Idle Chatter

When Marie stepped through the front door, she exchanged a polite greeting with the head maid before swiftly confirming that her father and brother were not yet home. She passed the old woman without offering any explanations about her evening. The household staff had grown accustomed to Marie's secretive nature, knowing better than to pry as she ascended the stairs of their manor. 

Behind the closed and locked door of her room, she finally removed her iron bracelet, placing it delicately on her vanity. The exposed inner surface bore crudely engraved sigils. 

With a sigh of relief, she instantly felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. Removing the charm was like releasing a tether, allowing her to breathe freely. She lit a candle and gently plucked the flame from the wick, letting it dance in her palm, releasing some of her pent-up mana. 

After a brief moment of fascination with the flickering fire, she returned the small flame to the candle wick. Then, she settled at the petite writing desk she had inherited from her mother and unlocked a hidden compartment. She began to retrieve stacks of papers covered in intricate sigils, cones of incense, and dried herbs in no particular order.

In the heart of the night, while the world slumbered, Marie's life took on an otherworldly hue. Alone in her dimly lit chamber, she delved into the arcane arts, practicing enchantments with an intensity that belied her tender years. Her slender fingers danced across the sigil-marked parchment with the grace of a maestro, weaving threads of mystic energy into intricate patterns amidst plumes of fragrant incense smoke. 

Tonight's focus was on a series of demon-warding spells borrowed from the Pharmakon's limited library of folk enchantments. She was practicing 'the Old Ways,' as Lara would put it. 

She had hoped to practice until she grew tired, but as morning approached sleep still eluded her. With a sigh of resignation, she abandoned her magical endeavors and sought solace in the library. The pale moonlight filtered through the windows, casting ethereal patterns on the books that lined the shelves. She chose a self-indulgent novel, a temporary escape from the weight of her secrets.

As the first light of morning crept over the horizon, Marie's solitude was shattered by the arrival of her disheveled brother, Thomas. His unruly hair and wrinkled naval uniform hinted at a night spent carousing. Marie's gaze swept over him, taking in his disarrayed appearance. 

His brown mop of hair framed the blue eyes he shared with Marie and their mother, the light dusting of freckles scattered across his slightly crooked nose bridge popped against his light olive complexion. 

Marie peeked over her book from her position curled up on their father's leather chair, looking amused. 

"Your trysts with Miss Bridger are becoming more frequent. Should I expect a marriage announcement soon?" 

"Why Marie," he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the bookshelf closest to her. "I'm surprised to see you awake. I thought you'd be exhausted after dancing the night away with your darling prince."

For emphasis, Thomas pushed himself off of the shelf and poorly mimicked a waltz, making kissing sounds as he did so. 

Marie normally would have retorted with something equally as offensive about his own love life. However, she returned his look with a stormy expression, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on her mind. A part of her had longed for the kind of night her brother described, even if she never dared to indulge in such desires. 

"Well, I've decided to turn over a new leaf," she responded sardonically. "Instead of spending my nights gallivanting, I retired early to learn some useful household skills. I'm going to make myself into a proper future princess." There was a barely detectible bitterness in her tone. 

Her brother balked at her and reached forward to snatch the book from her hands. 

"Liar," he said, inspecting the title of the book, 'Taming the Cold Duke of the North.' He laughed out loud.

"You've been productive this morning," his voice dripped with sarcasm. 

Marie held back a sharp retort, deciding to change the subject instead. She suddenly felt sick of all this romance talk. 

"Father hasn't been home in three days," she said. This was a common enough occurrence now that she and Thomas were old enough to look after themselves, but it still worried her each time. "And you've been gone more frequently as well."

"It's nothing for you to worry about," Thomas dismissed her concerns, though a hint of unease flickered in his eyes.

"So it's something for somebody to worry about, then?"

"You're too sharp for your own good," he sighed, moving to sit in the chair across from her. "There's been some chaos lately. My unit has been tasked with training the newest mage conscriptions, and there's a lot of them."

"Why does our military need more magicians? There hasn't been a war in ten years," Marie remarked with a scoff. 

"True," he responded, although his short answer was an indication that he was not at liberty to share anything else.

This information was concerning. In the event that a war was pending, the new conscription was a troubling change in policy. She held no doubt that the military was looking for new recruits among gifted commoners and probably pulling numbers from the countless unregistered magicians thrown in jail. 

She wondered what kind of classified information they were withholding from her brother, a naval captain. Then, she wondered what their general father knew. 

A heavy, awkward silence passed between the siblings. Thomas watched her as she dragged her eyes across an open page of her book to mimic reading, unsure of what else to say. 

There was a time when conversation between Marie and Thomas flowed effortlessly, but as the burden of Marie's secrets grew heavier, the silences between them became more frequent.

She felt as if she were keeping Thomas at arm's length for his own protection. But the emotional distance left her feeling isolated from the one person who could truly understand the pain of longing for a homeland they barely knew.

"Did you at least enjoy yourself last night?" Thomas asked after some contemplation. He sounded concerned. 

Marie never enjoyed social obligations much, and she especially detested going alone. But his question hinted at something he had observed. Marie loathed that he often had a sixth sense about her emotions.

"Sure," she lied. There was no need for her to share the details of her night. The rumor mill would eventually get back to him about her encounter with the emperor, and then she would get an earful about being more respectful in the presence of authority. She wasn't in the mood to hear his lecturing. 

"Are you planning to attend the anniversary ball?" she asked him, though she'd prefer to leave him no choice at all. The upcoming ball marked the one-year anniversary of Edward's coronation. If Thomas were by her side, the emperor might be less likely to target her again. At least, she hoped that would be the case.

"I might go just for the drama," he drawled. "I heard the emperor plans to announce his fiancée there." 

"The poor girl," she scoffed. Her brother hissed and tapped her shoulder, gently chiding her.

"He's still our emperor; show some respect," Thomas responded, though a hint of sarcasm tinged his words.

Marie felt the sting of his loyalty, even if it was only because the empire exalted their family after their exile from Arveld. 

Thomas continued to look at her expectantly. She knew he was waiting for her to ask a follow-up question.

"Fine, I'll bite," Marie conceded. "Who is it?"

"I'm glad you asked," Thomas said with a smug grin, clearly enjoying the role of informant. "I happened to see a procession from the embassy of Daren heading into the capital this morning."

"That's not unusual given what you told me about conscription. It could be a diplomatic meeting."

"Perhaps," Thomas offered a mischievous grin, "But I caught a glimpse of a straw-haired young woman in the lead car. It could only be one person."

"You think the emperor plans to marry Princess Ophelia?" Marie looked surprised. The princess was known for her pragmatism and strength, making her an excellent choice for empress, but perhaps not the best match for an emperor who craved submission.

"Why not? He's under immense pressure to secure the bloodline because of Prince Ezra—oh, don't give me that look. Despite your fondness for him, you're not oblivious to politics, Marie."

Marie hadn't realized she was giving him an odd look. Thomas's mention of Ezra reminded her that she had serious contemplation to do regarding his proposal, or it would continue to haunt her thoughts. She quickly rose, closing her book and placing it on a nearby table.

"Well, that's enough gossip for one morning. I need some rest."

"Aw, Marie!" Thomas protested, playfully grabbing the sleeve of her chemise. 

"I'm sure old Martha would love to hear what you have to say instead," Marie swatted his hand away as she bid him goodbye and left the library. 

Returning to her room, she locked the door once more and leaned against the frame, suddenly overcome by exhaustion.