Life After Death

Lancelot: alone

{Lancelot}

After dinner, the family dispersed into the house, and Juliet left for her own home. Having been outed with our names, my brother and I debated on whether or not to shift clothes, but I thought it would prove it bothered us. It wasn't horrible to have my own name.

"We should at least talk to that woman."

He bounced a ball at the opposing wall and looked up at me.

"Please?"

"What does it matter?"

"I want know what she was talking about."

Admittedly, I was curious too. Larachime seemed to think that it was important, but I had never heard of the seventh son being important. Corryn hadn't confirmed anything at dinner either.

"Mom said we were supposed to leave her alone. She has to return to Vercyne early in the morning."

"Then we should go now, rather than later. By the time you assuage your conscience, she could be asleep."

"That's a big word for you."

"Whatever. You coming or not?"

That was a dumb question. We were never apart, except during school. And even then, we were constantly playing pranks on our teachers. We had graduated now, but even so not a faery in there knew which one of us took their class.

I was starting to wonder if that was a good thing or not.

Carefully, we crept down the hall and then found the nearest available empty hallway.

"We want to talk to Larachime, Torninc. Please."

The whisper seemed ridiculous, but a door creaked down the hall. We hurried to it, and knocked lightly.

"I don't know why we're sneaking around like it's the dead of night."

"Because Mom and Dad won't be pleased that we're 'being bothersome.'"

"Well, she started it."

Larachime opened the door. She didn't seem surprised at all by the two of us standing there and let us in without a word.

"You two aren't very good at sneaking," she observed. "I heard you clear down the hall."

"We're weren't sneaking from you."

They had given Larachime a fancy room, much fancier than ours. The four-poster bed had lavender sheer fabric surrounding it and all of the surfaces were ornate and beautiful. I don't think anyone trusted my brother and me.

"We were wondering what you meant about the seventh son."

She gestured for us to sit and so I sat at the desk by the window and my brother sat on the bed. She leaned against the wall, thinking for a moment.

"It was just a rumor in Hell," she explained. "The seventh son of a seventh son is special. I have no idea how special, and at any rate, faeries don't have seven children, ever. Why is your family so big?"

"My mother doesn't have any family left and my father has his own estate to worry about. They didn't want any of us to be forced into Parliament or the Cabinet or taking up their titles. This way, we boys can split it amongst ourselves."

"It's a good plan," she agreed. "So long as no one fights over it."

My brother and I grinned. "Believe me, no one is fighting over all the positions our parents hold. There are just too many."

Larachime laughed. "That works, I suppose. Did I answer your questions?"

"I suppose. I mean, not if they're just rumors. I'll have to look it up."

"You'll have to let me know what you find," she remarked. "I would be interested to hear."

I stood, and after a moment's pause, so did my brother.

"We'll see you at breakfast."

She smiled. "I am looking forward to it. Goodbye, boys."

We left the room and headed back to our own. The hallways were still quiet; no one had even noticed that we had talked to her. She didn't seem dangerous, even though our father seemed to be very cautious around her.

"So are you happy now?"

"Not at all. I want to know if any of it was true."

"Not tonight, we're not. We were going to play chess, remember?"

"I don't know why, you always lose."

It was that precise reason that I wanted to play chess. It didn't make any sense my twin, someone I was identical to, would beat me in strategy. If it came to blows, I was stronger, but he would beat me in chess, cards, anything where we had to think. It wasn't fair.

I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling very strange. I could see nothing different about the room, or my bed, but still, I slipped out of the covers and looked around. My brother slept on the top bunk; maybe he had shifted in the night and woke me up.

When I peered at my brother's bed by the light of the not-quite full moon, I realized his bed was made up: no sleeping faery in it. I was alone.

A chill went up my spine.

There could be many reasons my brother wasn't in his bed, I thought. Just none that came to mind. On an impulse, I left my room and went back down to Larachime's room. No light glimmered under the door and I carefully turned the doorknob; it wasn't locked.

I don't know what I was expecting when I opened the door, but it wasn't an empty bed and an open window, with the curtains blowing gently in the nighttime breeze.

My twin was gone.