When the Banshee Whispers

chapter 8

Chapter 8

Years passed without major incident. There were always accidents around me that ended in the death of someone. I still felt a tinge of guilt everytime a smith got kicked by a horse as I walked by or a maid took a tumble down the stairs. The tutors told me that it is natural to feel like it was my fault. That children often think the world is all about them. That didn't help at all.

Cara told me much the same thing. Only a little blunter and with no small amount of mockery. That helped a little more.

In truth it was Buttercup that helped me to find a little peace that it may not have been my fault. Or rather the lack of the banshee's presence.

Cara and I grew from children pretending to be adults to slightly older children acting like adults. The tragedy of our lives left us in a different world than others our age. So instead of running around with the other noble boys I spent my days, when not in training to be king, walking with Cara, and every night I could slip past the guards hiding out in the stables with her.

I always considered myself quite talented at giving my guards the slip. If I was talented then Cara was gifted. I'd never seen anyone so skillfull at disappearing.

After the death of her mother Cara was taken in by Sir Gunthar and his wife. Having no children of their own the two were patient and kind. At first Sir Gunthar did everything he could to keep track of his surrogate daughter. At one time he had three men guarding her at all times, one of them a Tallon trained to track anything through anything. I watched from the crack in the planks in our favorite loft as Cara walked through a crowd, her three tails no more than six paces behind her. Some one shouted across the street, as vendors often do, and in the exact moment her guards instinctively looked Cara simply changed directions. They looked right, and she turned left. She immediately fell into step with an older man with a large enough gut to hide her thin frame. Thirty seconds later and a few more direction changes and Cara was climbing the ladder into our loft as her guards frantically looked for her. After that Gunthar stopped trying to keep track of her.

I'll never forget the nights in the loft. Lying with Cara. Her head on my chest as I ran my fingers through her long brown hair. Looking down at her as she looked back at me with her beautiful big brown eyes. Memories of what could have been had I been another man. Had I not been cursed.

* * *

Once again I found myself below the high chair. Only this time the room was full of nobles and councilman and I was sitting at one of the front tables. The eight seats on the dias were empty, each of the seven councilman standing behind their respective seat. I frowned as I saw the Unwieldy Crown sitting on the arm of the high chair.

Amelina sat at the same table as me, albeit as far from me as possible. No matter how many times I saw her change, seeing Amelina without her glow seemed unnatural. The tall proper woman who strode into the council room replaced with a weariness  that few could ever comprehend.  I sat in silence watching as the council room filled with all the noble lords and ladies deemed important enough to be invited. None of them took a seat next to me. Regardless of my place at a front table. It would apear that the stories of the Ghostmaker had made it through the nobility as well. 

No one spoke to me as I sat quietly. I was just fine with that. The emotions of the day were enough company for now. The rush of being home, the loss of a brother I hardly knew any more.

My self loathing was interrupted by the sounds of a large gong being struck. The entire room stood as it was struck again. At the third ring the heavy doors to the council room swung open. Four guards in elaborate ceremonial armor walked in holding long halberds. The armor and weapons where polished silver, not unlike that of the winged valkyrie that had carried Alanar's soul to heaven not an hour earlier.