The Chimera

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Rose Garden

Autumn swirls slowly down its drain, making way for winter.

On an early December morning, two months since they had first come to the citadel, Fallon idles in the kitchen to keep his brother company. With Araceli and Skander both sick from the sudden harshness of the weather, Rian has been left as the primary worker in the kitchen. It's no small task for a household of fifteen people (often sixteen, with the addition of Jasper).

Fallon dutifully follows his brother's instructions on gathering bowls and ingredients for their breakfast porridge. He shudders through his tasks, every limb feeling ice-pricked. Dalmar is a proficient knitter, and by Edeline's request had made a thick sweater for her youngest brother. Even though Fallon wears it now, the cold temperature still pierces him through.

Rian must be just as chilled, but he's determined to remain as stoic as he always is while he rinses the oats. Over the kitchen fire, a large pot of milk comes to a gentle boil. Rian stirs the grains into it while Fallon tucks his hands under his arms in an attempt to stay warm. At such a cold, early hour, everything feels simultaneously sharp in sensation but dulled in color.

Into this world of muted grays, browns, and blues, comes his bright sister.

Giada has left the red-gold mess of her hair out of its usual long braid, instead letting it fall loosely around her neck and down her back as another barrier against the icy temperature. "Need any help, Rian?" she says through a yawn.

Fallon can count on one hand the number of people that Giada is willing to sacrifice her sleep for, and it's true that half of those people are her brothers. She doesn't do a decent job of masking her disorientation though, swaying on the spot with weary, unfocused eyes.

Rian asks her to stir the cooking oats every few minutes while he and Fallon gather the nutmeg, cinnamon, honey, and raisins that will flavor the porridge once it's thickened.

Engrossed in this task, Fallon takes a second to look over at his sister, who is dutifully stirring the oats with a solemn, yet faraway, expression. He wonders how conscious she is right now.

The amusement of watching her takes a turn into fear when her sleepy grip loses its hold on the stirring spoon while pulling it out of the pot. Still not completely awake and aware, Giada's hand thoughtlessly dives to catch hold of it again, momentarily plunging itself downward into the kitchen fire.

"Giada!" Fallon cries out, almost dropping a jar of dried apples as he darts forward to his sister. She's removed her hand from the fire, but now looks at it in keen wonder. All her drowsiness has taken flight.

Fallon looks at her hand, ready to make a dash for his brown witch's book, or for Dalmar, who would surely know some salve for burns.

But her hand is fine.

It is unscathed, unharmed, untouched by the fire. "It didn't even hurt," she says, prodding at it.

Fallon's mind reels at this miracle, but Rian sees it quickly for what it is. He looks at his sister's hand: unnaturally strong, and unmarred by flame.

Dragon, he thinks.

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Nakoma doesn't think the other people staying in this miserable place even notice she's here.

Somehow, they all seem to have known one another beforehand, putting her at a disadvantage. The only person Nakoma had met before coming to the citadel was that peacock of a man, Taihei. He had come to Beledon's alchemy department one day to have his bottle of silver sand examined, but had left after a brief conversation with her.