by Terah Edun
“I do,” Mae snapped. “Insist, that is.”
Ember shrugged. “Fine, then,” Ember said in a singsong tone. “I want to know why you’re standing alone in a corridor with your eyes constantly darting over to a shadowy corner like that will do anything to hide the fact the you’re up to something.”
“What could that corner possibly do that’s of interest to me?” Mae said as she stood as tall as she could and tried to look imposing.
That brought a laugh from her sister. “Don’t play with me, Maeryn,” Ember said. “You’re not very good at lying, and my eyesight is just fine.”
Mae felt her heart freeze, and then she groaned. This was why she hated her sister. Nothing was ever let alone. Nothing was private. And Ember would dance like a chicken in a wire trap if she thought she’d caught her younger sister up to no good.
Trying for diplomacy, Mae said, “For once in your life, Ember, let it go.”
Her sister just kept giving her a superior stare, and Mae realized that as long as she appeared to shrink from a confrontation, Ember would feel like she had the upper hand.
So Mae straightened up and stepped forward to glare at the young woman who was practically preening in front of her. Ember, of course, was unfazed by any look of ire directed at her. Instead, she smirked and stared Mae down. And Mae did the same back.
The tempers of the female Darnes line ran hot, and none more so than in the youngest women in the holding. Ember and Mae had never really gotten along, but they hadn’t come to blows, either—yet. Mae was waiting for that day to come, though. They fought over everything, from whose turn it was to do the laundry in the old room to who it was that had stolen the last ripe blueberry from the bowl in the cold storage.
Neither was willing to back down.
Which was why even though Mae’s back was physically against the wall, she wouldn’t give sour-faced Ember the satisfaction of an answer…or turning her in to their parents and the elders for fun. Besides all that, there was a fine point between responsibility and obedience in sibling rivalry, and Ember wasn’t the boss of her.
“Oh, Mae,” Ember said in a mock-sympathetic voice.
“What?” Mae snapped—her temper was already high; she didn’t need any mockery from someone she despised.
Ember rolled her eyes. “Have you ever considered that I might just be trying to aid you?
“Aid me with what? I’m just standing here on my lonesome,” Mae said.
“Now who’s playing the dumb one?” Ember said.
“All right, well, what do you think it is I’m up to?” Mae asked.
She wasn’t expecting Ember to guess, just hoping to run down the morning so her sister would get hungry or summoned and have to leave.
“Something that’ll get you in trouble,” Ember replied with narrowed eyes.
“I’m not always into something, you know,” Mae muttered.
“Yes, you are,” Ember said. “But if it’s to help the girls…this time it could be justified.”
Mae almost choked on her tongue. Ember never, ever concurred with anything she did.
“Well, this is a first,” Mae said. “You agreeing to something I did.”
Ember waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s not go that far, as I still don’t know what it is exactly that you’re doing, but it has to do something with that book in the corner, I’d wager, and it’s illicit if you’re hiding in a back hallway to do it.”
“I’m not hiding,” Mae said, indignant. “I just wanted some privacy.”
“Right,” Ember said.
Slightly offended at her sister’s implications—even worse, she was right—Mae said, “Oh, just piss off.”
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.
“What was that?” Ember asked sharply, her voice rising into a range that irritated Mae, and usually everyone else in hearing distance. It was early morning in a deserted corridor, though, so there was only the two of them to hear it.
Mae was done with being bullied and backed into a proverbial corner.
She raised her head high and said in a strong voice that would have done her family proud, “I said, piss off.”
Ember’s face screwed up into the most revolting frown Mae had ever seen. “Oh, you ungrateful brat.”
Mae blinked, unimpressed. She was just wondering if her older sister would finally get a hint that she was unwanted. Unfortunately, what went into one ear seemed to go directly out the other.
“I am not some cowed milk boy you can command, you sniveling little upstart,” Ember snarled as she snapped the basket clasps open and dropped her light load onto the ground with a thud.
Mae’s stomach flipped. For the first time, she felt she was in hot water. Darnes tempers ran hot, but Ember at least wasn’t one to put up her fists, except for one memorable occasion that involved a traveling carnie and a local girl in tears.
Eyeing her sister askance, Mae said, “Maybe you want to talk it through.”
“Oh ho, now you want to talk it through.”
Mae didn’t have a chance to put a further word in, because Ember swung at her, and Mae, being, well, Mae, ducked and came back with an upswing.
Hard.
The next thing she knew, blood was flying everywhere, and her sister was howling bloody murder to the rafters.
And Mae’s day went from bad to worse as the sound of running feet answered that oh-so-feminine wail.
4
Time slowed and the screams stopped. Mae wished she could go back to before she had swung back and done so fiercely. She didn’t exactly regret giving Ember the one-two she’d been asking for. But now that there was the sound of footsteps heading their way, echoing off the stairwell behind them, and Ember was crouched toward the floor—instinctively cowering—Mae felt the fight go out of her.
It was just like her sister to start something and not finish it. She was always in Mae’s business. Which was why Mae’s first instinct when she saw the wild punch flying toward her was to lean back. Maybe even give Ember the benefit of the doubt to pull that fist, which had come out of nowhere. But Ember didn’t do any of those things. And Mae saw it in her eyes—she had meant every ounce of force in that weak punch. That was until Mae lashed out and served back what she had given and more.
Then, of course, it was tears and wails.
Mae’s lips twitched.
Not in mockery, but in resentment. She let the seconds between wails stretch into eons and her mind pull her back into a scenario where this had happened before.
It wasn’t that Mae was a fighter.
She really wasn’t.
Scuffles. The occasional hair-pulling between sisters.
The one time she’d kicked an oar boy in the nuts and nearly drowned them both…
But a fighter? Her father was pretty easygoing but had made it clear that no daughter of his would be some tomboy in the streets. Even if she did have a temper that had accidentally lit more than one dress on fire. But the seamstress’s daughter and Mae’s conniving cousin had had it coming. Imagine, a Darnes girl aligning themselves with someone else against their own family!
Blood came first, always.
It was what Mae had been taught since she was knee-high.
It was the ethos she lived by.
At least, that was, until blood turned against blood, which had happened when her cousin Amity and the other girl, Raven, had conspired to humiliate Mae by staining her prized gown green with grass juice. Well, Mae had taken an eye for an eye and set their brand-new dresses on fire in return. She had meant to just throw cow shit on them, but somehow she’d mistaken a peat turf for the cow mound while carrying a torch in the dark…and, well, local history was made.
Regardless of a few random fires, Mae had restrained any urge lately to get down and dirty in the muck. But she had been enduring some stressful times this year. They all had.
Today was different. This time it felt like all of that pain and misery of the past few weeks and the other
unpleasantness this year had been compressed until it was all she could think about as she stood alone in this hallway. Then Ember had come along. And the one thing Ember was good at was pushing Mae’s buttons. Usually verbally.
Which was more than enough for her temper to flare. But for that busybody to actually land a blow on her, well, Mae would be a different person before she let that slide. It was one last insult in a day that had been escalating from bad to worse since this morning.
Jaw tightening as she flashed back, Mae saw those fists coming toward her face, and it was as if time slowed and everything that she had been suppressing inside for so long flared up at once.
Ember’s glancing tap wasn’t even that substantive, and Mae saw the panicked regret flash in her sister’s eyes just before her blow hit Mae’s cheek.
But that didn’t make any difference to the id in her mind that immediately switched into reactionary mode. Someone had hit Mae, and darn it, she was going to hit right back.
Mae lashed out with a closed fist and clean right hook.
Her fast jab didn’t glance away or lose steam halfway into the motions.
It was a solid hit.
Of course, she immediately regretted it.
Not because Ember fought back. Even though she had started it, darn it!
Not even necessarily because the sound of feet flying down the hall told Mae this situation was about go down the shithole. But because that was her sister on the floor bleeding, and it was because Mae had put her there.
Shoulders down, Mae said, “Ember, are you all right?”
“What do you think!” Ember howled, keeping her head down, and the red drops spreading on her dress skirt told Mae her sister wasn’t faking being hurt. Her nose—at least, Mae thought it was her nose—was gushing like a well spout.
But the footsteps were coming ever closer, and that made Mae nervous, as Ember’s howls edged down into a mere long-suffering whimper. Still loud enough to alert someone that something was wrong, and with Mae standing over Ember like a guilty burglar, it was easy to see whose fault it was, no matter which of them had started the altercation in the first place.
Mae tried to hush her sister, but by then it was too late. The loud slaps up the steps had stopped, and Mae waited with dread to see who would march around the corner.
The steps were loud enough that it could be her taciturn grandfather. Or worse, her sleep-deprived father. Either could make Mae regret her actions with one searing look, but she would feel especially guilty if she added to her father’s emotional burdens regardless of the circumstances.
So it was with trepidation that Mae waited and waited for that person to materialize at the end of the corridor. She searched the gloom at the turn that marked the hallway descending into the staircase for a scrap of cloth that marked a cloak preceding its owner. Or even the hint of fingertips that would tell her just by the age of his hands who was coming. But her imagination hadn’t quite prepared her for the person who did arrive. Not only because that individual hadn’t exactly been on the top of her mind, but simply because their presence was far less than anyone else in their holding.
Seeing that first glimpse, Mae blinked, and then her eyes had to adjust. Not to any light changes or anything like that. But direction. She went from searching the air for a tall, imposing form near the top of the ceiling to looking lower and lower and lower, until her gaze landed on a tousled head and an expression like a devilish imp, standing not even three feet in height. It was a a far cry from the imposing form she had been expecting to see stride around that corner.
With the revelation, if Mae’s eyes had been wide in her head before, they were nearly falling out of her head now. It was a bit confusing, and Mae wondered for a moment if she should get her eyes checked. But a glance down at her sister, who had stopped whimpering in her surprise, told Mae that Ember was seeing this unexpected apparition as clearly as she was. And vision deficits aside, one thing was abundantly clear to Mae. The emotion rocketing through her head? That was absolute relief.
“Oh, Gareth,” Mae said. “You scared us!”
Ember kicked out and glared from her pained crouch on the floor. Her aim was true, and she barely swiped Mae’s shin before her sister jumped back hastily. Nevertheless, Mae got the message.
Mae rolled her eyes. “You scared me, I meant.”
“Embie and Mae!” The five-year-old, who shouldn’t be anywhere near the old building, screeched in delight.
Gareth immediately began to make his way over as fast as he could. And considering he was wearing his mother’s wooden clogs, it was a fairly impressive pace at that.
Mae watched curiously as he picked up each foot with deliberateness and set it down with a solid thud. Which clearly explained the loud slaps they’d heard coming up the back steps. It wasn’t the noise of an angry adult responding to the yelling. It was that of a precocious child trying to stay upright while walking up steps to a corridor nowhere near where he should be. As he noted the difference between the steps and the flat hallway plane, Gareth corrected his high steps and was soon making his way down the hallway at quite the fast pace.
Still, Mae couldn’t help it. He looked ridiculous with those giant wooden clogs, intended to help his mother avoid dirtying her dress in dank puddles, strapped to his tiny legs, and she began to chuckle.
The little boy didn’t seem to care. He skipped down the hallway until he got to them. He was at the prime height to see Ember’s face up close, and, peering at her like a wheelwright trying to dislodge a nail, he looked fascinated.
Which was a relief. There was already one person crying in this hallway. Mae didn’t need a second.
Looking back and forth between them with a hint of distrust, Gareth said, “What are you two doing?”
“Playing,” Mae said quickly.
“Arguing,” Ember answered. It was the only thing she managed to splutter before her nose opened up with a gusher and she went back to being a spectator.
It didn’t matter, in any case. If there was one thing Gareth knew, it was that anything that approached fighting got you a punishment, no matter what your age was. And he loved it when adults got into trouble, as it was only fair when he was usually the one getting swatted.
“Oh, you’re in trouble now!” he said gleefully.
Mae scoffed at him. “You wouldn’t know trouble if it hit you on the behind, Gareth.”
“I would too!” Gareth cried.
Mae’s mouth twitched as she fought off another laugh. He’d just be even more upset if she did so to his face. “I bet your mother is looking for you.”
“Nooo!” he cried.
“Oh, so she knows you’re running around in her shoes in parts of the holding you shouldn’t be in?” Mae asked.
“No,” grumbled Gareth softly. He knew he had been caught.
“That’s right,” Mae said in an authoritative voice. “So you’re going to tell her exactly what a bad boy you’ve been running off on your own, right?”
“What?” Gareth cried. He clearly didn’t see how they’d gone from Mae getting in trouble to him.
“Well, as your older cousin, it’s my duty to make sure your mom knows that you were here,” Mae said. She wanted to distract him from his focus on her wrongdoing, and she’d found just the ticket, it seemed. The pout he was projecting was just miserable.
“But—” Gareth said.
“No buts. You tell her or I will, and you know she’s going to be angry if she finds out from someone other than you,” Mae said.
She had Gareth right where she wanted him, and she almost felt bad about threatening the kid, but it was an eat-or-be-eaten world. Besides, his mom should know where he’d been.
When Gareth hesitated, Mae pushed him forward a bit. “Now go on, git.”
The toddler with feet and a sense of adventure too big for someone his age sent her a wounded look, but off he went.
But before he did, he said over his shoulder, “I’m still going to tell
!”
“You tell, Gareth Lang Darnes, and I’m make sure your mother finds out just where her missing parasol went!” yelled Mae.
She watched his little form scurrying away, briefly worried that he might get into more mischief on his way to his mother’s side. But there was precious little chance of that. The Darnes holding was surrounded on all sides by a strong wall, and the path he was taking should take him straight toward the sickroom, where Mae knew at least half a dozen of their relatives were loitering in a hallway, hoping and praying. All of whom would helpfully call for her aunt and take those shoes off in one fell swoop.
So she gathered that he would be fine.
Turning back to her sister, who was silent and, Mae figured, in pain, Mae had to figure out what to do. Assist Ember to the healer and confess…or assist her to the healer and run before Mae got the punishment that was surely going to come down on her head.
One was noble and just. The other the cowardly action. But no one had ever accused Mae of being a dumb sucker angling for punishment. Nope, she’d rather run now and face the consequences later.
She grunted as she realized just what she was going to do. Ember needed more help than Mae could give her, and that was that. So Mae eased up on her haunches and held out a hand to Ember to help her stand.
Ember glared at her, but wiped one hand, the less bloodied one, on her apron and held it out for the assist.
They stood and turned wordlessly to follow their younger cousin down the corridor and out the opposite stairs.
It was the fastest way to the healing chambers, which were down a half-floor and connected to the makeshift sickroom they’d put together for the younger girls’ confinement. It did no good, after all, to put them in their rooms far away when all the potential herbs and potions to ease their pain would be stocked in the oldest portion of the Darnes holding.
Desperate to get Ember on her side before they got there, or at least not actively against her, Mae appealed to her sister’s strength.
“How’s it look? Surely it doesn’t hurt all that much?” Mae asked innocently as they walked down the corridor.