68. (Brother and Sisters, Continued)

Part Three: Deception (Mara)

They say, sometimes, that when your life is about to take a sudden and drastic turn for the better or worse, you have a feeling for it. In Mara Ado's case, this is simply not true. She sits in her room in front of a mirror, brushing her hair. Small in frame and stature, the 13-year-old looks like her only brother: black hair, black wings; but instead of blue eyes, Mara's are violet. This same violet can be found in (artificial) streaks in her hair, framing either side of her face.

Her room is everything a princess' room should be: baubles and jewels and everything she could ever wish for, a huge bath, a massive four-poster bed. Here and there hover or glow or hum or whistle various pieces of arcane miscellany: some toys, some tools, a few weapons.

The mirror she gazes into is an example of this: when a knock sounds at her door (which is carved of the richest, darkest, most exotic wood she could find), Mara waves a hand and the mirror ceases to exist--it had had no form in the first place, simply a bend in the light, a little thing that only a most powerful arcanist could master. It is her favorite trick.

The girl rises from the cushion she had been sitting on and approaches the door. "Who is it?" she asks.

"Subcommander Lorrin," comes the reply. With something like a sigh of relief, Mara waves her hand again, and the door swings open easily. The tall, blonde-haired and white-winged man on the other side bows slightly. "Your highness, there's been an attack on the palace. Your parents have ordered that you and your siblings be gathered up and brought to them for safekeeping. Commander Ado and the young princess are already in the throne room. They sent me to fetch you." He bows again, smoothly.

Mara cocks her head to the side slightly. "You realize I'm perfectly capable of getting there myself, yes?" she asks, haughtily.

"Of course, highness. I come only at the request of your parents."

"As you wish, then." The two set off through the long, twisting corridors that lead down from the tree branch Mara's room is located in to the heart of the palace, where the throne room is located. The halls are strangely empty. Mara can hear the clang of metal coming from the kitchen, but the noise is slightly off. She pays it little mind, assuming the chefs are just hard at work with some new delicacy.

"What was the nature of the attack?" Mara asks, tossing her hair back away from her face.

"A group of men from afar infiltrated the palace and attempted to assassinate the king. We killed several, but a few may have escaped; this is why the king and queen want you close by."

"I see. What city were these men from?"

"I do not know, princess. They appear to have been hired sellswords."

Mara frowns, misses a step. "How strange. Who would want to kill my father?"

"I have no idea, highness." They walk in silence after that. The path to the throne-room is long and twisted; it takes them some time to reach their goal. When they reach it, she pushes both massive doors open and strides confidently into the room, bathing in the light of the glorious sunset as it pours in the huge gallery windows that make up the back of the room, the view of the horizon framing the docking tree and its airships.

And Mara Ado misses her second step of the day. Her hands and lower lip tremble. She sucks in a breath. "Subcommander--" she stammers. "We're not--" and the pommel of his broadsword slams into the back of her head. The sky erupts into glorious, beautiful light, first orange, then blue-violet. Mara falls to the polished floor, slumping, "... safe... Erie's ship?" and in plain view of her dead parents, of her dead sister, of the bodies that little the floor of the throne room, she loses herself in unconsciousness.

"My lady," she hears, stirring. "My lady, wake up."

"Lorrin?" she mumbles, eyes half-closed, head throbbing. "What has happened? Have you found the attackers?"

"Found them?" The subcommander of the grins at her. Grins.

"Oh no," Mara whispers.

"Don't pass out, my lady. I want you to feel this. I'm going to cut out your eyes."

She screams. And, thankfully, the darkness goes deeper than her eyes.

Mara thinks she wakes. The polished floor is cold to the touch, and slick with blood--her blood. She cries, then stops herself. She's alive. She's alive. But she's not alone. She can hear noises throughout the palace. Fighting, coming closer. She can hear her heartbeat. She struggles to stand. The heartbeat speeds up, flutters in her chest. They're coming for her. Where's Lorrin? Why did he leave her alive? Her hands touch something. An arm? A leg? No, an arm. She feels up the length of it, finds a hand, feels the other direction. Female. Slim. Young. Sarah. Her little sister. The youngest of her family. She's cold.

The fighting is coming closer--then, suddenly, silence. Footsteps. They're coming for her now. Mara forces herself to her feet. She remembers where Sarah was when she came in. She rises and faces the door, trembling with the exhertion of it. Her face, sticky with blood, throbs. Her head throbs. Her heart throbs. But through it all, she prepares herself. A few words in the old tongue. A few hand-gestures. She's ready.

Footsteps coming closer. Voices. Familiar? Can't tell. Can't be. She's alone. Completely alone. Something thumps against the throne-room door. Mara whimpers, bites her lip. The door creaks open.

A last old word. A last flick of her wrist, and she feels the burst of heat on her face as the ball of flame leaves her fingertips, propelling her arm back. It only takes an instant. She hears the whoosh of the air being sucked out of the balls path, devoured by the fire. She hears someone--Reid!--shout her name--"Mara!"--the sound of a scuffle. A sick sort of knowledge enters her mind then, through the pain, through the fear, through the anger. Her hand falls to her side as she hears the fireball strike, hears a woman scream, smells the immediacy of burning flesh, hair, and feathers. And she lets the darkness take her again, and doens't even feel her head land softly in her dead sister's lap.