Book 1: Brutality

Anhedonia

2

"We Anhedonians have adapted to long periods between good news. Our national animal is the hope camel. We have no national bird. All the birds are dead." - Colson Whitehead

~Trigger Warning~

My insides shrivel at the very idea. I look at the floor and curtsy silently. He waves me off with an exasperated sigh as I accompany Naela down the hallway to the parlour where the dressmaker was waiting.

Naela gives me one of her gentle smiles. "He's right, you know," she says. "The Prince's attention is a good thing, truly. Think of the wealth and influence you could attain if everyone knew you had his favour!"

She means the wealth she and Myriil could attain from selling me like a prized pig at the market, but I keep that to myself, like I always have and look away.

My older sister, Keya, is already in the parlour being gowned in a glorious creation of sunset-pink. "Hi, Xara, back from Daddy dearests' latest lecture?"

Naela frowns at her. "Respect, Keya."

Keya rolls her eyes. "Right."

Despite being Myriil's biological daughter, or maybe because of it, she's always hated him the most. There's none of the confusion or ambiguity Ari and I experience. She just hates him, plain and simple — for killing our parents and kidnapping us. She hates Faerie too and has stated numerous times that she intends to leave, the minute she can persuade me and Ari that it's a good idea, and never come back.

But, we've tried living in Earth and, like fish trying to live in the sky like birds, it's awful. I have no place in the human world and Keya's right when she says I'll never truly have a place here, Barathalion or no Barathalion. So, why should I speak? What do I have to say?

I go behind a screen, where our maid, Tinuiel, helps me with the dress for the ball tomorrow night — a shining, silken blue dream of a gown, embroidered with silver starlight. Once, its beauty would have soothed me, pleased me. Now, I feel nothing. There's actually a word for this condition, anhedonia, the inability to feel pleasure in anything. Strange that such a lovely word describes such an awful state.

Lifting up the hem, I step back carefully and stand like a statue on a stool while the seamstress bustles around me, making the final adjustments. She's a little, old, hob woman, with wrinkled skin and beetle black eyes. Her fingers flash, faster and defter than any human's.

That makes me wonder if she's so deft among her spinners, the great spiders that all weavers and seamstresses keep as their silk is the best fixative for the light and shadow. The million shades and colours of nature that faeries draw out, bind and spin onto the silk to make a thread.

Naela stands back, watching critically as the seamstress makes the last few stitches. "That will do," she says at last, when I stand in a resplendent array. She looks me up and down. "You will make a fine showing tomorrow night, Xara. Even more so if you speak to someone," she couldn't resist adding.

"Oh, leave her alone." Keya, who was already fidgeting and yearning to get her fancy dress off, said. "She shouldn't have to speak if she doesn't want to." She cranes her neck to look out the window. "What's going on?"

I lean over to look too and I see there's some kind of commotion going on outside. I hear the voice of the head of Myriil's knights raised in respectful greeting and I have an idea of who's coming even before he steps into view. As I expected, it's Prince Barathalion. The sight of him makes my stomach tighten.

"Oh!" Naela rushes about. "Get back in your normal clothes, girls, and do something about your hair, Keya. Then come to the lesser parlour to greet him with absolutely no rudeness Keya!"

At least Keya's perennial lack of manners overshadows my silence. Not that Barathalion seems to mind. My guts knot themselves as I step off the stool.

Back in my normal afternoon dress, Tinuiel runs a brush through my hair. "Smile, Miss Xara," she instructs gently. "You want to look nice for the prince, don't you?"

No, I really don't. But, I don't say anything and just give her a quick, grimacing smile as I resign myself to my fate. Once dressed, I head to the lesser parlour to stand with Keya and Naela. There's a rush of movement and Ari comes running in, in her own dress, still looking flushed and sweaty from the practice field.

As always, I'm amazed by how we identical twins can look so different. Her eyes sparkle and she's muscular while I'm thinner and every time I look in the mirror, my eyes look a little more deader than the last time I see them. I'm also much more paler and my face is losing more expression with every passing day.

"Oh, good, he's not here yet," Ari says briskly. Although, we can hear Myriil greeting the Prince out in the hall. "I wonder why he keeps dropping in like this."

She's right, it is becoming a pattern. Not everyday, but often enough, Barathalion visits Myriil's stronghold, perhaps for dinner, but more often in the afternoon. It's never anything important, he just sits and talks about inconsequential topics such as all the helpless animals he'd killed this week.

He always insists on me being present. Always, he would find a reason why I should be there. Even though I never say a word, somehow, his visit just isn't complete without me in his presence. And he spends most of this time staring at me, like how a cat stares at a mouse.

The door finally opens and Barathalion comes in, followed closely by Myriil. We women all curtsy and even though I keep my head down, I feel his gaze on me.

"Good afternoon, ladies, it's a pleasure to see you again." His voice, even at its warmest, still has hints of frost in it.

~Fun Fact~

Flowers like Viagra.

If you liked the chapter, vote and leave a comment ^-^