Sisters Three (Completed)

8. Brenna (1/2)

10 Years On...

The ballroom on the second floor of the west wing had been aired out and tarted up for the celebration of Great Uncle Roma's eightieth birthday. The hallways were washed and shined, and curtains covered the moldering downstairs windows. Servants were hired in from the village to repair damage to the old ballroom, and to clear the passage of time from chandeliers and arched windows. Shutters were folded back and sunshine once again met the white and black checkered marble of the floor. The gold gilding of the woodwork and the deep red of the curtains and bandstand fairly glittered when the servants had finished sweeping and polishing and scrubbing. Everything smelled of lemons and lavender and the chill air of early spring wafted in delightful mouthfuls through the open windows.

Brenna had taken the whole week to watch the conversion, mostly in the way, but in awe of the way a dingy place could be made to look so grand. Paintings were hauled in from other rooms in the house to cover the faded areas of the wallpaper. Furniture was hired from a shop in the big town two days' ride away, and was set up as if it always belonged there. Armchairs and ottomans and tables for those who wished to play cards in the corner.

By the night of the celebration, Brenna could almost imagine the house back to the splendor it had once held. It even held its old king, Great Uncle Roma, in a place of honor just in front of the bandstand. He grinned up toothlessly at the quartet as they played the songs of his youth. Aunt Perta held onto his hand and tapped her toe in time, all the while scanning the crowd of their prime visitors.

It was really a surprise that so many of the nobles of the land had shown up. It had been over twenty years since the monarchy was overthrown, yet they still harkened to the call of the old king's birthday party. Lords and ladies, barons and dukes, circulated the room. White hair mixed with the blond and brown of those who did not even remember when their titles had been more than mere prefixes to their names. The party had an air of a family reunion, with everyone laughing and shaking hands and catching up on which parts of their estates they'd had to sell this year.

Brenna caught sight of her sister on the far side of the room, lost in her own thoughts and staring at a pitcher on a small table, and started to head that direction. She'd barely made it a few steps before Aunt Perta flagged her down with a waving feather fan.

"Brenna, darling, come wish your great uncle many happy returns!" she said. It was in a light tone, but Brenna knew it hid dire consequences if she refused.

Gathering her midnight blue skirts, Brenna picked her way through the crowd to the chairs where her aunt and great uncle sat. An empty chair sat on Great Uncle Roma's other side, where Aunt Nora would sit when she returned from her socializing, and Aunt Perta motioned for Brenna to sit.

"Uncle Roma. Your great niece, Brenna is here. Sister Cora's daughter. You remember?" Aunt Perta said it all in the slow and loud voice that one used on foreigners and simpletons. Great Uncle Roma blinked pleasantly at her. "My sister Cora, Uncle Roma. You used to yell at her. You remember?"

A line of shiny drool trickled out one corner of Uncle Roma's mouth and onto his starched collar. Aunt Perta gave up trying to get him to remember Brenna's mother.

"Brenna's come to say something to you, Uncle Roma." She raised her brows at Brenna, who slowly plastered on a smile and took the trembling hand of the old king.

"Many happy returns of the day," she said, holding the dead weight of his hand until she could safely put it down. She would have retracted herself right then, but Aunt Perta didn't look quite ready to release her. So she forged on as if Great Uncle Roma might understand her. "Did you see all these people that have come for your party? It's almost like the old court."

Aunt Perta pursed her lips. They tried not to talk about the old days in front of Great Uncle Roma. It hadn't been long after his removal from the throne that the mind-sickness had set in, reducing him to the shaking shell that now smiled blandly at a spot on the far wall.

An old woman covered in wrinkles and wearing a dress that looked ridiculously young on her, approached with a man at her elbow. She dipped her head at Brenna and then smiled virtuously as she scooped up Great Uncle Roma's hand and curtseyed. "Many happy wishes, sire," she murmured. No one was allowed to refer to him as 'your majesty' or 'your highness' anymore, though Brenna could clearly see that they wished to. It might have been decades since the throne had been occupied but the nobles remembered it well. The woman said a few more pleasantries and then shuffled off to be replaced by other ladies and lords wishing to pay homage to their nostalgia.

As her great uncle swayed slightly, Brenna felt an urge to abandon ship. She'd never liked the old man, and being forced to sit next to him felt like needles jamming into her side or a hot flame against her skin. No respect for her elderly relation was present in her breast. He'd been a king of a cultured and ancient kingdom, and yet when push came to shove he'd rolled over and let some new government haul off the right to rule with not even a harsh word. It might have saved a civil war, but it certainly wasn't the way Brenna would have put her family birthright to rest. A kingdom was not something you handed over.

Sighing heavily and letting her head loll, Brenna scanned the room for anything else to look at besides the well-wishing nobles in front of her. By one of the large paintings a few yards away there was a group of potentially interesting looking men. They were obviously foreign, with light hair and eyes and wearing styles that were far too plain for the nobles of Ittal. None were too old, and Brenna perked up. She adjusted herself on her seat to try and draw closer to them. They were not at all interested in talking to any Ittalans, and seemed to be in some sort of argument or debate. Much more interesting than happy returns.