Visions (The Daevas #2)

6 | Spark of Delight

November 18, 1520

"Oh, 'tisn't fair!" Anne whines beside me. "Mother and Father won't let me see Edmund till our wedding day! 'Tisn't fair, I tell you! 'Tisn't fair!"

Anne does not get her way right now. At this moment, I feel the same as her, though I maintain my composure, walking beside my sister who is now pacing back and forth like a caged lioness. I miss George dreadfully, and there's a pain in my heart that feels twisted inside. Never have I felt love for a man such as George. The four of us shall be married till some time in the spring. We can't bear the thought of not having to see them!

I frown. I know this is tradition, but 'tis horrid indeed. I am surprised at hearing Anne growling. Her hands are balled up into tiny balls on her sides. Her headdress is turning askew but I dare not try to arrange it in fear of Anne's tantrums at the moment. I stay standing, watching her.

"How can you bear not seeing your love, Venise?" she demands, walking toward me in determination, her little feet stomping the earth underneath our richly booted feet. "How can you bare such a thing, when you cannot even see them in...Oh, God's blood!" she grounds out, cursing viciouy. "I want to see Edmund!"

"'Tis tradition, Anne," I say, though without much conviction in my voice. "Our grandparents, the king and queen, want us to follow tradition as we are princesses after all."

Her beech-colored eyes let out a little spark of white and black in her rage. "'Tis insufferable, if you ask me!" She stomps her foot on the grass. I cannot help but find my sister adorable with her long hair glowing fiery red-gold, wisps of those unruly curls of hers finding its way out of her peach headdress. "Do you not miss your handsome George, Venise? Your handsome knight, your handsome marquess?" she asks me, her eyes shining with tears. Merciful heaven, my sister is in love as I am! She has not confessed me this yet, but now I see that she loves Edmund that she cannot bear the thought of not seeing him for five horrendous months.

My eyes soften as I look at my wretched sister and I open my arms to her. She comes into them and begins to rack her shoulders with heart-breaking sobs. "Hush, sister," I whisper in her ear. "Of course I miss George. I miss him terribly."

"I cannot stand parting with the man I love." Anne moans this time, burying her head in the hollow base between my ear and neck.

"I know," I say quietly. "I love George with all my heart as you feel for Edmund."

But I know what I must do, and what I must do is to be patient as a trained princess ought to do as I wait for my dearly beloved.

'Tis nighttime, and Anne and I are dressed by our maid, Kate, ready for our slumber.

Anne, who is in a terribly bad mood, barks Kate's name. "If ever you find anything suspicious lurking in this mansion, be sure not to tell anyone a single thing."

Kate, who has witnessed my twin sister's rage once -- and has never forgotten the black and white sparks in Anne's beech-colored eyes -- nodded and sweeps the two of us a deep curtsy, closing the door behind her silently. I walk across the room and sit on my bed, my head lifting up to look at my sister, who's back is toward me, standing near the tall arched window in the center of the room.

She is waiting for something. I feel it in my being as my eyes heat up and change hues to a dark emerald green. Anne does not have much skills as I do, but I am certain that she knows that I know what she is waiting for. Is it some kind of miracle, perhaps? I bow my head and furrow my brows, trusting my skills. I look at Anne's pretty back again and this time, she feels my gaze. She looks over her shoulder, blinking at me, wisps of her untamed titian curls escaping from her white nightcap.