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“I know it cannot be the maid,” Freya laughed.

“What maid?”

“Sorry, I forgot you promoted her. The concubine. You wouldn’t do something so rash.”

The first time had been chaos. She knew it, Zavian knew it, everyone knew it. It would only be asking for war if he did it the second time around, and Zavian was no fool. That much she was certain about her brother.

“Hmm,” came Zavian’s reply, but his attention was entirely on his scroll.

“You know what?” Freya pushed herself out of the chair and stood before him. “Surprise me, brother. I want to know who you will pick. But my bet is on either Zelda or Emma, most likely Zelda.”

“Hmm,” Zavian mused disinterestedly, brows scrunched together as he paused in his writing.

When Freya knew he wasn’t even listening to her, she went back to her book. And as she watched her brother write on, she really hoped, for his own good, he would make a smart choice.

.....

….

The days passed by quickly, and soon, two moons came and went, and nothing eventful happened in the castle. At least on Neera’s part, she found the days bring with them a bore, a slowness, and a restlessness that grew like a slow germinating seed in her.

She most especially detested visits from Penelope who would come by and knock on her door in that meek manner of hers. Neera never let her in, and the scrawny little maid would make herself comfortable by telling her stories of some time they shared together in a past she had no business in knowing. The way Penelope had described the Neera she knew and loved, the present Neera could have killed such a weakling herself.

Penelope used words like sweet, kind and innocent to describe the Neera before the ‘unfortunate incident’, but Neera preferred to call it the ‘awakening’. The old Neera wasn’t sweet and kind and all that nonsense. She was dumber than a doorknob and more na?ve than a day-old baby.

Neera sighed. Thank goodness she died the way she did.

Penelope was busy telling her a story about how the two of them used to whisper in the dark, about love, their future–as if those two had any other than being maids, at least Neera would give kudos to herself for elevating to the position of a concubine, that was the only sane thing she did. Penelope transitioned to speak of Neera’s family, and Neera wished she would just go away.

“Remember you told me about your sisters? And how you wanted to see them again?” Penelope asked. Neera closed her eyes as she rested her head on the pillow, peeking to see if the vial of cough medicine was within reach. The cough had refused to leave, and she was left to deal with something as simple as it, with medicines all through the weeks.

“You always spoke about visiting them, but I didn’t really like the idea of it,” Penelope said. Was Pen always so talkative like this? She was like a broken bird. “I think you wanted family close to you, or something to call yours. But I was that to you, Neera; family. We always had each other, and I am really glad I know you, and I really do not want to lose you.”

Neera waited, and Penelope had stopped talking. Finally, she could do with some sleep…

“Neera,” Penelope started again. Neera fisted both hands at her sides. “Please open the door. I know you are in there. Please, just talk to me.”

There was only one way to go about this.

So Neera took the pillow and covered both her ears with it, holding it in place with her elbows. Penelope really had a lot of time in her hands to waste it like this. Neera figured she might just save her some if she just killed her.

No more weepy stories by her door. The thought itself was a delicious one.

The pillow worked, and Neera could finally lull herself to a quick nap, but even though Pen was a nightmare in reality, she would still have to deal with another nightmare in her sleep. Someone was coming for her, and she always saw him, black cloak, face obscured by the darkness. He seemed so real, and even when she woke up, she could almost swear he had been in the chambers with her.

She needed to channel her powers into her sleep and see if she could fight this being herself. So Neera ignited it inside her, and it brewed like a storm, raw and unsteady, the surge of untapped power rising to the surface. But she controlled it, wielded it as if she had done so her entire life, simmered it down and waited, waited for sleep to come get her.

Neera didn’t know for how long she had to wait, but she was prancing up and down the room, and outside, darkness fell. She cursed under her breath. Where were the maids when they were supposed to come and light the candles?

The darkness covered everywhere, and the sky was moonless, and devoid of even the twinkle of stars. She tried to find her way, but she could feel nothing. In front of her, she heard something, and as Neera squinted her eyes, she could make out two flickering burning candles.

Was that outside or inside her chambers?

Neera walked toward it, taking ginger steps so she wouldn’t hit anything on the way. It blotted out, leaving her in more darkness.

“I see you are having fun with your powers,” a voice, so close to her ear, said.

Neera slashed her claws in that direction. She hadn’t heard the door open. Her heartbeats picked a pace, not out of fear but a furious need to fight the trespasser.

“Save the bloodthirsty claws for later,” the voice said. This time, it was by her left, and she lashed at it quicker this time.