The Duchess of Emberthorn had long since grown bored of the stiff, glittering society that perched atop the marble heights of Highspire.
Even after her marriage, she found herself wandering more often than not through the streets below, where the air tasted of smoke and iron and the ground felt satisfyingly uneven beneath her boots.
It was a dangerous pastime, but she had a certain talent for slipping through shadows, unseen, unnoticed. A game, thrilling, yet perilous.
But now, she no longer needed to play that game. Once she knew the twisted lanes as well as her late mother's wrinkles, she had gathered acquaintances- or pawns- from the undercity of Solisra, now, in Crossreach, she did not have to be invisible.
To the folks in Crossreach, she was a familiar yet unsettling presence, a woman who never quite fit in, who appeared too often to be a stranger.
Crossreach was full of interesting characters- a ruthless murderer here, a mutated whore there- each with stories that brought her either joy or sorrow. And it was always here, in the heart of Crossreach, that the seeds of change were first planted.
But today her interest had been piqued.
She stood beneath a skeleton overhand of iron beams, her wide-brimmed black hat adorned with fresh roses casting a shadow over her face. Her green eyes, sharp as glass, watched the children at the fountain with quiet intensity. The girl- what had they called her? Mel- and her twin brother, Max.
They were small, smaller than children in their age should be. It wasn't that they were starved, but their bones stood out beneath the threadbare fabric of their clothes, their cheeks hollow as if the undercity had carved away their softness.
Their tangled golden curls were barely hidden under ragged newsboy caps- a poor attempt at disguise. Mel's hair defied the half-hearted braided crown meant to tame it, spilling wildly beneath her cap.
The brother wasn't much better off- skinny arms, knobby knees, but a roundness still clung to his cheeks despite the grime. Yet for all their raggedness, the Duchess saw something familiar- a fire that flickered beneath the dirt and hand-me-down-clothes.
Every day, the Duchess almost smiled at that. Almost.
Every day, the two would come hand in hand, clutching a morsel of food for sharing with their older sister, though they never ate with her. Somedays, they played with other kids from traders or fought with them. Somedays, they fought each other- brother pulling sister's hair, sister biting his hand.
Both would bleed and then cry, becoming a nuisance for the older girl. Somedays they sang, and a passerby would toss a coin. She remembered one such day when their sister seemed ready to murder the kind-hearted benefactor.
Today, too the Duchess nearly smiled. But then, the girl slipped and the smile vanished.
The duchess's legs and arms moved before she even registered into the thought, her lace-trimmed parasol snapping out like a hawk's talon. Its hooked handle caught the back of Mel's coat, tangling in the fabric as she yanked the child backward, just inches from the fountain's edge.
Mel flailed, her feet scrabbling for balance, eyes wide as she twisted to see what had caught her. When she spotted the black-clad figure looming above, she froze, her mouth slightly open, her heart thudding from the fall that never came. Max, meanwhile had collapsed onto the cobblestones, his legs too weak to hold him, breath caught in his throat.
Among the three, the Duchess herself was the most surprised. "Oh!" She breathed more to herself than to the children. She recovered swiftly, her expression smoothing into a poised, unreadable mask.
"Careful now, child," She said, her voice smooth and clipped, every syllable carrying the precise crispness of Highspire diction. "The water may look shallow, but there are currents beneath the surface,"
Mel blinked, trying to grasp the meaning behind the words. Her gaze darted between the parasol hooked to her dress and the stranger holding it. Max's small fists clenched the fabric of his sister's coat as if his grip alone could keep them from whatever danger this woman might pose.
The Duchess released the girl with a delicate twist of her parasol. "Quite the daring little rescuer, aren't you?" She remarked, one brow arched as Mel steadied herself.
Up close, she saw the details she had observed from a distance- their sharp eyes, ark and guarded, reflecting more than mere curiosity. There was wariness there, the look of stray cats that had learned to distrust the kindness of outstretched hands.
But she also noticed something others might have missed- the subtle glint of their glassy eyes, cursed color hidden beneath the grime. An eye color she recognized too well.
Without thinking, she cupped Mel's chin, turning her face to the light. The girl flinched, but before she could pull away Max scrambled to his feet, placing himself between his sister and the Duchess's touch. "Leave her alone!" He demanded, voice quivering, but with a spark of defiance.
The duchess's smile deepened, almost wistful, as she drew her hand back and adjusted her parasol, smoothing the front of her maroon coat. She mumbled to herself, barely audible "... Who would believe me?"
The air around them seemed to grow heavier, charged with something unspoken, as if even the shadows held their breath in her presence. The gentle gurgling of the fountain faded into a distant murmur, swallowed by the weight of her aura.
Max gathered his courage, taking a deep breath. "Th-thank you for... um... helping, but w-we're leaving!" He tried to tug Mel away, but she remained rooted, her curiosity overtaking her fear.
The Duchess's gaze lingered on the fountain behind them, her voice taking on a melodic, almost hypnotic tone. "That fountain of yours," she said, "it's quite old, isn't it? Older than Crossreach itself, some say. Older than the whispers of the city beneath, even."
Max scrunched up his face, his thoughts clearly tangling in confusion. "Nobody whispers down there," he insisted, though doubt crept into his voice.
"Is that what you think?" The Duchess tilted her head, her hat casting a half-moon shadow over Mel's face, leaving her expression unreadable. Her parasol twirled in a slow, deliberate circle, tracing patterns in the dusty air. "But I wonder... what is a wish worth to a child who has so… little?"
She glanced at the apples bobbing beneath the water's surface, her smile softening into something. "To someone who barely has enough to fill their hands, a wish might seem like a little thing... just a coin tossed into the water, with hope attached." She continued.
"But to someone who understands the currents beneath... a wish can be everything. A way to change the world."
Max's curiosity broke free, lighting up his face. "Change the world?" he asked, stepping closer despite himself. "How could a wish do that?"
The Duchess leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Some say the fountain listens to those who speak to it properly. That if you give it something precious—truly precious—it might just give you a way to bend the world to your will. A way to reach beyond even the bridge, beyond Crossreach. You could rise as high as the stars... or sink to the depths and find treasures buried in darkness."
The twins exchanged a glance, eyes wide with wonder, then turned back to the Duchess, hanging on her every word.
"A coin would work," she said, the corners of her mouth curling as she reached into her pocket, the movement achingly familiar. Just like the true owner of those eyes had done, all those years ago. She studied Mel, her gaze sharpening. "And what would you wish for, little one?"
Mel hesitated, glancing around as if searching for the right answer. She thought of clothes, of new shoes, of a place that wasn't so cold. But what tumbled out was simpler. "…Apples," she said.
Working male genes. The duchess thought.
Max leaped in eagerly. "A kiss!"
Mel shot him a look, exasperated. "How's a fountain supposed to give you a kiss?"
The Duchess arched a brow, amusement glinting in her eyes. She crouched down to Max's level, her smile more genuine than it had been in years, for the first time. "Come here, then," she leaned in to grant him his wish with a quick, light kiss on the forehead. "Aren't you a cunning little fox?" She said, chuckling softly.
Max beamed, flushed with pride, while Mel was disappointed, feeling left out. But their brief moment of delight was shattered as Miriam appeared, yanking them back by their collars, hiding them behind her. "What business do you have with them, lady?" she asked, her voice sharp with open hostility.
The Duchess's smile slowly melted away returning to its daily self. She straightened, brushing a hand over the front of her gown smoothing away creases that didn't exist. Her gaze swept over Miriam.
"Nothing,"
Her green eyes glinted beneath the brim of her hat, catching the fading light like a blade catching fire. "Only a bit of harmless conversation"
"Well, I think you're done," Miriam said more likely to the twins who were not obedient and talked to strangers.
"It's rather remarkable, don't you think?" The duchess said softly, her voice like the whisper of silk in a darkened room. "How Elarion wenches manage to bloom and breed even in the filth, even after I pluck them out many times with these very hands" Her chuckles were low. "One might think fate has a twisted sense of humor, wouldn't you agree, dear?"