A Life of Grime

Chapter 1

Kieran enters the big receiving room with a bang of the doors. He marches up the walk way toward where I am sitting at the foot of his fathers throne. On each side of the room well-dressed observers pause in their conversations, their eyes watching his progress. He stops on the bottom step, where the red carpet has bled into a deeper, purple colour. Gerric ignores him, waiting for his son to make the first move.

Instead, Kieran bends down and holds out his palm to me. Inside is a shiny diamond ring.

"I bought this off of a Grime merchant on my way in. Another one for your collection, Mila."

He says my name with the same northern inflection that his father uses. Mee-la. Instead of the quick lyrical way that some of the southern slaves say it. More of a Mill-a.

I grab the ring happily from his fingers, mouthing a thank-you. Behind me, Duke Gerric sighs and cracks another walnut into his mouth.

"Don't encourage her, Kieran," he complains, but he makes no move to take the ring away from me.

"Why shouldn't she have more rings? It doesn't make her any more dangerous than she already is."

I ignore them as they start into their familiar argument. Instead, I examine the new member of my collection. The ring has one large diamond, held in its setting with a silver weaving of small delicate vines. Leaves peek out around the centre, and a few hidden roses—just waiting to bloom. It is perfect.

I slip it onto my pinky finger and examine my hands. Flashes of colours greet me. My new ring is the only one that still has the silver of a diamond, but I will be able to change that soon. I rearrange my other rings on my hands until the I like the new look. Now my biggest ring, the green stone with the gecko curled around it, is on my first finger. I like the weight of it there, and the power I can feel pulsing from the stone.

The gecko, Limma, gives a happy shiver and flexes her scales before settling down again. Behind me I hear the conversation break off.

“What are you doing? Is that more Grime?” Gerric has gotten out of his seat and is down the steps to me in a flash. He grabs my wrist tightly in his large muscled hand and pulls it closer to his face, staring down at Limma. “This one is moving!”

I uselessly try to tug away. The word flies through my head that I could use to push him far from me. I close my eyes and flinch away from the blow that smacks on my cheek. I picture in my head the look of shock and distress on the courtiers faces if I used Limma to fling Gerric into the far stone pillar of the room. Their screams and gasps. The looks of fear. The rips of satin and velvet. Their panic as they try to get away from me.

Instead a familiar red burning in my throat prevents me from speaking. I try to ignore it and fight on. The red haze consumes my entire being. I know none of the others can see me, as my spirit being fights her way through the mist. Her surroundings are bleak and unyielding. The red touches her skin and leaves a sizzled patch of flesh behind. Still I open my mouth, trying to get the sound out. I cough ineffectively at the sensation.

“You dare try to defy me!” Another blow hits my cheek, but my mind is to exhausted to dodge it.

Soft hands with long, deft fingers pry me gently from Gerric's grip. I collapse against Kieran's chest, hearing his steady heartbeat against my ears, sped up now from challenging his father.

Carefully I gather the strength to open my eyes a crack. Gerric stands in front of me, his chest heaving in his anger. Behind him, the witnesses are down on their knees, heads bowed. They stay down, slowly inching closer to the walls in case his anger turns on them next.

Against my head, Kieran's shirt is soft and clean. He smells like bittergrass, a scent that both terrifies and intrigues me.

With one last growled obscenity to his father, Kieran pulls me out the back door of the hall. He supports my weight until we reach the large inscripted door of my chamber. There I pull all my strength together and pull away from Kieran's side. My muscles are filled with a heavy fatigue, so that I almost collapse back into his arms. On my face I can feel a giant hand print smarting.