62 Dark Sky Bright Sands (1/2)

Mama, shouldn't you be at dinner with Merita, Usoa asked before picking up a piece of bread from the shared plate to dip in the sauce that covered the meat dish.

”Bah!” Euria responded. ”That woman acts as if she is the only one losing her dear daughter! I can't listen to another moment of her wailing! All day since you two were out she's been crying. Oh my poor baby! My child! She'll be so alone! As if you weren't going as well! So tonight, I eat with my children.” She smiled around the table at them.

”Mama, you shouldn't tease mother so. You know her constitution is weak,” Ochoa chuckled as he picked up his wine glass, his laughter making the liquid bubble before he drank. An old wound in the palace. From the moment that her father had married her mother, taking the second wife it was rumored because Merita couldn't have anymore children after Edur, that Esti was a miracle, that it would kill her. It didn't help that Euria had proven to be quite fertile. Next to her twin sat Usoa's younger blood brother, Mitxel, fifteen and ready to prove himself. Her own blood sister Naia a year younger than him sat by his side while the baby, already five, and probably the last child Euria would have, a boy and a dreamweaver, Zorion, rested in Usoa's lap.

She smiled down at him, his fist twisted in her skirts, a frown on his face. Don't be mad, she signed.

I won't see you anymore, he replied, sitting up.

When sister is used to her new home I will come back and visit. And I'm not leaving yet, she smiled.

The child squeezed against her side, some part of him more hers than her mother's. She had cared for the boy, even carrying him tied to her body when he was an infant. Her mother joked that Zorion was Usoa's son and she had just carried him for the girl.

She patted his head and turned back to the table and her dinner. Mitxel and Naia bickered over the meat tray and everything else while Ochoa egged them both on. Her mother reached over and smacked him in the head making the rest of the children laugh.

”Mama! To put your hand on a prince!” he said in mock hurt and offense.

”And I'll do it again! Stop making those two fight! You know the boy isn't as smart as you!” she yelled.

”Mama!” Mitxel nearly screamed, his face, still boy sweet turning red while Naia laughed, falling from her cushion.

”Don't say that, he's worried the breakfast girl will hear you and not want to kiss him again!”

”Naia!” Mixtel yelled this time, throwing a cushion at his sister, hitting her in her face.

Naia immediately began to cry as she balled her fist up and threw it at her brother, the hit landing square on his chin, pushing him back on the floor.

Ochoa roared with laughter as he helped his fallen brother up. ”You definitely don't want your little serving girl to know about this!”

”Her name is Gaja,” he mumbled, pride completely shattered.

Usoa's mother rolled her eyes, scooping up the spiced vegetables and eating them. ”So worried about a girl. You're a prince! Any girl would be happy to lie down for you. But don't take advantage! Be a good man. Treat this Gaja well while you are with her.”

”Yes, mama,” he said embarrassed that his secret was out.

From the entrance, a serving girl came, her head bowed, a small slip of paper in her hands. She handed it to Usoa without a word and then turned, leaving. Usoa opened the note, the handwriting familiar on the parchment. Meet me at the usual place, at halls dark.

She frowned and ripped the note to tiny pieces, putting the scraps into a small pile on the table.

”Who was that?” her mother asked, curious.

She shook her head. Esti wants my company, she lied.

Her mother rolled her eyes. ”You see! It's already started! Listen Usoa, daughter of my blood,” her mother started, a clear sign that she should listen to what her mother was about to say. ”You are not that girl's maid. You are not her servant. She is not better or more important than you for being the chosen Sorgia. She has no more power than you and no right to treat you as her slave.”

Yes, mother, she agreed.

”So somber!” Ochoa snickered. ”What is this mood? It's like a funeral! Here, look, let me show you something nice!”

The air shifted as he drew light to himself shaping it in the air to form dancers who spun and floated around them chased by lions. The dancers' dresses rippled and changed into magnificent colors to match the cats who played with them.

Her family began to clap and Naia sang in a strong clear voice. Ochoa matched the steps of the illusion to the beat, his eyes glowing softly, the light spilling from him as he twisted it to his will. He filled the room with his light, creating illusions in every space, dancing animals, jeweled toned winged insects flying between them. A scene befitting the Emperor, a match for the the man who had stolen her scarf. She touched her ear, shivering at the memory of the tickle of his words against her ear.

Ochoa let the magic taper off, the dancers disappearing with their pets, one by one.

”My beautiful son. At least I have you. You are a match for that other, Edur. She named him after your father to please him but you deserve that name. You'll shine brighter than him anyway.”

”Hush mother, your words are treasonous. My brother is very capable,” Ochoa laughed.

”Treachery? It's treason now to be proud of your children?” she scolded. ”Usoa, tell your brother that my words are pride, not treason.”

You know how she is, she signed before shoving meat into her mouth.

”Your sister has always been wiser than you,” she purred patting Usoa's leg gently.

Ochoa shook his head and the family fell into the familiar conversations between foods. It won't be like this there, she thought, not for the first time that things would be different but these small, everyday things would be the ones that she missed most.

The family finished their dinner, servants came for the plates. Zorion had fallen asleep so Usoa swept his small body up and walked with her mother to her quarters where the boy still stayed to put him to bed.

Euria slipped her arm through Usoa's wrapping them both in her silence. ”Daughter of my blood, listen to me. Do not trust that girl. She is just like her mother. I know that you are all raised as siblings, you are, of course, but as wide as the divide between you and the children of your father's third wife, that poor girl, is as wide as the divide between you and the children of his first wife. It would be one thing if she was not a weaver and if that woman had not birthed such a healthy son. Then you and your brother would be the jewels of the palace. Never forget the blood you carry in you. Never forget that we come from across the desert where the dreams and fire border each other. You are a flame, a pure light and worthy of more than Esti ever will be.”

She nodded, accepting her mother's words. She knew the woman had come as a bride from one of the cities along the border, that they traded freely with the land that lay beyond the desert through the mystical haze that stood between realms. Her mother had told her that's where the red in their hair come from, that their people and the people of the Realm that bordered them mingled and they carried that fire, clear in their hair.