The Monocle's Eye

Chapter 16

 "Mother, you must rest, you'll kill yourself flying there all on your own," I'm flying alongside her, so high up in the clouds I can't see anything but our two dark figurers, and the shiny lights that race along around me. I've noticed Mother doesn't have any, and as she's slightly smaller than me, looks like a normal raven.

"I can't, Elly, you're in danger there, I can't rest, I can't." She replied, her beak shut, the words drifting in and out of my head.

"Take some poison, Mother, you'll die without it." I said, flying a little ahead so I can look back on her.

"I can't, Elly, I can't stop flying, I have to get there before she does, she'll kill you Elly, she'll kill you."

"Who mother, who?" I asked, but the big black raven beside me was already faded, the clouds fell away into black, "Who, mother, Who?" I screamed, my eyes already open, "Answer me mother, who?" I screamed, but my words fell away, and I realized Illy was sitting up beside me, staring wide eyed. "Did I speak?" I asked suddenly, and she nodded.

"You sure are having strange dreams lately." She said, "And always near the evening as well." The dreams were strange, dizzying, and all too read feeling when I had them.

"I know, though I didn't have any the last couple of days," I replied, slipping out of bed to stretch. "And their all sort of similar too."

"I can send for a doctor to." She begins.

"No," I replied, slightly flattered that she was willing to."It'll go away, that's not necessary." I hated not knowing what was in her head, but most of all weather she was serious about me or whether I was just going to be another fling that ended in a gunshot. She seemed to have these unspoken rules about what was acceptable and what was not, because although she took no precaution in doing whatever she like with me, on my own I could hardly touch her before she had scurried off on some supposed mission of great necessity.

She only ever called me by name, only doing so in public, to the extent where I almost though I might secretly be a replacement for someone else. She hadn't put up a fuss about me calling her Illy, but I could see she was grateful when I said Master instead. But beyond all this she seemed to have almost ceased talking to me, as if it scared her to do so, and often cut me off when I began with a tug of the chain or an almost frantic kiss, like physical touch was going to save her from verbal touch. And my dreams didn't help me get any less irritated or relaxed about any of it. It had been about a week since the ball, and she hadn't changed one bit since then, caught in-between real commitment and complete indifference, and she seemed equally terrified by both.

As had become customary in the past couple of days, I returned to my room and spent my time chatting with the Golden twins or Ebony and reading, before returning to Illy just before sunrise. As was common for her as monarch, she had many duties to fulfill, and usually didn't cease her working or return from her endeavors until then, so I had to busy myself accordingly. It was past midnight by the time the thought came to me, and it came only because the letter caught my eye from where it lay, it's blue Clementian wax seal open on the desk. I though perhaps I would read it again, and I did, but when I did something about it struck at me. If my father had never existed, where did I get my golden.

Ever since I was little my mother had let me have the golden pocket watch. She told me it was from my father, and that he died in a car crash just before I was born and left me the pocket watch to remember him by. If he had not existed, like she said or otherwise, who had left me the pocket watch. I went to my dresser and pulled it out, stripping the silver chain out of it, and turning it over to examine it alone. It was simple enough in function. The front was smooth gold, but as you turned it to the back it had a large round window into the mechanics, displaying the silver and brass gears as they ticked away. I popped it open with the button on top and stared at the hands, they were smooth black sticks on the white, numbered background.