Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Daughters, Chapter 3 - Eloise

Eloise sat at a black stone table with a glossy surface like a dark mirror. Her father sat at the other end. She couldn't bring herself to look him directly in his eyes. Instead, she focused on his hands. They were bony and withered- nowhere near as strong as she remembered them being. She caught his face, upside down in his reflection. His cheeks were gaunt. He wore a braided teal cord ornamented with a copper coin of blessing across his forehead. When did he become superstitious?

They were still in the mortuary, but an older woman was serving them as if they were in a fine dining room. She brought plates with cornmeal patties topped with smoky red peppers and grilled pheasant. She poured them glasses of aromatic spiced wine. Eloise knew the aroma well, but only as an adult did she enjoy the taste.

Aunt Clarella was seated to her right while Revelyn and Bryn were seated to her left. Bryn's attention was drifting from his meal to the embalmed corpses visible beyond arched doorways. He seemed uncomfortable with the notion of enjoying his meal with a side of death.

"It's best to pretend they're sleeping," said Clarella, catching his gaze. She sighed disapprovingly. "This is no way to entertain guests. I'm sorry we cannot host you in the great hall."

"Why is that?" asked Eloise.

"Untrusted ears," replied Clarella. "The man who seeks to disempower your father has extensive influence."

Eloise sipped her wine but gestured with her eyes to the old servent.

"We can trust Magda," said Clarella. "She's been a cook for our family since before you were born."

Magda shook in her old age. Her eyes were clouded with cataracts. She was a picture of harmlessness, yet Eloise remained suspicious. She studied her worn flat-soled shoes peeking out from her yellow skirt. They were very clean for a servent.

"Who is this enemy of yours, Lord Glass?" she heard Revelyn ask.

Eloise's father leaned forward in his chair. He was more than happy to discuss the business at hand. It was a more tangible topic than his daughter's distress.

"He is called Vesper Slarve, a merchant who has made his living peddling opiates," said Taran. "Lordship in Hedgemont is not like your ruling class in Iron Fen. A lord can be challenged at any time by another for the right to rule. If there's enough support behind the challenger, I must respond."

"Vesper has such support," added Clarella. "He has used his network of associates to tell a tale of your father's growing weakness."

"How is the challenge for power decided?" asked Revelyn.

Eloise felt some judgment from her aunt and father, an air of disappointment that she hadn't educated her lover in the traditions of Hedgemont. Eloise raised her brows and locked eyes with Clarella. She chewed a chunk of pheasant unapologetically.

"Traditionally, the contest is decided by a barbaric contest of arms," said Clarella. "But in recent memory, the transfer of power has been peaceful; a ceremonial exchange between friendly parties. Eloise watched a few as a child, if she remembers."

Of course, Eloise remembered. Her father took lordship from her own grandfather when she was seven. They both wore their fanciest armors. Their combat was like an elegant dance.

"So you and this Vesper will fight?" asked Revelyn.

Taran laughed crudely. "Vesper is old and fat. He will not fight. He has a champion who will fight in his place, the best money or bribery can buy. But none who have faced an Iron Fen trained warrior."

Eloise put her head in her hands. There it was, the reason her father welcomed her to Hedgemont. She was to be his stand-in now that he was too frail to fight his own battles.