A gathering had formed outside the castle’s front entrance. Elodie stood at the front and center, Amayella just to her left, and Bishop on her right. He stood close at her shoulder, well within her periphery, a comfort in an uncertain moment.
A large, ornate carriage rolled through the front gate across the courtyard, and pulled up in front of the group. A small group of servants stepped forward, unloading the luggage from the cart and opening the door.
Out stepped Eleanore, the girls’ eldest aunt. She descended the steps and placed her feet confidently on the cobblestones, adjusting her skirts and smoothing out her bodice.
After a moment, she lifted her eyes and fixed them first on Elodie, and then on Amayella. Before either of the girls could react, Eleanore had stepped forward and wrapped them both into a big, tight hug, swaying back and forth and humming in contentment.
“Oh, how you’ve both grown! You’re almost as tall as I am now! Look at you! My, you’re so grown-up, I can’t stand it!” She gushed, kissing each of them on the top of the head and taking turns studying them from an arm’s length away.
“It’s good to see you, Auntie,” Amayella said awkwardly, allowing herself a hesitant smile.
“Oh, darling, it’s good to see you too,” Eleanore replied, her high-pitched voice radiating light and joy. Suddenly it dropped and her large, red smile turned downward. “I’m terribly sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral, it was simply so unexpected, I had no way of getting here in time. I hope my visiting now will make up for it?”
“It’s alright.” Elodie replied this time. “You’re right. At least you’re here, now. We’re happy to have you.”
Auntie Eleanore shivered and wrapped her arms around both girls, leading the way up the steps towards the front door.
“It’s chilly out here! Let’s get you both inside before either of you catch cold,” she fretted. “There’s so much to catch up about. How have you girls been? I’m sure it’s been so hard.”
Elodie nodded, but Amayella seemed not to respond in any noticeable way. Eleanore turned and glanced back, catching the attention of one of the maids following the party inside, ready to collect coats and handbags and place them safely in the coat closet.
“Could I have some tea?”
“Yes, ma’am. What kind?”
“I’d love some black tea with cream and sugar,” Eleanore replied, and looked down at the girls under her arms. “How does that sound, girls?”
“I’d like some, too,” Amayella said, sliding smoothly out from her aunt’s grip, and standing aside, her shoulders stiff.
“I prefer mint tea,” Elodie replied. “Tell them to bring both kinds.”
An evening of catching up began. Elodie led the way into a comfortable sitting room where the fire was already lit and being stoked by an elderly maid. The woman offered a collection of comfortable blankets, some fur and some knitted. Elodie took one, laying it over her lap as she took a seat on a large plush armchair front and center beside the fireplace. Auntie Eleanore took up a seat beside Amayella on a loveseat, the pair sharing a fur blanket over their laps.
Eleanore led the conversation. There was an ease about her that slowly began to leak out into the air and into the girls, and soon the trio was laughing and sharing stories. It was in the middle of an anecdote Amayella was telling, about heading into the city for a specific book that she couldn’t find in the library, that Bishop appeared in the doorway, and, all at once, Elodie remembered how very abnormal her life had become.
She let out a heavy breath, and relaxed, recognizing the comfort of having her aunt come to talk about old stories she used to find so terribly boring. It felt as if it were a holiday. Perhaps, she could pretend her mother was in the other room, her father upstairs with his advisors, drinking and chatting. She could make-believe that none of the last month had even happened. It had all been a terrible, terrible dream.
Bishop smiled at her from the doorway. She grinned back at him. Amayella took notice of the exchange and looked back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of him as he turned and walked away down the hall.
“Bishop,” she hissed.
Eleanore looked over her shoulder at the empty doorway. “Who?”
“Bishop Callex,” Elodie said, smiling pointedly at Amayella. “My Prime Advisor. You don’t know him? I think you’d get along splendidly.”
Amayella gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. The elderly maid who’d offered the blankets entered pushing a cart with two steaming teapots, three little teacups, a bowl of sugar, and a matching porcelain pitcher full of cream.
She tapped the lid of the smaller teapot, a pattern of thin blue lines, almost floral, wrapped around it.
“This one is the mint for her Highness,” she explained. She tapped the other one, a plain cream-yellow porcelain teapot. “And this here is the black tea for the Lady Eleanore and Princess Amayella.”
“Thank you,” Elodie said, waving a hand to dismiss her back to her regular duties. “It smells perfect.”
Amayella drank her tea plain, with nothing added, but Eleanore used most of the cream and sugar for hers, leaving just enough for Elodie to have a cup exactly as she liked it.
“Bishop Callex, you said?” Eleanore asked, returning to the previous discussion. “I think I remember, your mother told me about him. Hired by your father, if my memory serves.”
“Yes,” Elodie replied, smiling brightly.
“What’s he like?”
“He’s the worst,” Amayella muttered under her breath.
“He’s the best,” Elodie said confidently.
Eleanore looked between the girls, frowning in confusion. She turned her attention to Amayella, a concerned look on her face. “What’s the matter with him?”
Never one to withhold her opinion, Amayella blurted it out plainly.
“He’s a big fat liar,” she declared.
“What!” Elodie shouted. “He’s never lied to me!”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Amayella bit. “He lies to you more than anyone!”
“Prove it!” Elodie demanded, suddenly standing up. “Give me one example!”
“I can think of so many, but fine. That ridiculous story he tells all the time, about the boar he hunted! All by himself? A boar that size? You really believe that? Are you that much of a fool?”
“Now, girls…” Eleanore began, setting her teacup down and holding up a hand to try to soften the air.
“The story’s real! I’ve seen the scars!” Elodie proclaimed. “He was nearly gutted but he killed it with his own bare hands!”
“And then I suppose he ate it, tusks and hooves and all?”
Seeing red, the Queen took a step towards her younger sister. Eleanore’s teacup shattered against the floor; she was on her feet and between the two of them in an instant, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Girls!” She gasped, placing her hands on Elodie’s shoulders. “Now you’ve both gone too far. Elodie, you mustn’t ever lay your hands on your sister, it’s unlike a lady. And Amayella, why do you further provoke her?”
Elodie plunked herself back into her seat with a huff, and crossed her arms tightly.
“You two have never fought like this,” Eleanore continued, her voice softening. “I know you care about each other. Your parents would never have wanted you to be at odds.”
Amayella sighed, looking down at the floor. She glanced remorsefully over at the fire, watching Elodie out of her periphery. In truth, she didn’t enjoy upsetting her sister. Sometimes she didn’t know why she said the things she did.
The sisters stared at each other for a silent moment as Eleanore carefully stepped over the shattered teacup and took her seat. She didn’t relax into the back of the couch as she did before, instead sitting up straight, just in case she needed to stand up again.
The air of camaraderie that had come with Auntie Eleanore’s arrival had disappeared, but the tension of the previous moment had also disappeared.
Amayella offered her sister a tepid but apologetic smile, her fingers fidgeting on the handle of her teacup. It had gotten cold while they were talking.
“Do you remember when we used to sneak into the kitchens at night?” She asked, her voice faltering, as if the memory were almost too much to bear. “I’d practice my sorcery on lighting the candles, and you’d boil us a pot of tea, and we’d make-believe we were from another world… I miss those nights, Elodie. A lot.”
Elodie looked up from the carpet, studying her sister. She noticed, for the first time, that Amayella seemed like she might burst into tears at any moment. A twinge of regret pulled at Elodie’s heart. She hadn’t meant to make her sister so upset. There had been a time, not too long ago, where she’d have defended Amayella almost as staunchly as she now defended Bishop.
Amayella’s apologetic smile remained, but her eyes shimmered hopefully. An extension of an olive branch, a pleading to return to that closeness. Part of Elodie knew that Amayella really didn’t like fighting with her. She didn’t know why exactly they fought so viciously, or when exactly it had begun, or even what exactly provoked them both. Perhaps it was just the grief, weighing them both down.
“Me, too,” she said, almost a whisper, almost for herself. “I was always so jealous that you could light the candles and I couldn’t.”
“It feels like a lifetime ago,” Amayella continued. “Like a whole different world… It’s like we’ve been woken from a pleasant dream to a terrible nightmare, isn’t it?”
They shared a look of unified grief, and Elodie nodded slowly. Eleanore pursed her lips, relieved.
As if on cue, sensing that the argument had reached its conclusion, Bishop appeared once again in the doorway, and stepped into the room. He wore a more casual outfit than his usual long, flowing robe. A pair of dark trousers, a white dress shirt, and an ornately embroidered, maroon-colored vest. He walked to the back of the couch where Amayella and Eleanore sat, and rested his hands on the top.
Elodie found herself smiling at first, relieved to have him nearby again. But his expression dampened her relief – An expression of darkness, disapproval and concern.
“What’s wrong, Bishop?” She asked.
Amayella glanced up and behind her, grunting as she realized who it was standing there, and stood up, setting her teacup down on the tray. She was gone, disappeared out the far doorway before Eleanore could say a word.
“They believe they’ve found the thief,” he began, his voice low. “They want to know what you’d like done with her.”
“Thief?” Eleanore asked.225Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk7SGQ2RZ1I
