Flickering Shadows

Inara

The Festival is today.

I had it marked on my calendar, never to be forgotten. Not that one could forget the coming of darkness.

Well, not darkness incarnate, but he might as well be.

The forest is divided into two kingdoms. First, is the Sun kingdom, beautiful and radiant, where night only fades into colours of blushing pinks, sleeping blues, light oranges and subtle reds. Never black.

Second, is the Moon kingdom, terrifying and mysterious, where days bleed darkness and shadows. Their waking and sleeping is only divided by different shades of black.

The festival, held in honour of our ancestors who created the two kingdoms, is a celebration of love. Held every time a new king is crowned. The ruler of said kingdom is to travel to the opposite kingdom, look for his mate, and then drink an unhealthy amount of liquor while dancing until nightfall.

It’s a very obnoxiously annoying ordeal, and usually ends in disappointment, because why would the moon goddess put your mate in an opposing kingdom? It’s a waste of time, and this year, it’s being held in our kingdom.

“You can’t say you aren’t excited for your first ever festival,” Kiana says as her hands mold strands of pink hair into curlers.

My eyes leave my book at the words, tracking her movements before I say, “It’s not my first one.”

She gives me a look, then scowls as she says, “You were three months old when the last festival happened here, and you didn’t even get to dance!”

I roll my eyes, then pin them to my book once more.

“What is it with you and dancing?” I mutter.

An outraged gasp chases my words, and my eyes flick up, meeting steely pink ones.

“Dancing is a form of expression. It’s like talking with your body, singing with your feet. It’s-“

I put a hand up. “If you stop, I’ll trade dish duty for a week.”

Kiana grins. “Deal.” But then she frowns. “Ms. Granelle won’t allow us to switch obligations.”

A slow smile spreads across my face. “Ah, but you forget I’m trained in the art of avoiding Ms. Granelle’s eyes.”

Having worked under her stare for over eight years of my life has had me catching some slips and slides.

As if our words summoned her, banging on the door has my hands reflexively shutting my book and stuffing in under the thin blankets of my bed, while Kiana drops her hands from the curlers and stands up straight.

The door flies open on creaky hinges, revealing an irritated Ms. Grannelle.

“Did I say you had the rest of today off?” She questions, eyes roaming over Kiana’s curlers and the obvious lump under my covers before returning to us.

Kiana and I simultaneously look to the floor, shaking our heads.

“Then why are you still up here?” She practically snarls. “Dinner is to be ready in three hours, and appetizer preparations aren’t going to start themselves. Everyone will be eating in the Grand House today, so I expect double time, no lounging!”

My heart scrunches like an overused elastic, and, despite my better judgment, my head pops up.

“But, miss, the festival is today,” I say quietly.

Her eyes narrow, fury wrinkling her face.

“I am quite aware of the events today, girl,” she says as her feet step closer. “Tell me, are you expecting everyone to starve? Are you expecting the kings, to starve?”

I wince inwardly, angry at myself for being so foolish.

I shake my head. “Of course not, Miss. I just thought-“

Pain explodes across my face, followed by Kiana’s gasp.

My fingers reach up to touch lightly at the abused skin, tears racing to fill my eyes.

“You are not here to think,” she spits. “You are here to do. If you would like to continue questioning my authority, I can arrange the Post to be set up for this evening. Would that be preferably to making dinner?”

I shudder, my mind fighting against past terrors that began with that awful place.

The Post is no silly threat, and I think I speak for every maid here when I say I’d rather burn both my hands on a hot pot than go there again.

“No, Miss,” I whisper, blinking furiously against the water pooling in my eyes. “I apologize for my ignorance. I wasn’t aware we were on duty tonight.”

She scoffs, muttering something about insolence under her breath before she says, “Well, now you do. You will both be present within the kitchen in five minutes, or punishments will be doled out. Understood?”

Kiana and I nod, muttering, “Yes, Miss.”

I jump when the door slams, and I almost repeat the action when a hand touches my cheek.

Kiana’s fingers are gentle as she prods at my face, but the tender skin is relentlessly throbbing.

“I don’t understand why you provoke her. You know it only ends in bruises,” she whispers.

I lightly push her away.

“I’m fine, really,” I reassure her, smiling softly, though it might resemble more of a grimace. “We best get down there before she decides to make your face match. I wouldn’t want your dance partner to get stuck with a swollen faced girl.”

Her lips twitch, but despite my efforts, we both know one thing for sure.

Neither of us are dancing tonight.

I truly didn’t think this much food existed in the world.

Every counter is covered in everything from small trays of fruit and vegetables to massive plates filled with cut meats and potatoes.

“Behind!” Someone yells, and it pulls my attention from the food and back down to the dishes I’m currently scrubbing clean. Ready to be used for dinner preparations.

The cycle doesn’t stop.

Hair flutters from my bun, right into my eyes, but I can’t exactly fix it in my current predicament, so I blow, making it fly up… and right back down into my eyes. I try again, again, again-

“You are supposed to be cleaning those dishes, not spitting on them,” a cruel voice remarks from my left.

I tense, knowing exactly who that tone belongs to.

“Velaria,” I say, teeth clenched so hard my jaw protests. “I was trying to get the hair out of my face.”

“By spitting on the dishes?” She asks, her voice a mocking jeer.

I don’t know why I try to explain myself to her. It never ends in my favour. To her, I’m lower. Just because I’m not an Anomaly.

“Your green hair doesn’t make you superior,” I mumble, biting my tongue too late. As usual.

“What was that?” She spits.

My hands grip the edge of the sink, anger making my knuckles go white.

The punishment isn’t worth it, I remind myself, over and over, then again, until my knuckles are back to normal and rage is no longer boiling in my gut. Then I take a deep breath before saying, “I have a job to do.”

“Make fun of my hair all you want. I know it makes you feel better about your own,” she whispers in my ear, then starts to walk away.

I start scrubbing the dishes a little too hard.

I know I’m not special. That title is reserved for the Anomalies. The ones with hair and eyes so bright, some with colours none could dream of having. People like Kiana with eyes such a vibrant pink that it looks like dahlias in the sun. Or Ms. Granelle, with hair and eyes so orange it could be mistaken as the fruit. And Velaria, with the colour green leaching from her hair and eyes, who never fails to remind me that my hair is nothing special, my eyes so dull they could be invisible.

She could just be a little more subtle, that’s all.

“Everyone grab a tray!” Mia, the head cook, shouts. “The king’s carriage has arrived, and appetizers are to be going around at his arrival! Champagne trays are to picked up with two hands, and don’t put too many glasses on at a time….”

I tune her out as I grab my designated tray, my fingers wrapping around silver covered in different cheeses and fruit with little sticks.

My stomach clenches, and I will it not to growl. How horrendously embarrassing would it be to have your stomach groan in a room full of people? A room with the moon king inside it…..

My gut clenches again, but for an entirely different reason this time. I’ve never seen the moon king before, but I’ve heard of his cruelty, his black heart and shadowed face. I pity the woman who must spend eternity by his side.

“Alright, ladies!” Mia shouts again. “Line up! It’s show time!”