Page 4 of Riftborne
It wasn’t easy to avoid the wandering curiosity of strangers when you looked like me. People had always been able to sense myotherness. There were Aossí with unique attributes, sure. I just happened to bear a particularly unsettling combination of them. My icy hair did me no favors. Each weightless curl danced in the air like static had taken me over. Though I’d tied it up successfully this morning, the stress of the day had unleashed it in full glory. Now I couldn’t even tuck it behind the points of my ears.
My one redeeming quality could have been my opalescent eyes, had they not been shrouded in perpetual shadows. The darkness fanned out, waging war on my pale skin. I was well aware I looked like a raging insomniac. However, rest had no effect on my ghastly appearance, leaving me to assume it was simply a case of terribly unlucky genetics.
A gentle breeze drifted through the Grove, kissing my skin with a refreshing coolness and interrupting my thoughts.
The further I got from the commotion, the more my senses came to life. I stopped at a patch of trees up the hill. It provided a decent vantage point, allowing for a view of the lights and dancing bodies below.
The General shifted effortlessly between partners.
For another brief instant, his eyes locked with mine, and my breath caught in my lungs. It’s like he was seeking me out.
Was he?
There was that same intensity in his stare that I couldn’t quite place–something dark and… intoxicating. His gaze continued to burn through me, and my body began to feel weightless. I tore my eyes away from his and stumbled back a few paces, the party disappearing from view.
The sinking feeling of discomfort crept into my bones. I didn’t like being seen. I didn’t wanthimto see me, of all people. The thought of a General’s attention on me made me want to evaporate.
The breeze picked up, and the most mesmerizing scent filled my nose - lily of the valley. My mind nearly melted at the smell. I hadn’t found a wild batch of them in ages, and traders seldom hadthem in their inventories. With there being no way to accurately recreate the floral profile, it remained an expensive and evasive luxury.
Perhaps a quick forage would calm me down.
I followed the aroma into the tree line, hunting for the white belled flowers in the dim moonlight. Perhaps a silver-lining to an otherwise emotionally crippling evening?
A subtle note turned me left, pulling me several paces before I found a patch on the forest floor.
Slipping off my gloves, I knelt to gather the bunches, tying them together with a piece of twine before tucking them into the folded sachet of my Apothecary belt. I patted down the compartments, making sure all my tools were indeed still secure. I felt my tiny notebooks, quills, bottles, and vials, all where they were supposed to be.
As I stood, I could hear the last vestiges of a song coming to end. Osta would be looking for me. It was time to have this drink, say my goodbyes, and finally end this curse of a day.
A part of me, one I’m ashamed of, thought briefly about wandering further into the safety of the woods, escaping to the anonymity of Luminaria’s streets, finding our apartment, and launching into bed…
Osta would hate me.
You can have one drink.
I headed in the direction of the party, dodging fallen branches, and groaned. I hadn’t realized how far I’d made it into the forest.
Just as I saw the edge of the wood, a chill ran over my skin. I heard the sounds of laughing and crunching twigs headed straight for me.Oh Esprithe.
I was in no condition to run into anyone out here. I practically glowed in the dark.Great thinking Fia, walking off by yourself in the middle of the night.
I clenched my fists.
Just breathe.
I tried to move out of their path. The sounds of their movement were getting louder as they advanced, and it was then that I recognized the shrill voice, complaining about someone wearing the same dress as her, and a second voice joining in to affirm.
Bekha and Jordaan.
It had been years since I’d seen them, but I would recognize those voices anywhere. Memories flooded back as their shrieks echoed through the trees.
Their mother was Lady Nessa Fairbanks, the woman who ran Luminaria’s House of Unity, the foster home where Osta and I grew up alongside some of the other Riftborne children. Every ounce of cruelty that lived within that woman had been passed down to her daughters three-fold. The Patriarch of the family had died in the frontlines of the uprising, and Lady Fairbanks never let us forget it. It was as if we had killed him with our own hands.
That was our first taste of prejudice. It seemed like a whole other lifetime now, growing up in that place. We had all left years ago, back before thetrueterrors of this world were revealed to us. Back before my friends were murdered.
I was eighteen when I watched them drown beneath the currents of the Sprithe River. And though five years had passed, I’d been stuck in a constant state of fear ever since.
I shoved the thought away and dug my nails into my palms. Heat was already spanning the length of my body, simmering just under my skin. Waiting. And this train of thought was a dangerous one.
