“I’ve just heard the wonderful news,” Carina claps her hands, her wide, bell sleeves sliding back to reveal gold bracelets that clink together musically. “I’ve had the maids setting up your chambers since your arrival and I’m excited for you to finally see your room. Are you ready?”
Andromeda shoots a quick look in Daegan’s direction before answering, “Yes, I’m ready to get out of here.”
Carina laughs and reaches for Andromeda’s hand. Andromeda lets her lead her from the infirmary like a small child and together Carina and Andromeda and Daegan settle into the ferryman’s vessel. Clasping her hands in hers, Carina chatters about this thing and that, telling Andromeda the history of the Perscesian royal family and the architect who constructed the palace. Andromeda tries to keep track of everything Carina is telling her but she feels Daegan’s eyes boring into the back of her head from where he sits at the ferryman’s feet.
When they reach their destination the ferryman leaps from the vessel and helps Carina step from the boat to the floor as her skirts swish and cause ripples in the waterway below. Daegan hops out and turns to offer Andromeda his hand but the ferryman insists on helping her under Carina’s watchful gaze. Daegan rolls his eyes behind the ferryman’s back.
“It’s just through these doors,” Carina explains as she leads Andromeda to a set of blue marble doors. “Oh, I can’t wait for you to see. I know you’ll love it.”
Andromeda doubts Carina knows her well enough to know what she will and won’t like but she keeps quiet as Carina throws the doors wide and leads Andromeda inside. Andromeda feels the tug on her wrist as Carina attempts to show her inside but she remains rooted to the spot as she takes in the room before her.
Large blue and pink sea glass light fixtures dangle from the ceiling lit with glowing, flameless blue orbs. A massive driftwood bed takes up a quarter of the far wall, blankets and draperies of the richest teal decorate the bed. A round stool sits in the middle of the room cushioned in blue and silver fabric and beneath it a massive rug, similar to those that Lostero are known for. Stacks of books teeter aside the stool. A door is spaced down the wall from the bed and on the next wall a massive wardrobe and silver vanity set are placed against the wall with huge coral displays creeping up the wall in between. On the opposite wall is a large table filled with bottles and metal contraptions Andromeda has never seen before. A second table like the one in Carina’s strategy room sits bare, its’ top an image of waves crashing upon a shore.
“Will it do?” Carina asks nervously.
“Will it do?” Andromeda echoes in amazement. “Not in my entire life have I ever lived in such splendor.”
“I’m pleased that you like it,” Carina grins. “The wardrobe has been filled with dresses and clothing from the royal tailor and I’ve selected some volumes of books on Perscesia’s history that might interest you. They are a stark contrast to what you’ve been taught topside. On that wall is a perfume organ. When you have the time, it would be in your best interest to create a signature scent — it is a custom among our people, especially the nobles. And you’ve already seen my sighting table in the strategy room. I thought you’d like one of your own to see glimpses of the people you left behind topside.”
“I-" Andromeda’s voice chokes with emotion. “Thank you.”
Carina continues, “Now that you are feeling better I’d like to hold a ball in celebration of your return. It will be held in conjunction of the Brykmaker’s reinstatement as the Royal Hunters in a weeks’ time. Also, your sisters have been dying to meet you.”
“My sisters,” Andromeda raises an eyebrow questioningly.
“Oh yes,” Carina grins. “Did I fail to mention them before? I could have sworn I - oh well, you have four younger sisters and they’ve been eager to meet you ever since your return.”
“I see,” Andromeda frowns, her brow crinkling. Four younger sisters? She doesn’t know what to think. It’s always just been her and Midge until now.
“I can see this is a lot for you to take in,” Carina says gently as she places a hand on Andromeda’s forearm. “I’ll let you look around and tell the girls to give you some time.”
“Thank you.” Andromeda’s smile is thin but it seems to please Carina.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Carina gathers her skirts and places a quick peck on Andromeda’s cheek before gliding through the open doors. Two guards wait outside and close the doors behind her.
“Sisters?” Andromeda hisses at Daegan. “I have sisters you didn’t tell me about? What else didn’t you tell me?”
Daegan scratches his chin. “I’ve never actually met the younger princesses, but there are indeed four of them.”
“Daegan!” Andromeda crosses her arms over her chest. “Seriously? You dropped me blind into a situation where I’m supposed to smile and be happy and learn to live in a way that is completely foreign to me against my will and you refuse to let me leave!”
“I’m not refusing to let you leave,” Daegan crosses his own arms and snorts derisively. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just merely pointed out that it’s safer here, your real home, than in Vacantia where you will be hunted like a criminal.”
“Meanwhile my father and sister’s lives are probably being torn apart by a woman who has already betrayed them enough and my sister doesn’t even know if her only child is alive or dead.”
“So you keep reminding me,” Daegan stares Andromeda down. “But you are forgetting that for eighteen long, dark years a mother went on thinking that her first born child was lost to her forever. And she managed to successfully rule over a kingdom for half of those years.”
“Midge isn’t as strong as Carina,” Andromeda glares at Daegan. “She must be falling apart right now.”
“Once this is all smoothed over and Carina gives her blessing, I will personally escort you to see your adoptive sister,” Daegan offers an olive branch. “Is that acceptable, Highness?”
Andromeda exhales her frustrations, “It will have to be.”
❖
Octavia
Standing on a cliff’s edge thirty feet above the Warrior camp Octavia could see every inch of the grounds and the inky sea beyond. She shivered as the West wind splattered icy raindrops across her face. As the West and east winds battled for supremacy the torrent of rain blew one direction then the other and the dark purple sky above indicated the storm was far from done.
In the sea beyond the shore lightning criss-crossed the horizon and thunder rumbled like an angry growl in Octavia’s ears.
She’d stood there long enough. Thane wasn’t coming after her. Octavia doubted he’d even realized she’d left yet. Octavia had waited for hours, until Thane finally extinguished the candles in his dwelling and went to bed, before she made her move. Quiet as a mouse inside a temple Octavia toed her way into Thane’s sleeping quarters and left the note she’d written earlier in the curve of his left hand. He would feel it when his hand curled into a fist as Octavia knew it had a habit to do when Thane dreamed.
In the eyes of the law Octavia would be seen as a deserter, a crime punishable by dismemberment and the limbs of the traitor thrown into the sea to be devoured by the beasts of the sea. In Octavia’s eyes, however, she saw her leaving as taking the future of Vacantia into her own hands. War was coming, of that Octavia was sure. And whether Thane was willing to admit it or not, they would need allies to fight against the usurper Queen Lyra. Help that Octavia would hopefully find with the people she was born of, the Starborns who lived high in the sky.
Turning her back on the fortress that had been her home for most of her life, Octavia’s feet slipped around as she climbed from the sloping cliff onto sturdier ground. Her boots squelched as the ground turned from dirt to mud in the downpour. Through the trees Octavia hiked, heading toward the mountains in the distance.
All of her life, when people looked at Octavia and beheld the smattering of milk-white diamond shaped dots peppering the right side of her face from her hairline to her j
aw, connecting by seemingly random zig-zagging lines of blue, pink, and white they saw a disfigurement. A curse from a Waterborn witch, perhaps. But the markings were neither a scar nor a curse, but a map to lead her home someday.
As a baby Octavia had been left on the steps of the Vacantian temple honoring her mother goddess, Adventrya, forced to live a life among the Landborn until — and only when - she would absolutely need her people and the markings on her face would bring her home. Growing up Octavia had seen her exile as a curse to be looked at with scorn and mistrust from the people around her, until the day she ended up at the Watierai Warrior camp. She figured this must be how the Mistborn girl, Andromeda, had felt when she found out her true heritage. But unlike Andromeda, Octavia made the camp her home. The warriors were her brothers and sisters, her mother and father. She’d been accepted right off, most not even noticing the marks on her face for they themselves bore scars from battles and skirmishes against the Mistborn. Over the years Octavia honed her body into a weapon and waited, always waited for the day to come that situations would send her to the skies above to rally her people.
The southernmost dot on Octavia’s jaw burned hot in contrast to the rest of her skin and the jagged northern line showed her the way to the next point on the map on her face, taking her north and east as she ascended through the foothills and onto the base of the mountains.
Sweat beaded along Octavia’s spine and mingles with the rainwater soaking her clothing and skin as her breath becomes ragged from the increasing altitude. Above, the storm still rages on and Octavia feels persecuted as lightning follows in her wake. She pictures the father god, Zarouk sending down bolt after bolt trying to pin her in place and prevent her from ascending to the land of the Starborn. One such bolt strikes a mighty tree on the mountainside and in the blink of an eye the tree is engulfed in flame, the wood crackling and the bark peeling away from the heat of the fire and the core of the tree blackening as it dies.
Octavia watches it for mere seconds in horror before pushing herself onward at an increased pace. She doesn’t stop even when her strength begins to waver and her ribcage aches from forcing oxygen in and out of her lungs.
As the sky lightens from an angry purple to a moody gray Octavia reaches the last point on the celestial map on her face. The rain continues but the thunder and lightning have stopped for the moment.
Bending at the waist and holding her sides Octavia fights to regain her breath as she takes in the world beneath her. She stands impossibly high at the top of a peak, the nearest mountain top in the range a half a league away. Beneath the peak the world has blurred away into mist, keeping Octavia from getting an accurate idea of how far she’s climbed.
Absently Octavia reaches for the waterskin at her side and twists open the top only to find the skin empty, the water having evaporated into the ether. Groaning through parched lips she holds the skin out before her and allows it to fill with rainwater, the purest water in Esternwhorl until it reaches the ground. Once the skin is filled Octavia greedily sucks the water down and holds it out to refill. By the third time she goes to refill Octavia’s thirst is quenched and her breathing has evened out. The world is silent around her, and even if she strains to hear Octavia is unable to hear even the sounds of nature around her.
Unsure where to go from here, sure that she would have received some sign of how to proceed once she reached the last coordinate, Octavia gingerly traces the map from her jaw to her hairline. The skin is no longer burning hot, the bumps of the map appear to have smoothed against the rest of her flesh.
When her fingers reach the last point the ground begins to rumble beneath Octavia, throwing off her balance and sending her flying onto her back on the unforgiving rock. Octavia screams as she scrambles to find purchase, fearing that one wrong move will send her careening from the peak and her stomach clenches at the thought of the fall she would endure before eventually splattering to the ground.
Her breath quickens in fear and her heart pounds wildly but before Octavia can give herself over to her panic she finds herself rising, unsupported to the clouds above. She feels weightless and buoyant but the sensation does nothing to assuage her nerves.
The clouds part around her as a kingdom rises around her. Roots and dirt connected to nothing but air come to a sharp point, gradually increasing in size until it’s as wide across as the entire island of Vacantia. Greenery sprouts from the top of the dirt, lush knee-high grasses and exotic trees whose branches are heavy with leaves of every shade of green imaginable and heavy, round fruits of more colors than Octavia has ever seen before down below in Vacantia. The forces that have dragged her from the peaks of Vacantia and through the clouds now throw her into the grasses at the edge of the floating isle. As she forces herself into a sitting position, the clouds thin to reveal a stone castle that extends nearly from one side of the rounded isle to the other. Crystalized spires skewer the skies, the tops disappearing into another layer of cloud cover.
“Holy god’s blood,” Octavia whispers as she takes in the scene before her.
“Welcome to the kingdom of Kirsi, Octavia,” the words seem whispered on the wind coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
“Who is there?” Octavia’s voice quivers, “Show yourself.”
A figure emerges from the castle gates. At first the figure is too blurred for Octavia to make out any distinguishing details, as if the creature moving toward her is cloaked in shadows. As it draws nearer Octavia realizes that it is a trio of women walking toward her. The women are identical, each with hair so blonde it glows white in the light shining down on the isle and flowing midnight blue robes that glide across the ground as they move as one.
“We are the three,” the women speak as one, their voices musical and melodic. “We foresaw your arrival.”
❖
Andromeda
Daegan watched Andromeda prowl the bedroom for hours, the spacious chamber feeling like a tiny prison cell with all of the air sucked out under his unbreakable gaze. Andromeda looked through the books beside the stool as he leaned against the door watching, she sifted through the bevy of dresses jammed into the wardrobe, she sniffed the clear liquids in little glass bottles in the perfume organ and all the while Andromeda could feel Daegan’s eyes on her, ever vigilant.
When Andromeda tires of pacing the room she lays down on the plush bed and before she knows it she falls asleep.
❖
“Shhh,” an eager voice hisses near Andromeda’s ear. The sound is accompanied by feminine giggles. The first voice attempts to sound stern as she whispers, “You’ll wake her up, you useless tarts.”
“She sleeps a lot,” a second, slightly younger voice whispers back.
“What happened to her face?” a third voice inquires.
Slowly Andromeda opens her eyes and finds four eager faces smiling down at her. These girls, these dark-haired beauties with golden eyes and skin the same hue as Andromeda’s own, must be her sisters.
“Hello?” Andromeda whispers, suddenly feeling shy.
“You’re awake,” the youngest looking of the four exclaims happily. “We’ve been waiting here for hours.”
“Astraea!” the girl next to her nudges her to silence her.
Andromeda sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes as the girls move back and stake claim at the foot of the bed.
“You’re my… sisters.” Andromeda murmurs slowly, a statement rather than a question.
“Listen to that accent!” the sole red-haired girl in the group’s eyes widen. “She must have grown up in the Vacantian Mountains. They sound like that there, you know.”
“How would you know?” The oldest looking of the four snaps. “You’ve never been past the shoreline, and even then Mother keeps five guards watching you at all times.”
“It’s just what I’ve heard,” the redhead sniffs. Looking back at Andromeda, her eyes brighten again. “You’re Andromeda, right? I’m Charon and this stick in the mud,” she gestures to the old
er girl at her side, “is Ceti. Don’t mind her, she’s been the oldest for so long she’s forgotten how to be nice.”
“That’s not true,” Ceti pouts looking suddenly younger.
“I’m Antila,” the girl closest to Andromeda’s left side introduces herself. She closely resembles Carina and her dark, wavy hair is pinned back with shells. A plump, pink starfish wraps around her bicep like an armband. “And this is Astraea,” she pats the knee of the young girl sitting next to her, “she’s the baby of the family.”
“I’m not a baby,” Astraea protests. “I’m fourteen!”
“Andromeda,” Andromeda says, introducing herself.
“We know,” Charon nods enthusiastically. “We’ve heard all about you.”
Andromeda sits up and glances about the room, only relaxing once she spots Daegan who shrugs his shoulders and leans agains the wall, hands clasped behind his back.
“Were you really burned by the Watierai Warriors?” Antila’s voice is laced with curiosity as her wide eyes search Andromeda’s face.
Self-consciously Andromeda reaches up and touches the scars on her face, “They burned a mask to my face.”
“Oh my!” Charon sounds faint as she touches her own cheek. “I can’t even imagine!”
Andromeda looks away as her eyes moisten at the memory.
“I guess this means you’re not the heir anymore, Ceti,” Astraea teases.
“Thank the mother goddess,” Ceti sounds relieved, not angered by the demotion. “I won’t have to spend all that time studying with the royal tutors anymore. Learning political intrigue and history is so boring.”
“You can’t mean,” Andromeda starts, horrified. “Surely I’m not to be queen someday am I?”
“Oh yes,” Ceti nods vigorously. “As the oldest, you are the true heir to the throne which will pass to you on your twenty-third birthday. I’m only seventeen, a year younger than you so I’m second in line to the throne now that you have returned.”
“And the rest of you?” Andromeda asks hopefully as she looks at her three other sisters.
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