CHAPTER 3

Janai jumped from the mount and scurried to the door. This was a ritual of hers when they were at the edge of the large courtyard that stretched in front of the modern day structure. Upon getting to the lush grass, Janai removed her shoes and wiggled her toes on the soft, green cushion. Despite her mannerisms, Siira never scolded the young servant for her behavior. She

was

only nine after all, and though Janai had been born to a noble and his whore, Siira treated the girl like her own daughter.

They had first found each other in an abandoned house miles from the capital and close to the World’s Gateway. The queen had ventured there to escape her nagging advisors and was surprised to find a silver-haired baby in the dark, moldy ruins. Her clothes and face were smudged with grime and her blue eyes were infected from the polluted atmosphere. Though she had never wanted children of her own, Siira felt bound to the newborn, drawn to the flowing hair atop her head. She quickly scooped her up and washed her in a nearby river before returning to the palace.

Of course the royal advisors weren’t thrilled. They opted to find the parents and execute them for such cruelty, but the queen had other plans.

“I want to raise her as my own,” she declared one evening during dinner.

The royal family was both disgusted and shocked that she would jeopardize their succession to the throne for a bastard child.

“We won't let you do that. Trash cannot be royalty—not now, not ever,” her older brother proclaimed.

This, of course, sent her into a tizzy.

“How dare an insolent gimp like

you

tell

me

how to live my life? You’re lucky mother allowed you to live past birth, Yllrs. You can’t produce an heir, let alone run a kingdom,” she spat, her voice shook the walls as she scolded him.

The other siblings stayed quiet. They knew that she wouldn’t say anything nicer about them.

“Yllrs, the child is of no threat to you. She’s magicless. The kingdom would never follow rule of a

nóvitaspiall

, no matter how noble they are,” their middle sister, Nerezza slurred as she sloshed more wine into her glass.

Shooting her a hateful glare, Siira snatched the bottle from her sister while the other three giggled in amusement.

“Nóvitaspiall… Nóvitaspiall!” the youngest sister, Bliezl, snickered uncontrollably.

Her fat, round stomach jiggled like a freshly-set blob of Jell-O, causing the others to laugh harder—she could never not giggle during serious matters unless they involved food.

Siira’s grip on the bottle tightened and the green glass soft cracked under the pressure. She spaced out into a quick daydream thinking of all the ways to off her horrid siblings. As she sat back in her chair, the anger in her lavender eyes subsided, and she, too, joined them in laughter.

“You’re right, Nerezza. It was naïve of me to think that a child, less of magic and money, could ever sit atop the throne.”

Yllrs cleared his throat before speaking again.

“My dearest, Siira… We only want the best for the kingdom… a-a-and you, of course.” His stammering made the queen roll her eyes dramatically. “We’d never want you to become the laughing stock of the state. It would cause turmoil and welcome usurpers, far and wide.”

A devious glint set itself within his golden eyes, and his forked tongue slid across his dry lips feverishly. Maneuvering his wheelchair, Yllrs rolled over to his sister and took her hand in his. Leaning over, he whispered, “I may not be able to produce an heir, but the Seer has made it so I can impregnate a noblewoman of great power. He said it works best if their bloodline is similar. What better a line than my sweet, younger sister.”

He licked his lips and stroked her hand. Without a hint of hesitation, Siira pulled away, fighting back anger and a wave of vomit that almost escaped her throat. She stood and moved away quickly, wiping the remnants of his cold, slimy hands from her skin.

“I think it’s time we gave Janai a bit of magic.”

The room fell silent.

“You know that’s forbidden! We’ll be outcast and burned alive in our own courtyard!”

Their eldest brother, Jallundr, had finally broken his silence. His reddened face was hidden mostly by a long, thick beard and shoulder-length hair, both of which were dark brown. His siblings stared at him, wide-eyed and smug-faced. For Jallundr to abandon his usually calm demeanor meant that he wouldn’t put up with such shenanigans either.

“Siira, although you are queen, I cannot allow you to fall into sin.” Flecks of gold twinkled in his sea-green eyes as his gaze bounced from brother to sister, sister to tankard.

Upon noticing an increase in his displeasures, a young servant scurried from the far left corner of the room, and filled his glass with ale before returning to her statue-esque pose at the edge of the room. Jallundr took a hefty gulp, emptying all but a third of the glass. Once again, the woman hurried over and poured the remaining contents of the pitcher into his tankard. However, Jall grabbed her arm and whispered something into her ear before she could turn away. Without a word, she nodded, and left the room.

“You will not be giving Janai any of your magic,” he declared. Siira opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to silence her. “I will not argue further.”

Stroking his selectively-braided beard, he closed his eyes and took another sip of beer. The young queen, who was now internally seething, glowered at her eldest brother. Her mind went blank as she silently cursed.

He looked at the hired help, and then his siblings.

“Leave us.”

His words broke the unbearable silence and Siira’s concentration. It startled her, but the pitter-patter of the servant’s feet soothed her nerves a bit.

“Are you all deaf? I want all of you out!” his voice thundered through the long room, causing his brother, and sisters, to depart, leaving him and Siira alone.

When the others were well outside of hearing range, Jallundr closed the heavy, oak doors, and when he turned around, an enraged Siira was inches from his face.

“Why, in kingdom’s name, must you defy me in front of them? It’s already har—”

Pulling his sister close, he stroked her left cheer with his hand.

“My sweet Firecracker, you won’t get anywhere with cruel words and threats. If you want those idiots to follow suit, you’ll have to guide them. Show them that your words are the only ones they need to hear.”

Siira felt his hands grow hot against her skin. An overwhelming urge to bite him swept over her. Nuzzling against his palm, Siira chomped at Jallundr’s fingers, grazing the top layer of skin, and a trickle of blood ran down his wrist.

He raised a brow, amused by her attempt to ward him off, and husky laugh escaped his throat.

“No matter how much you try, or how hard you bite, I will always be on your side.” He sucked the shallow scrape until it shopped bleeding and ran his fingers through her thick, black hair.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Siira smacked his hand away and stormed off to her room.

* * *

Night had long since fallen and the place lay dark and quiet. Though she was exhausted from the disastrous dinner, Siira couldn’t sleep..

Something’s off…

Usually she’d hear the guards trading off at this hour, but not a single footstep had come through the hallway leading to her chambers.

They’re probably off drinking.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed at the thought, tossing her blankets aside.

Maybe I should visit the fifth world. It should be daytime there. I’m sure I could—

A muffled cry sounded from the other end of the hall. She instantly recognized it as Janai’s.

The nurses will tend to her…

Siira walked towards the large, door-sized, mirror which sat opposite her bed. Its frame was made of wood from the Yggdrasil tree—the sacred tree that housed the World’s Gate—and covered in a thick layer of multi-colored resin. Carved into it were all of the worlds connected to Yggdrasil itself, and painted in gold. To everyone else, the mirror’s glass appeared normal. For Siira, however, the colorful border cradled a perfectly-polished slab of black glass. It was her personal scrying mirror—one which was as illusive as its owner.

Siira stood directly in front of it and traced her middle and ring fingers in a circle on its surface. As the shape began to glow, the soft rustling of leaves emanated from the frame. Hesitating, she waited for the baby’s cries to stop, but they continued.

I should go check on her before I leave.

The cries became increasingly louder and seconds later, the palace alarms sounded. Yelling filled the third floor, prompting Siira to panic. Without a second thought, she raced down the hall to the baby’s room.

The moment she turned the corner, a young guard, no older than twenty, stopped her a few feet from the door.

“Move!”

“I’m sorry, my queen, but I can’t let you in there,” he meekly announced. She could tell that he was new and clearly ill-trained.

“I’ll hang you myself if you don’t let me pass,” she hissed, throwing the entirety of her weight onto him.

She was surprised when she bounced off, landing on the floor with her legs sprawled, and nightgown flipped almost over her bare chest. Fixing her clothing, Siira stared at him, confused and annoyed.

Despite his slim physique, his chest and abdomen were hard as steel. He hadn’t budged an inch from her attempt and she dared not try again.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t m-mean t-to…” the young man stammered as he attempted to help her up before anyone else came around.

At that exact moment, an older guard stepped out of Janai’s room with blood covered boots.

“My queen, there’s been a murder,” the older guard said, nonchalantly.

Siira’s eyes grew large in terror. In the midst of the commotion, she hadn’t noticed that Janai had stopped crying. Everything started to spin; her mouth was dry, her face soaked in tears.

“J-Janai? Where is she? Where is the guard assigned to her room? I’ll have you all killed for treason!”

Mad with rage, Siira pounced to her feet and started to cast a spell on the two men. Heart racing and hands shaking, a lunar bolt shot from her fingertips, but her magic did nothing to the men.

Confused and grief-stricken, Siira blacked out, hitting the floor with a soft thud.