew then that Lady Kingsclere knew. And I was not afraid. “I love her more than life. Where she goes, I will follow.”

  Lady Kingsclere turned to me, looking much older and much wiser than I felt. “You are a stronger woman than I am. If you lose her, wait. You will find her. When I lost my husband, I lost myself. But I am not ready for death yet. I am content to wait and enjoy living for both of us. Besides...” She gave me a sly look from the corner of her eye. “Baxstresse needs an heir, and I need grandchildren from you two.”

  I blushed. Getting children the traditional way was out of the question, but I was sure that would not stop Belle from trying if…when…she recovered. “I love children, but if you expect me, or Belle, to share each other with some man, then I will have to refuse.

  “Of course not,” said our mother. I could think of her as my mother now. Not a stepmother, but a mother-in-law; not a replacement, but an addition. It was a much more comfortable relationship.

  ***

  Five slow days passed. I remained sluggish, unmoved by constant appeals to leave Belladonna. I would not be forced from the room. Sarah, Cate, Mam, and even Lady Kingsclere tried to tempt me with food, but I ate two or three mouthfuls and pushed the plates away. I washed my arms and face at the small basin in the corner, but that was my only concession.

  Jessith remained in the room with me, only rarely slipping through the partially open doorway to check on the rest of the house. She spent most of the time sleeping, but her warm weight on my lap grounded me when I thought I would spiral out of control. Occasionally, she curled around Belladonna's feet or pressed her cold nose to one of the limp, pale hands.

  “She won't die,” Jessith told me.

  “How do you know?” I asked her, desperate for any kind of reassurance.

  “She does not smell like death. She does not look like death. But she is very sick.”

  I disagreed. I could smell death in the room, an old, hard smell that burned my eyes. It hid in the dark, almost black wood of the grandfather clock that called out the hour, waiting through the seconds. And Belladonna certainly looked like death, with her yellow skin and the sharp planes of her face and shoulders jutting out like spikes. I felt the urge to cover a mirror with black cloth, but could not bring myself to do it. That would be admitting Belle's condition was worsening.

  However, Jessith was not prone to lying, and animals often saw things that humans did not. I accepted her opinion and tried to believe in it. My faith in the world and in goodness had been shaken. Not my mother's death, not my father's death, not even Luciana's torture had prepared me for this emptiness and despair. Surely, no light could exist in the world if Belladonna's candle burnt itself out.

  Night was the worst. The cold, pale starlight from the window cast ghoulish yellow faces on the walls, mouths stretched open into black gaping holes. My loose hair made shadow paintings over the tossed covers as I hung my head over the bed, listening for the slow, shallow breaths that meant Belladonna had not crossed into death. Her face and forehead were warm under my hands, but her fingers were ice cold when I held them. I tried to give her water, but she would not take it. I whispered to her that she needed to come back to me, that I was waiting for her, that Luciana was gone. Her imprisonment and sentence were meaningless now.

  At seven in the morning by the ticking clock, Belle opened her eyes at last. Their jewel blue was pale, faded and washed out, but she was alive. She could not see for the first minute, but I held her hand so tightly that she whispered my name. “Ellie...”

  I pressed kisses over her face, making small sounds between them. “Belle...” Her yellow paper skin flushed with red warmth under my lips. I kissed the life back into her.

  She only stayed awake for a few moments, long enough to accept the cup that I pressed against her lips and remind me that she loved me. Her eyes blinked, then lowered. Sleep reclaimed her, and it was no longer a death sleep, but a healing rest. Her breathing was easy and deep. Now that the stiff layer of frost constricting my chest had begun to melt, so was mine.

  Belle regained consciousness again later that evening. This time, she was much more alert and her robin's egg eyes had regained some of their brightness. “Darling,” she greeted me, lifting her hand since she could not pull me into her arms. I pulled her into mine instead, kissing her hair. “How long has it been?”

  “Six days.” She felt so good in my arms that I wanted to cry. “Luciana is in prison. We are all safe.” Belle tried to lift herself up and prop her weight on a pillow, but I eased her back down. “I promise to tell you about it later. Everything is all right.” Now that Belle was awake, looking at me, speaking to me, everything really was all right.

  After a few more soft questions, “Is mother all right? Have you eaten?” Belle allowed me to wash her with a cold cloth and change her nightgown. She only submitted to the care because I was her lover. Since the constant fear of death had faded, my attraction to her could come forward again. Lying naked before me, Belle was the most magnificent creature in the world. She was thin as a branch and she had lost color, but her wiry muscle had not disappeared. To me, she was just as lovely as ever.

  I was too tired to do anything more than to enjoy looking, and Belle was in no condition for physical activity. Instead, I washed her and helped comb her hair, thanking God, Fate, or whatever had spared my lover with each stroke. “T
hat feels good,” Belle murmured, sounding like a purring Jessith.

  With pink in her skin and looking considerably more comfortable, Belle returned to her bed. I joined her, curling up beside her and leaving the covers off so we could enjoy the warm spring air.

  CHAPTER 9

  OF COURSE, NEWS of Luciana's arrest, my recovery, Belle's illness, and the Prince's involvement spread like a pox through the upper classes. Baxstresse became a madhouse. Everybody and their second cousins had to come see what had happened, offer insincere condolences and strongly worded opinions, and generally act as nuisances.

  Thankfully, Lady Kingsclere's health had improved rapidly, and she was more than well enough to entertain guests. I learned a great deal by watching her gently deflect inquiries and politely rebuff the busybodies. I found myself playing lady of the house again instead of helping Mam, Sarah, and Cate in the kitchen. To my great satisfaction, one of Lady Kingsclere's first acts after returning to her station was to reimburse the pay discrepancy for all of the Baxstresse servants and dismiss Jamison on my advice. I also convinced her to begin looking at blueprints for extending the servants' quarters.

  Although my evenings were spent at hastily thrown together dinners with the nobles, I spent my mornings hard at work. Cooking and cleaning, I had discovered, became habits that were not easily dismissed.

  My nights were spent in Belle's room. Everyone knew, but no one thought anything of it. I acted the doting sister, not wanting to leave Belle alone at night in case she took ill again. Although she and I had shared several pleasant kisses and soft touches, I was hesitant to make love with her while she was still recovering, especially since we had so many guests.

  On one of these nights, around a week-and-a-half into Belle's recovery, I stood outside the bedroom, preparing to greet her. When I reached for the knob, I heard two voices float underneath the crack in the door. “...crawling back now that Luciana's gone, but another part of me remembers how, when I was small, you held my hand and walked me outside to see the horses...” Belladonna’s voice sounded tight, as though she held tears in her throat. Absorbed in the conversation, I held my left hand suspended over the doorknob.