The Clutch of Sharys: Chapter Twelve
Chapter 12- The Airs of Heirs
Before long, the dragons did what was in their nature, and struck out, releasing magic never before seen by the still newborn civilizations.
Cara let out a sigh of boredom, nudging a pillow near her foot until it fell off the seat. The soft thud was enough to alert her dragon from its slumber, the creature lifting its tiny wing and sleepily peering around the room. Upon seeing Cara over at the window seat, it peeped expectantly, waiting to be carried over to the window ledge.
"Uh-uh." Cara told her. "You can fly over here if you want to come and watch, but I'm not budging." Turning back to the window, she again examined the skies, looking up at the steadily growing ring of dragons now circling over the Capitol. They had been up there for what seemed like hours now since that first cry had sounded, probably arguing over who got to arrive first.
Down below, King Markces of the Royal House of Teotokis waited, sitting on his throne as he, too, gazed at the sky. The monarch was the epitome of an older man who had been devastatingly handsome in his prime but had let himself go in the later years of his life. Now instead of what Cara had heard from her mother was a dashing, dark curled youth, an older man awaited his children with dots of grey peppering his short beard, and his black hair slicked back under a thick gold crown.
Thankfully, neither the King nor Cara had to wait much longer, as a small group led by two giant red and black dragons dipped away from the rest, heading directly down. Little wingbeats from behind her announced her hatchlings arrival, the tiny creature coming to a clumsy landing on top of her legs. "See? I knew you could do it." Cara told her, scratching behind the bright silver horns atop the little dragon's head.
Together, they looked out the window as the dragons soared in a tight circle, morphing the gusts of air streaming behind them in unnatural shapes. Flames soon joined the curling air, igniting the crossed wolves of House Kalatis above the crowd. The sigil burst apart moments later as six dragons rapidly dove through, pulling up to a neat spot as the king's children dismounted, marching neatly in a line to the raised dais where the monarch sat.
Bowing low in one uniform motion, the heirs paid their respect to the man on the throne in front of them. Cara was unable to see the king's reaction to his children, for bright shafts of sunlight burst through the clouds above, momentarily blinding those who were watching.
Shielding her eyes, Cara looked on as the rays solidified into four separate shafts, each brilliantly illuminating a descending dragon rider that neatly landed their creatures behind those of House Kalatis. Carefully unsettling themselves from their mounts, the four heirs of House Kastae slowly approached the throne, genuflecting before their king. The monarch raised his hands in acceptance and welcome, waving a warm greeting as the Blazing Fury himself, Lord Kastae, landed his deep green beast behind his grandchildren's dragons.
The man had once served as one of the prolific four Generals of Netis, now retired after a brutal fall, and incorrect healing had left him greatly incapable of his previous feats. If she leaned forward enough, Cara could make out the limp he tried so hard to hide, but her attention was soon taken elsewhere because as the grizzled old warrior bowed before his liege, the ground under his feet shook, stone spires erupting from the ground and smoothly entwining into twisted arches.
A tightly clustered group of dragons swooped down from the sky above, neatly weaving in and out of the enormous earthen structures, looping and loosing different spurts of magic as they flew to land. Instead of following the rest of the group, one broke off and lazily made a wide loop in the air. Cara watched as the vibrant green of its scales winked when it flew through one of the shafts of sunlight that Lord Kastae had brought out of the clouds before approaching the arches below.
When the cluster of dragons had landed beneath the earthen spires, the grass Green beast twisted in the air, barreling its way towards the group on the ground. Passing through the arches, a myriad of crystals blossomed out from the structures in the dragon's wake, catching several of the shafts of light and casting dazzling rays of color across the assembled crowd. The rider pulled their dragon up to a rough halt, dark wings beating powerful strokes against the ground to smooth their landing.
"They're not very good at taking turns." Cara murmured, watching the newest batch of heirs present themselves alongside the rest. Her dragon cooed softly, sharp claws digging into her legs as she clambered forward to try to get a better view out the window.
"You scamp." Cara hissed, lifting the hatchling and making a pained face at her. "Maybe I'll name you scamp." Flicking a dark purple tongue at her in defiance, the creature squirmed in her hands, trying to get free of her cruel and unjust restraints.
Placing her down, Cara looked out in time to see a light red dragon hurtling past the windows, a trail of fine blue mist falling in its wake. Before the fluid could reach the crowd, it hardened into white snow, flowing towards a white dragon soaring over the earthen arches. Atop its back, Cara could make out the flowing golden hair of Lady Manlis, the King's current half-Cetnan mistress. A slim, tan hand held up in the air directed the flurry upwards, towards where a bright blue dragon soared overhead, bursting through the snow and blowing it into the shafts of light.
Cara watched as the brilliant particles caught the beams, momentarily blinding in its brilliant mosaic of sparkling colors before they slowly fell from the sky. As the last three dragons landed, the king stood, leaning on his servant’s arm before straightening up and spreading his own wide open. Lady Manlis hurried into his embrace, the rest of those present shifting uncomfortably as the two reunited in a passionate kiss.
Releasing her, the king turned to address the crowd, no doubt in some speech about how outstanding and powerful his progeny was and how only the most worthy would ascend the throne. Groaning, Cara slowly slid her legs back down to the ground, feeling the smooth, cold floor beneath them. The baby dragon nuzzled her lower back, urging Cara forward with her pointy little skull. Cara stood, nearly falling backward in surprise when a steady weight pulled on the back of her shirt.
Looking behind her, Cara found the hatchling dangling off the back of her tunic, small teeth firmly embedded into the cloth and lavender eyes looking wholly unrepentant. Suppressing a tired laugh, Cara reached around and picked her up, twisting her shirt around when the little dragon refused to let go. "Did you try to hitch a ride and fail?" She chuckled, scratching at the creature's chin. Giving her a balefully adorable snarl through closed teeth, the dragon still refused to give up its mouthful of cloth.
Cara found that the journey back to the bed was not as exhausting as the first few steps she had taken earlier, perhaps owing to the horrible broth she had consumed at Lorsa’s demand. Once she reached it, Cara crawled in between the soft, cool sheets of her bed, which were enough to make the dragon finally loosen her grip, and Cara could lie down on the mattress without squishing her new friend. Sighing deeply, Cara pulled her blankets up, setting the hatchling on the pillow near her head. She was about to say something to the creature after her eyes closed, but sleep quickly claimed her before she could remember what it was.
Her sleep was long and dark, dreams void of any detail save a yellow moon gazing down into the vast emptiness of her mind.
When Cara awoke to the sounds of scraping trunks and clattering boxes, she peered around the room and out at the setting sun. An older man with light grey hair directed several servants to place various containers that they were hauling into the room, ribbons and cloth spilling out of some. "Ah, good." The man said, his tone distant and uninterested, "Tell the maid that her mistress has finally awoken, and we're ready for the fitting."
Turning to Cara, he gestured quickly with one hand, waving her over to the small semicircle of boxes that now surrounded a mirror at the other end of the room. "Move quickly now, we have little time before the feast, and I have several other riders to visit after you." Confused, Cara looked out the window again and then back at the man, and then over at the boxes. "The feast isn't till tomorrow?" She rasped, her tone making the statement sound more like a question.
"My Lady, you've been asleep a long time." Lorsa informed her, bustling into the room. "I'll be damned if we couldn't have mistaken you for a stone; you slept so deep." She shooed Cara out of bed, fussing to get the sheets straightened out after she left.
"This way, Lady Myzanti." One of the young servants murmured near her elbow, guiding Cara over to the boxes where she caught sight of herself in the mirror for the first time since before the Trial. Her unruly curls were a matted mess and flying wild all around her head, shadowing the intensely freckled skin surrounding the large eyes that stared back at her out of a gauntly pale face.
She hadn't realized that she had slept for so long, and the fact that she was now imminently faced with being presented before her king and court with little preparation rattled her. Cara's body felt numb as her mind flew, barely registering the different swathes of colorful fabric that were held up until the man insisted that she make a choice.
"My lady, please pay attention. Would you prefer the olive green or the mist silver?" The tailor said, indicating the two bolts being held before her.
"Huh? Oh, green is fine." Cara said distractedly, mind far from focused on picking dress patterns and colors. "She'll have the silver, with jewelry to match." Keti's voice announced, striding into the room without knocking on the door. "Drape cut, low back with a modest front, tailor the bodice and clasp the shoulders to show off her arms. Also, keep the hem just off the floor, so she doesn't trip over it." Her sister barked out the orders without so much as a second glance towards Cara, the staff leaping to complete her commands with great haste.
The Tailor gave her sister a deep bow, walking over to a long worktable that had been assembled near the door and waving one of his assistants towards a heavily locked black box. While the young boy fiddled with getting its many clasps opened, Cara took in Keti's poised splendor. Her dark curls were let out of their usual tightly woven updo, cascading down her back with small ornaments of gold clipping them away from her face. The fabric curving generously around her hips, Keti’s slim figure was tightly dressed in a gold gown from which a night blue underdress peeked out through artfully placed slits in the sleeves and skirt.
Trying to keep her envy in check, Cara looked away, glancing at her own broad shoulders and large, wide hands. She would've been more comfortable just wearing a flight jumper and calling it a day, but this blasted feast came with a set of expectations for both mannerism and dress that she could not escape.
"What's wrong?" Keti asked, accepting one of the simple necklaces that the servant boy offered her from the trunk.
Before Cara could answer, her sister continued, "I remember being unbearably excited for my presentation feast, though there are a few things we should go over before you head down." Cara dully nodded, the concerns she had been about to voice slowly sliding back into her throat. "You know, of course, the basics of court etiquette like never turning your back on the monarch and how to bow properly, so I won't waste breath there." Keti intoned, holding the necklace up to Cara's neck.
Shaking her head in the mirror held up by one of the other servants, Keti handed the chain back to the young boy who went diving for more. "You will be announced according to the rank of your dragon, though because you are still only a noble compared to the prince, you will enter at the same time.” Cara made a face at the thick golden collar that her sister next tried and turned her head slightly to remark, "Didn't Princess Klytha only hatch a Rank Eight when your Trial happened? How did that work with the presentation?"
Keti paused, not answering her query right away. Placing the collar down into the boy's hands, she carefully said, "Her Highness is…."
"Not one of those favored by the King." The tailor’s voice smoothly cut in, causing both of the women to turn around and face him. The silver-haired man had his hands perched like those of a puppeteer above the shining metallic silk, dark grey threads darting in and out as the dress quickly took shape, the metallic nature of the fiber allowing the rider to manipulate the fabric at an impressive speed. "The Crown has always held prince and princesses in favored regard for different reasons, though King Marckes holds power, especially where dragons are concerned, in high regard."
"Ah." Cara said, glancing up at Keti, "I'm guessing that an Eight didn't cut it to become one of his favorites?" Her sister nodded, lips pinched together. "Those who are favored enjoy some… extra privileges of holding the Crown's favor." The General remarked, picking up a thin silver wire that held an amethyst droplet in its center and casually examining it. "And those who don't are sent back to live with their families until such a time as the succession starts." The tailor finished for her, holding up his completed work.
“Or to the church in some cases, depending on how pious the families are.” Keti amended, examining the garment before nodding, "This will do."
The General imperiously told the young man assisting them with the jewelry to find something thin and silver, and Cara watched as the boy bowed, clearly cowed by the celebrity her sister carried before hurrying to search the chest. Keti steered Cara back over to the full-length mirror, accepting the garment from the Tailor and urging her sister behind the changing screen. While Cara got dressed, she could hear the boxes being moved once more, and by the time she emerged, the soft garment pulled over her head, all traces of the trunks and containers were gone.
Keti looked over Cara with a critical eye, nodding in approval after a few moments. "Excellent work, Gavelir; she looks almost presentable."
The older gentleman waved Cara forward again, placing her in front of the mirror while he stalked around her and looked for any possible adjustments and noting small measurements to his helpers. Looking in the mirror, Cara took in the smooth garment, which draped neatly across her chest into two metallic clasps at her shoulders before falling down her back into a draped pile. There was metallic thread sewn into the waistline, pulling the fabric in to accentuate her hips before pooling down into a skirt that was longer in the back than the front, leaving her feet free.
"If mother were here, she would tell me to lower your neckline more, but I think this is good for now." Keti murmured, adjusting one of the shoulders on Cara's gown. After a few minor adjustments, Gavelir, the tailor, seemed satisfied and quickly bowed his way out of the room.
"Let's get to taming that hair." Keti ordered.
Cara reluctantly made her way over to the small table by the mirror, picking up the silver-backed hairbrush and dragging it through her tightly matted mane. Wincing in pain as it almost immediately caught on a snarl, she barely noticed when Keti placed several bottles and jars down in front of her, along with a long, silver object that Cara had last seen when she was little. "What are you doing with Mother’s hairpin?" She asked, surprised that their mother had parted with such a precious treasure.
"She had it sent to me before my trial for good luck." Keti said, carefully watching her in the mirror. Cara was forced to look away from her sister's hazel eyes, the mixture of pity and understanding in them too much for her to handle. "Well, I'm glad that our mother was so supportive." She remarked, her voice cold and distant.
Sighing, Keti leaned forward and took the brush from her hands, quickly finishing off the last of the tangles with brutal efficiency. After she was done, Keti quickly twisted Cara's hair into a loose spiral on the back of her head, securing it with the silver pin and teasing a few curls out to frame her face.
"Well, wear it now with pride, and may it bring you luck during your presentation to the king." Keti quietly said, spraying some scented mist over Cara's shoulders and hair. Remaining quiet, Cara let her sister swipe some mixtures from the bottles across her cheeks and lips before carefully drawing dark lines of kohl across her eyelids. "There." Keti placed the brush down, and Cara glanced at the face in the mirror, lightly blushing and still infested with freckles. "It's nice." Cara remarked, her voice quiet.
Rising, Keti went to retrieve the necklace neatly placed on the end of the bed by the tailor's servants before they had left. "Keti?" Cara asked, her voice shaking slightly. "Hmm?" Her sister responded, her voice distracted. "What do I do in there?" Cara inquired.
"Well, I've given you instruction-" Keti began, only to have Cara cut over her.
"Yes, you've instructed me. But I need my sister's advice right now, not the General's rules and regulations." Turning in her seat, Cara looked over hopefully at her sister, "How do I make a good impression? I need people to like me if I'm going to find an occupation with how odd my powers are."
Keti exhaled, coming over and gently turning her sister back towards the mirror while she clasped the thin wire around Cara's neck. "Your sister would say that there's no one way to make people like you. Just don't be afraid and keep in mind that this is your one chance to present yourself to the court as you want to be seen." Finishing her job, she chucked Cara's chin affectionately.
"See that they don't remember you as a frightened child, though, hmm?" The General said, pushing down on Cara's shoulders. "Chin up, face relaxed, shoulders down. Carry your tension in your stomach and back, but don't let it show on your face." Cara obliged, feeling slightly better at the sight of the blank stare that replaced her wide-eyed expression.
As her sister swept towards the door, announcing that it was time to head down to the feast, Cara lingered back, studying the face in the mirror once more. She let her lips relax, her eyes soften, and tried for a small smile, hoping to create something human and welcoming in the stoney mask that her sister had just taught her. In the mirror, a girl that looked wary yet kind gazed back at her with a secretive look, and Cara decided that she would have to do for the evening.
Hurrying after her sister, Cara stepped into the fancily embroidered pair of silver heels that had been laid near the door for her to put on. She grimaced as they went on her feet, the narrow toe of the shoe pinching her foot into a more pleasing shape. Cara walked over to the bed to collect the napping hatchling that had slept through the entire ordeal of dressing, gently poking her awake as she walked to the door. Making her way out to the hall, she silently followed her sister towards the bustling commotion and unknowingly tense undercurrent of the Presentation Feast, ready to be remembered for who she wanted to be, not who she currently was.