Roya
As we pull to a stop before a large icy mansion on the outskirts of Fairebourne, a icy chill settles into my bones. I shake under the layers of cotton and fleece. A tall and terribly dressed woman stands at the front doors, her face chiseled into a nasty grin. "Mr. Ljuggren." She nods, then turns her eyes to me. "Miss Roya, your mother is glad to see you again." She says, looking me up and down. "Where is Rola?" Father asks, slipping from the bench. I follow and begin my climb to the front doors, were m mothers maid stands.
"Right this way, Roya." She turns as walks inside. A foyer of marble and ice meets my eyes, and I suddenly feel very, very cold. I shake an shiver all the way up the grand staircase and even into the drawing room, where my mother rests drinking tea. She sets the cup down on an oak side table when I enter. The maid closes the door behind me. I look to my mother.
"Roya..." She drawls, her voice almost pleasant. Ice crystals forms on my hair and lashes. They melt quickly. Mother cocks her head, her eyes lighting up. "Your a failure... correct?" Her voice is full of disgust and sadness. My hands shake as anger rips through my body. "You bear no mark. Nothing to suggest you're anything better than a dog." How dare she! Her only daughter, the only one who can pass on her legacy! "Your cheek is free of a snowflake. A little flame. No water drop or wind gust...." She whispers, her voice deep.
My whole body breaks into tremors of anger. "Tut, tut. Should I have left you to freeze in the dead of winter..?" She asks, picking up her tea cup. Heat rolls of my body. "Useless..." She murmurs. Her eyes glow. That's it. I fall to my knees as flames spurt from my finger tips. I stop. My anger recedes and I'm left in shock. "D-did that just happen...?" I ask. My voice quivers. "Oh yes it did." Mother says sharply. My eyes follow hers to the burnt and charred carpet. "My god..." I breathe. "More or so thank the gods." She snaps in her usual no-attitude tone.
"Yes, all the very same." I answer quickly. This is why mother and I don't live together. I doubt we would ever be able to stop bickering. "Your father?" I squint my eyes at her. Not even a hint that she used to love him. After all, they had a child together. "Unharnessing the horses, obviously." I say. She waves at me to sit in a chair. "You still lack a mark." She judges, bringing the old topic back. "Yes." I reply, keeping my tone cold. "Your also... 16, is it?" I nod.
"Strange." She says. I nod. "'Bout as strange and your maid." I don't think she can identify if that was an insult, or some kind of compliment. "Was that—" I cut her off. "An insult? Of course. To your maid, to be exact." My mother watches me wearily. "You could of be great power to the queen." I'm in shock at her sudden jump to conclusion. "Or... I could not." I say, raising my brows. "Nonsense. They will want to study you, anyway." I narrow my eyes at her.
"Is your horse here?" She asks, ignoring me. "Yes." I reply coldly. "Tempsa!" Mother calls, her voice shrill. The maid appears. "Saddle the horses. Mine and Roya's." she nods and disappears.
<><><>
I gallop on Tatums back. We move together well. Mother and her snowy white Paso Fino stallion gallop next to us. Father remains back at mothers house. Snow flakes hit my face and sizzle, melting. Soon my face is covered in slightly warm water. Eventually, we pull to a stop in front of a large, castle-like building. I slip of Tatum and a stable hand immediately jumps into the cold to grab the reins. Another does so with mother's horse.
A lantern hangs above the door, just barely seeable between the heavy drifts of snow. Water runs into my eyes. "Come on," Mother says, her tone tight and forced. I follow her into the warm, bright building. The floors where newly waxed and a solid white marble. The walls where high and the ceiling arched to resemble a church. A high podium rests about 20 feet in front of the door, and a bulky, shoe man with a pointed beard stands behind it.
Mother and I approach as he looks up. "Oh, glad to see you, Lady Rola." He looks at me. His eyes darken. "And you must be the daughter. Barren of a mark." His eyes linger on my cheekbone. "Oh shush, Edward. She is gifted without a mark." She snaps. The man leans forward. "She's... what?" His tone is rude. "She has the power of fire. Without a mark." My mother snaps. The man looks flustered. He looks me up am don quickly, then jumbles with a pen and writes something down.
"My god, right this way," he says, jumping from the podium. A pillar of ice catches him before he lands on his small, piggy face. "Mrs. Marella will want to meet with you." He adds, scurrying across the marble and leads us through a large wooden door. Down a hallway and up a narrow staircase. We come to a door. The man reaches out an goes to knock. "Oh, come in!" A rather rude sounding woman demands. The an looks scared and pushes the door open.
"Lady Rola and her daughter here to see you," he says. After w have shuffled in, he slams the door behind us. "Don't waste my time, ladies." Mrs. Marella says, tapping her quill upon the desk. "We won't, Mrs. my daughter has proven to have the gift of fire, without the mark." Mrs. Marella looks me up and down. "How old are you?" She questions. "Almost 16." I assert quietly. "Delicate featured... 16... no mark..." she says, checking off a list of things.
"Very well," She says, "the fire queens men will be here to get you in the morning."
