Secrets & Trinkets

Diana Mallora was the perfect, loveable child.

It was not that her sister, Dalia, wasn’t loved too. But Diana…

There was no comparing Diana. Not even to her twin sister, even if they were mirror images of one another.

It was like even the brown hair and the forest green eyes grew prettier when they belonged to Diana.

Diana could cast charming spells in rocks.

Dalia couldn’t even hold a newborn without making it sob.

Diana was the life of every tea party.

Dalia was not a creature prone to social niceties.

Diana was resplendent, a paragon. And Dalia, well, Dalia was cheap jewelry.

No one in the duchy understood the cause of it. How could children born at the same time, from the same parents, be so different?

As time passed, the physical similarity turned less apparent, and the twins became less like a mirror and more like a coin—perfect opposites. At this point, even though they were identical, people could distinguish them a mile away. Diana had a fixture of an elegant smile, permanently etched to her face. And Dalia… she did not. In fact, people found her rather insensitive. She did not make small talk. She did not laugh at bad jokes. She did not lie. She couldn’t find it in her to do it.

Dalia had always been rather intrigued by the ease in which Diana could compel people to like her. Eventually, Dalia gave up on trying to figure it out and accepted she was the wallpaper in Diana’s room. As long as people were looking at her sister, they wouldn’t bother batting an eye at her.

Naturally, Diana was the star of every ball, every tea party, every gathering, and Dalia dove into individual activities, such as gardening or reading.

But there was one nasty habit both the sisters shared.

At opposite sides of the same room, Dalia and Diana hungered to hear the latest gossip. While Diana used to participate in gossip circles, Dalia overheard secrets that weren’t so openly shared.

Diana revelled in the pettiness of hearsay. She enjoyed taking part in silently criticizing the countess who had been found in her lover’s bed or the priest who had been having an affair with a man. The judgemental side of her character, which she tried so hard to conceal, was only allowed this minor meanness.

Dalia, on the other hand, gathered secrets to feel the weight of a world she didn’t fully understand. It was like she had been trapped inside herself, away from people, but even though she couldn’t touch human warmth, the gossip would act as a glass window to her inner prison. Even if she couldn’t touch it, now she could see it.

Their indulgence for gossip was the very reason both attended the latest party in the Royal Palace for the Queen’s Crowning. Every year, the king would choose a new consort or one of the women he had already married to become this year’s queen. The others would be considered his mistresses throughout the year, living in minor castles with less bureaucratic power to their names.

It was a tradition Diana and Dalia didn’t like one bit, but this year there surely would be a new queen. The king had been having a very open affair with one of the maids. It was a great topic among high society, everyone wanted to see who it was.

Even though it was common for men to have affairs with maids and commoners, it was highly unusual to actually marry one. The nobles were blatantly against it and the Mereida Church was trying to find ways to avoid this year’s crowning. Both of them were unsuccessful in persuading the king to change his mind. Apparently, he was deeply in love with the lowly woman.

Dalia was standing in the corner of the room. Unsurprisingly, no one noticed her there. It was like even if she had been standing in the middle of it, she did not occupy any space. She could see Diana talking to a group of people and laughing as Lord Vyctor Moria made a remark. Dalia took a sip of her wine and wondered how her sister could seem so unapproachable and yet so charismatic.

She was so deeply lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice as someone slipped into her personal space.

“You must be Lady Mallora, right?” A golden haired man greeted her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

As he took her hand and slightly kissed it, Dalia looked down to find the most handsome man she had ever seen.

It was Eiden Maravena.

Dalia could barely believe he was talking to her. For a solid second, she thought she had hallucinated him.

He had a sharp jaw and deep, brown eyes with golden halos. On that day, Dalia finally understood why those features had granted him not only the title of most sought out bachelor in Maradora Kingdom, but the most devastatingly beautiful one, too. He was the portrait of predatorial elegance. His face and body were carved from whatever stone they had used to build cathedrals. His eyes were the same color of the wood they used to burn pagans at stakes, the same color of the fire, too.

And he was rich, very rich. He was every father’s dream and every daughter’s wildest fantasy.

But Dalia had heard the gossip around him. Poor family history: dead sister, dead mother, dead father, dead uncle. Something to do with paganism and rituals. Something the Mereida Church frowned upon. Something their very religious society could not discuss out in the open. A taboo.

Dalia didn’t mind it, though. To her, that perilous and undesired family history was nothing but a minor detail. Of course, she could not express her secular opinions to just anyone—the Meres, Mereida priests, would have her burned for it.

Or maybe, she didn’t mind it because she was too perplexed that someone had noticed her. And Eiden Maravena from all people! She felt strangely touched, as though there was someone who could see her from the other side of her glass prison.

Eiden moved to bridge even more of the gap between the two. Now, he stood at her side. Dalia tried not to notice the way he towered over her. He made it look like the ceiling of the palace was the roof of a closet.

Only then, did she realize she hadn’t responded to his greeting. She opened her mouth to do so, but he spoke first.

“Have you been asked to dance yet?”

Whether it was a good or bad impression, Eiden Maravena surely knew how to make one.

The way his mouth moved… Dalia barely heard him.

She was still flustered he had come up to her, her heart throbbing at his closeness. Then, a rather clarifying thought occurred to her. She felt her body relax.

“I think you may have me confused for my sister,” she said, truthfully. “She is right next to Lord Vyctor Moria.”

Eiden frowned as he turned his entire body in her direction.

A moment of dumbfounded silence passed by.

It was Dalia’s turn to frown. Did he not find her?

“There.” She pointed.

Another uncomfortable moment followed. Dalia was confused. Did she miss something about the interaction? Had she acted weird? Insensitive, as people told her?

He cleared his throat.

“Aren’t you Lady Dalia Emiliana Mallora?” he asked, a bit amused, as if he was uncertain he had approached the right sister.

Dalia’s eyes widened.

Suddenly, the entire glass wall she had built around her seemed to crack. Her breath caught.

She gulped.

“Yes, I am.”

He smiled. Perfect white teeth lined up.

“Then, may I have this dance?”

Her surprise deepened.

Eiden Maravena talking to her was strange enough. She could already feel the distant gaze of strangers at her back.

“Have you been under a rock for the past years?”

Eiden’s eyebrows raised at her coldness, but he laughed it off.

“I’m afraid I didn’t know you didn’t dance.”

“I dance,” she responded, her tone a bit more stiff than she had expected. It felt much like a barricade.

He nodded slowly, in the manner of a hunter dealing with a skittish deer.

After a while, he smiled again. He was not ready to admit an early defeat.

“Then, would you give me the honor of being your first?”

She blushed hard at those words.

Suddenly, Diana’s voice came up from behind her. Her tone was filled with feigned worry.

“Don’t be like that, little sister,” Diana ridiculed, as she approached the couple. There was barely a sound coming from her heels against the floor. Diana moved like a cat. Not carefully, as Dalia did, but regally. “Count Maravena is a great dancer from what I’ve heard.”

Dalia didn’t know which one was more perplexing, Eiden or Diana. Her sister had never talked to her in public. It was not because they disliked each other, but because they naturally drifted apart in settings such as these.

Eiden was still smiling.

“Do you know each other?” she asked.

“We’re friends.” Diana stated, instantly.

Dalia was caught off guard. She looked to Eiden, expecting him to clarify, but he merely inclined his head, neither agreeing nor offering a protest. She felt a strange wave of relief. She didn’t want to cause trouble for her sister, nor did she want to lose this moment of being seen.

She turned back to Eiden, her own smile shy but honest.

“Then, I would be honored to have you be my first.”