Prologue
'It seems you have exhausted my patience.'
The captive didn't respond. He kept staring ahead, his mouth set in a hard line. Two trained assassins held him down, a blade pointed at his throat which he didn't bother acknowledging. The assassin to his right pushed the dagger harder causing a thin line of blood to trickle down the captive's neck, yet he still didn't budge.
'Must you play dumb, my dearest Lord? It's a simple enough question, no need to brainstorm, after all, your men are dead so don't bother with your cunning tricks. I ask again, for old time's sake, where is the Jade?'
The captive looked up then, face twisting in disgust at the hooded man towering over him in all black uniform. His eyes filled with scorn as they moved over the silver buttons, the crest half covered by the cloak which wrapped like a shadow around the man's body, the silver belt, and finally came to rest on the double swords hung at the waist. He stared at them as he spoke.
'You have made a misjudgment on your part. I wasn't your enemy and neither were my men.'
The hooded man shook his head with a low laugh, cruel and mocking. He bent his knees, resting his arms on them as he leveled his eyes with the captive's and replied in a cold voice.
'I have reached the end of my loyalty, my Lord.'
In a swift, fluid motion, he drew his sword, its edge glinting as it sliced through the air with a soft whoosh and came down in a deadly arc. Blade tore through flesh and in the next moment, the captive's head lolled to the ground with a dead thud. The man turned around, taking out a handkerchief to wipe the blade and in another swift motion, the sword disappeared into its sheath. The two assassins followed him a step behind, patiently waiting for orders.
'Give him a proper burial.'
They bowed their heads and left as the man with blood splattered on his cheek, continued walking away from the scene without looking back once and said silently under his breath.
'Farewell, my Lord.'
Chapter 1
The metallic taste filled her mouth, the stickiness clogging her throat.
She didn't know why the taste was on her tongue.
She glanced down at her hands now stained with vivid dark streaks of maroon. Blood was everywhere - on her face, her hair, beneath her fingernails, and on her bright new white dress now soaked in the pool of blood she was sitting in.
The corpse lay beside her, stiff and pale. Just a few minutes ago, she had been talking to her. Or was it an hour? A day? A week? How long had it been since she was sitting here clutching her mother's cold and rigid hand? She couldn't recall. She tried making sense of it, to piece together the events that had led her here, but everything was a foggy haze. A disillusionment. She couldn't even remember who she was. Maybe she was dreaming. A horrible nightmare. Surely someone will wake her up. Someone will come for her.
Distantly, she heard a door opening. Light from the hallway spilled briefly into the dark before the door closed and she was once again trapped in the gloomy room. Or was it a grave? She certainly could not tell the difference. Every breath stuck in her throat as if she was being suffocated with the weight of earth on her face. A man's shadow fell over her. Some deep, instinctive part of her screamed to shrink away, to hide, but her bones were lead and her mind numb. The shadow moved closer and closer, enlarging upon her shrunk up self.
'Melannia.'
Run, run, run. Her instincts were a raging alarm ringing in her head. She wanted to silence it. It was too noisy.
'Look at me, Melannia.'
She didn't. Her eyes remained fixed on the pale white hand clasped firmly in hers, on the emerald studded silver ring on her mother's finger.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her throat. She gasped as her airways tightened. Fiery pain shot through her scalp as her hair was yanked in a merciless grip. She wanted to scream, but her throat burned. Her mouth hung open, no sound escaping, as if her vocal cords no longer worked. She looked up and everything in her went still.
A pair of steel grey eyes filled her vision.
'Why must you be so stubborn?'
A lightning bolt of pain shot through her skull, accompanied by a blunt impact on her head. Something heavy had hit her. The last thing she heard was a low pleased laugh, as warm blood trickled down her ear and her vision turned black.
***
Melannia woke with a gasp, her breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. Her body was drenched in cold sweat and she shivered uncontrollably. The sheets tangled around her legs, the thin material of the nightgown clinging to her damp skin. Another nightmare-just like the others. Each of them had a different, unpleasant conclusion.
She threw the sheets aside and got out of bed. Her fingers brushed her temples which throbbed as if she could still feel the ringing blow. This one had been different. Most of the times, the nightmares showed her running to or away from something but the details faded into a hazy blur upon waking, everything forgotten. This time, however, she remembered everything as if it had actually happened to her. As if she had lived through it.
Turning on the tap of the basin, she splashed cold water on her face and glanced at the mirror. Grey eyes stared back at her, again reminding her of that nightmare. Strands of black hair stuck to her face which appeared tired and haunted. Her skin had taken on an ashen pallor. She looked down at the goosebumps on her arms to her shaking hands, at the emerald-studded silver ring on her finger. She took a deep breath and twirled the ring on her finger. Once. Twice. Three times, until the tremors left and her body relaxed.
She turned away from the mirror and padded back into the bedroom, but changed her mind and headed to the balcony. The curtains billowed as the chilly night air rushed in through the open balcony doors. Weird, she thought. She remembered closing them before going to sleep. Maybe Lucia had opened them to let in some fresh air.
Melannia curled up in the chair by the balcony railing, drawing a light blanket over her body as she gazed up at the stars. The chilly air felt welcoming, distracting her from the bleary thoughts of seeing her mother's corpse in her nightmare once again. Instead, she counted the stars and wondered if they stared back at her and see the husk of a person she was becoming. She counted and counted until her eyes drooped, sleep enveloping her once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'You look tired, my dear. Have you been sleeping well?'
Aunt Clarence inquired as she looked at her, brows furrowing in concern. They were seated in the dining hall for breakfast, the table laid with an elaborate spread, far too much for just three people. Different kinds of bread, eggs cooked in variety of ways, cakes, syrups, many flavors of jam, marmalade, butter and a large basket of fruits adorned the table, most of it untouched. They had been discussing societal matters before the topic was veered to Melannia, who was now the target of scrutinizing looks from across the table. Her Uncle had also set his cup down and stared at her intently.
Melannia smiled and shook her head politely setting her buttered toast on the plate before her. She took a sip of her tea before replying,
'I am alright, don't worry, I just couldn't sleep well last night.'
'You have been too occupied these days with the ledgers and buyers. Take a break from the work. You need some time to yourself to rest,' Aunt Clarence insisted.
'I will make sure I rest, Aunt, but the work is important. It will leave a bad impression if I start slacking off.'
Aunt Clarence clicked her tongued but let the subject drop. She pushed more fruits in Melannia's already full plate. Melannia sighed but politely smiled in gratitude.
'Melannia, you will need to assign someone to take charge of the work temporarily. Ask Lucinda to manage things for two weeks or hire anyone else that you find suitable.'
Melannia looked at her Uncle's serious expression. Surely, he must be jesting, but she knew that she had never once heard her uncle saying anything for fun. She swallowed thickly.
'May I ask why? Are we travelling somewhere, Uncle?'
She didn't expect a response. He rarely held a conversation, much less answered her directly. Whenever he addressed her, it was always orders and long lists of rules she should abide by. She was taken aback when he explained.
'We will be leaving for Ravelon in four days to meet the Grand Duchess. Night Lantern Festival is approaching. We will be spending two weeks in Ravelon in the Ashberne Residence.'
The statement was clearly final, leaving no room for argument. Even if she wanted to, her Uncle's serious tone and unforgiving, hard-edged face stifled any rebuttals she may have had. She lowered her head and nodded, while Aunt Clarence watched them both cautiously, eyes darting back and forth between them. Clearing her throat, Aunt Clarence clapped her hands and began discussing the preparations.
'It's going to be so cold up North. We would need to pack accordingly. Melannia, you should ask Lucinda to get new dresses tailored for you. It's a big occasion!'
Melannia smiled and agreed. She knew her Aunt was trying to dissipate the tension which arose whenever she talked with her Uncle, whose controlling and demanding personality often clashed with her stubborn spirit, yet for her Aunt's sake and for the fact that they had raised her since she was abandoned at their doorstep twelve years ago, she gave in to her Uncle's demands and begrudgingly obeyed his orders. For this reason, she took another sip of her tea and continued listening to her Aunt as she discussed the plans and preparations for the trip, all while silently contemplating whom she would have to hire to take control of the trading business.