Knife of Rebellion: Battles of Eyenwar, Book 1

Chapter 1- The Designation

I would like to designate this to mischiefmanaged1113: Thank you so so much for all your kind words and encouragement! It helps keep me going :D Love you Cass!

"Springling!"

This is the third time my mother has called me. I relish it, knowing that in just a few short hours she will never call me that again. It is a name only for children. Today, I am a woman. Every month, if any member of the caravan has turned fifteen, we hold a Designation lead by our spirit bridge. The ceremony shows which life path or trade has been designed as fate by the spirits. Every citizen in Torrain participates. My birthday was a few days ago, on August 21st. An auspicious date, to be sure. Yet still to be overshadowed by their birthday.

My mother and older sister dressed me in shimmering cloth, blue and gold. A gold band supporting dangling blue stones rested upon my brow. I look into the old looking glass mother totes around with us in the caravan. For once in my life I feel like a beautiful young woman, but I know it won't last. Still, I can appreciate the raven black ringlets that fall past my shoulder blades and the smooth skin the colour of sandalwood. My face is a bit too wide for true beauty, but it does have a pleasingly strong jawline and cheekbones. My personal favourite attribute are my eyes, the colour of the irises seem as fickle as my moods. When I am sad or disappointed they turn a watery blue. When I feel angry the grow stormy grey. When I am excited, like now, they transform into two clear emeralds. I like the intensity it provides, especially under my permanently brooding eyebrows. I think they give me an air of mystery.

"Are you ready Springling?" My mother whispers softly behind me.

"You should get out of the habit of calling me Springling, Mada." As the Gypsy word for Mother rolls off my tongue, I see my mother's eyes well with tears.

She sighs, "You don't understand yet how hard it is to watch your child become grown."

"Don't worry," I smile at her, "You still have Shasta."

Almost as if by magic, my little brother leans through the curtain of our caravan. His wide seven-year-old eyes sparkle with mischief.

"The Yuvana sent me to remind you not to be late. She said if you are, the spirits gave me permission to hide a bug in your bedroll." My brother was practically giggling at the prospect.

Mother laughed along, the tears gone. "I suppose we better go then Adelina, it's never good to keep the Spirits waiting."

I nod and gather the long skirts cinched at my hips. The gold and midnight blue folds cascade to the ground, and with each step the teasing outline of a shapely leg peaks through. My shirt is all lace patterns, exposing bare shoulders and hugging tight to my frame to show off my generous figure and the curve of my waist. The ensemble distracts from my thickly muscled arms and broad shoulders, things that come in handy when I spar with the warriors but certainly detract from gentle femininity. My mother lowers the gauzy veil over my face before she helps me exit the back of the wagon. The grass feels cool and comforting under my bare feet. The jingle of my anklets and bangles softly announce my presence to the rest of the camp.

Every member of our camp, young and old, stands in a circle around the glade we chose for our settlement in the early spring. Now it is late August and already some of the trees have begun to change colour, but for now sun dapples the grass and a warm wind blows from the east.

I feel some 60 pairs of eyes on me as I enter the ring of people. I hear gasps and whispers and I am pleased by the reaction. It is good to know that I am not the only one who thinks I am beautiful tonight.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the circle is a woman on a small dias, who I know to be in her mid forties, but she always seem ageless. She is covered head to toe in white, the colour of the spirits.