The Entalia Bloodline

Chapter 1 - Maeve

Five Years Earlier

Fire and Water, that's what I'm made of. Flames and Rivers.

Mama always says so, and I shouldn't be proud because girls aren't supposed to be fiery and everyone should have some earth to steady them, but I am. High to low, joy to anger, love to hate. I'm utterly and irrefutably undisciplined, but this world has decided to love me anyway.

Maybe it's because I always put on a show. Dancing, singing, the violin, the pianoforte, riding, telling stories - you name it. If people want to watch it, I can do it, and I can do it better than anybody else. Words are my favourite: they're my power, see. I can twist people into telling me whatever I want to know; into thinking what I want them to think; into doing what I want them to do. But since I always dance nicely for them, people forgive me. The whole Southern wing of our city of Vyaerin knows me for it, as they know my Papa for his remarkable trade deals with the North and Maeve for her marvellous beauty and grace.

It's rare to find two sisters so contrasting, and yet so close. Maeve is kindness and gentility where I'm brashness and impatience; propriety where I'm rudeness. She is the soft, infinitely lovely moon to my blazing sunlight and the only known antidote for my incurably wild heart. I love her unconditionally, and more than anything else on this earth.

But as the years go by, even Maeve cannot keep me in check. I'm always causing more and more trouble.

Today is one of those days where trouble is inevitable. I turn sixteen in just a few months, and my Mama and Papa have decided it is time for my Reading. In other words – time to open up the doors for marriage proposals. Time to sell me on.

"Cecily, are you awake yet?" Maeve's voice is gentle and sweet from behind the curtains to my chamber.

I sigh, rubbing sleep from my eyes and extracting a loose strand of dark hair from my mouth.

"Yes, I'm up. You can come in." I reply softly, since it is impossible to ever be angry with Maeve.

She peels back the curtains and smiles her brightest smile, her iron-straight black hair loose and unbound around a heart-shaped face, pale as clouds. "Morning, little sister."

I smile in reply, holding my arms out for her. She runs a few steps and propels herself gracefully onto the bed beside me, planting a kiss on my cheek even as I groan at the impact. I wrap my arms around her and hold tightly, feeling her signature on my left forearm warm slightly at her presence. "You know its long past midday, Cecily."

"Why did nobody wake me?" I struggle into a sitting position, having to push a tangle of curls from my eyes to see Maeve. Her pale green eyes, the exact shade and shape as Mama's, laugh at me from her sweet and ethereally beautiful face. She and Mama are something of a novelty down here in the South, where most people look a lot more like me - dark hair and gold-tinged skin. 

"They're all afraid of your morning language, sweetie. Your vocabulary of insults expands impressively when you've just woken up."

"Shame," I say lightly, but heavy with sarcasm.

"Cecily, sweetie, you know what today is, don't you?"

"I know what it's supposed to be."

"Please go," she pleads, tilting her head to one side with an imploring gaze. "It would make Mama and Papa so happy." It's a mark of Maeve's sweet temperament that she at least poses the prospect as a question, rather than trying to force it.

I groan and flop back onto the pillow. "What about me? What about what makes me happy? I won't be sold on like a slave."

"Cecily, it's the way of the world." I can see the skin on the backs of her hands flush a little, a sign that she's starting to feel frustrated. "You remember how excited I was the morning of my Reading? It's the beginning of the rest of your life! You're going to meet so many handsome and wonderful men who'll want to marry you, and you get to pick which one and you'll get to leave here and start a family of your own. You'll be mistress of your own household."