Catina never had a reason to hate her strange appearance. Her golden hair and deep brown eyes- eyes that could be mistaken for red- had never caused her any misfortune. Until one night, the great conqueror arrived- a man who wanted the world for him...
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One night I sat at our table. I held my hair up, looking at the color and wondering why I looked so different from everyone else.
Papa had paused at my question. His eyes became thoughtful and far away as he spoke, "you look like your mother."
"What was her name?" I had always pestered papa about her, but he would close himself off and say only the barest of words.
He hesitates now. I see the debate in his mind. But I wanted to know. I wanted to know more about the woman whom I looked like.
"Deirdre," he said. There was a reverence in his tone. Like he cradled the name in his arms and held it close- kept it close. Didn't want to let go.
"Deirdre..." I look up. I can see that papa does not want any more questions. He looks uncomfortable. I wonder what life would have been like if mother had survived when giving birth to me. If papa would be more like a father- with warmth in his eyes instead of constant teaching.
"And my name?"
He is starting to move away. He pushes up from his chair, placing his back to me as he stands in front of his work table.
"What about your name?"
"What does it mean? Why did you choose it?"
"Catina," he sighs, turning around. "Stop your questions. I don't have the answers you want to hear."
"Please," I was caught in the idea of her. How they met. What she liked. What she was like.
"Stop," his voice is weak, arm held up in protest to stop any more words. "Stop. And don't ask me about her again."
Though the evening had descended and the candles were low, I could still make out the expression papa held. In his eyes I could see the shadows of haunted memories. Awe and pain.
Mother had been something above. Something he did not think he should touch.
Maybe that had been my path to life. That I had been born from something celestial.
Something regal and divine.
Maybe I should have known at that moment that I was more.
I was more.
* * *
They had grown. The tribe before us was no longer that. It was a hoard. An army. A city unto itself that had the ability to move from place to place.
There was no permanent structure of thrones- no stairs that ascended into something great, but only to a single point.
No. Their steps continued. Up and up. Disappearing behind, not able to fall down.
"Blessed Shiana..." the Elephant King's voice is low so I am the only one who can hear it. I can feel the tension in his body.
