The Undoing of Regent House

Chapter 2

Celia was always the princess and Bella was always the witch. Ryan was always the knight and sometimes even the king. Dylan always wanted to be an animal of sorts- a cat, a dragon, a bear- but ended up being whatever it was they forced him to be. Medea, the storyteller, all weaved them into place.

They stopped playacting when Bella turned thirteen. She was invited to her first ball and she considered herself far too old to be playing games with children. Soon after that, it all fell apart. Celia dragged Dylan away to the gardens, the nursery or the music room and Medea was left trying to pull Bella and Ryan apart.

The memory of Bella pressing her little fingers against Ryan's face was a memory she tucked away. Sometimes, Medea even thought she forgot it. Sometimes, she thought it was a dream. But, it left a lasting effect on her. She never left the two of them alone in the same room. She loved her sister, but she loved her cousin. She loved them far too much.

So, she threw rocks with Ryan in the lake beside their house and listened to him babble on about his narrow house in London.

"It's dark and ugly," he said. "And mother only takes us to the same shops. I think there's more to London than Bond Street."

"There is," agreed Medea. "You know, when you walk down the Thames, you can see sailors that are from China, India and even Africa."

He gawked at her. "You've been there?"

"No," Medea threw a rock in the pond. "I just heard father talking about it with his friends. And I read a few books in the library."

Ryan seemed to consider something. He was such a handsome child, with his black hair in ringlets and his eyes like stars. He was the prettiest child she had ever seen. Dylan was cute, but she preferred Ryan. Dylan was encased in this shell of fear, unable to crack through it, whereas Ryan was roaring seas, bellowing winds and vast, open adventures. He was a much better story.

"I'm thinking of sneaking out," he said.

She looked up at him worriedly. "Don't do that."

"I'll go at night," he clicked his jaw.

"Then who'll let you in?"

"Then I'll accidently get lost the next time I'm out with Mother dearest," he said smugly.

For a nine year old, that wasn't half bad. He crouched by the edge of the lake and picked at a few tendrils of grass.

"I feel like they're locking us in that house. I hate it. Don't you?"

Unlike her aunt and uncle, Medea's parents lived in the family's manor in the countryside. She didn't know why Ryan's parents decided to move out, but apparently it involved something along the lines of medication, business and inheritance.

"There are endless meadows here," she said. The running breeze emphasized her point. The lush trees whispered their agreement. "It's a big space. That's hardly a cage."

Ryan glowered at the water. "Not all cages look the same."

*

Medea snuck out that night. She left one of the front windows open before heading up to sleep and waited until it was half past ten, sharp. Every year, the farmers in the village threw a party after the harvest. Though her family owned the land, owned the harvest and, as Aunt Volumnia said, owned 'those filthy wretches', they never once partook in any of the festivities.

"You're a Regent," said Aunt Volumnia when she was ten. "You're above everybody else. The rest are all dirt beneath your feet."

"Ah, Vol," her father would cut her off. He had such an open face and such a warm smile. "It's almost time for dessert. Leave that talk for the study."