Writing Prompt: Sound of Memory

    This blog is for me that others may read. I spend at least an hour on each prompt then go back and edit it then post it. If I come back to it I come back to it but if I don't then oh well. I have so many stories in my head and get depressed if I don't write something so this is more therapy for me. Enjoy!

     Writing Prompt:

       How does a memory sound?


      A memory sounds like an echo. The most obvious description because that's all you can say. A memory is the echo of old songs from vinyl records to music boxes of lullabies with words you almost forgot. It's a song that's stuck on repeat. It's the sting of a thorn wants stuck in your side but you still feel it from time to time. It's the sound of glass breaking. It's the sound of angry shouts. It's the sound of laughter. It's the sound of cheers. It's a sound that once rung loud now subdued wandering the darkness of yesteryear until you recall it to light. Some things gray. Others fade in color. The strongest memories produce the strongest echoes. The good ones and the bad. Mostly the bad. The memory of pain and love are hardest to to shove into the background. The echo of fear, echo of joy both resound as if it only happened yesterday. It's a chemical reaction when you hear these enduring echoes. Some echoes die away but love and pain are sounds that reverberate until you draw your final breath. You may forget the sound of wind, the call of your name, or even the sound of water in the shower when it hits the tiles but love and pain are constants. They never diminish or fade with time. I'll be old and gray like everyone else but I will remember the echo of love and pain.  

Writing Prompt: Wild Imagination

   This blog is for me that others may read. I spend at least an hour on each prompt then go back and edit it then post it. If I come back to it I come back to it but if I don't then oh well. I have so many stories in my head and get depressed if I don't write something so this is more therapy for me. Enjoy!

    
    Writing Prompt:

         A child is born with an imagination so strong it leaks into reality. 

              It's not easy being an ordinary parent to an extraordinary child. The day Michael was born it was the best day of my life. The memory of the biting, cutting, stretching pain subsided once I saw him and they put him in my arms all covered in blood and after birth. I knew Michael was special though I didn't know how special at the time. 

It first happened when Michael was 3. I had gotten him a mobile with rainbow gold fish when he was a baby. He loved to watch the fish rotate above him. Would put him right to sleep. One day we were playing in his room when I saw 5 rainbow goldfish, real fish but unlike anything normal in nature, appear out of thin air and gaped as the fish swam around Michael's head as if they were in water and not air. What do you do when something like that happens? What can you do? You can't ask a doctor. What would you tell the doctor? My son has such a strong imagination that he can create it into thin air. They would have locked me away. Worse Michael would have conjured up things while in a foster home and the government would take him away; poke and prod him like a lab rat. Cut him open. No. I kept quiet. 

I did my best to keep Michael's ability a secret which was not easy. Michael had a very active often wild imagination. Sometimes it was beautiful: rainbows, talking animals, talking plants, etc. But other times it was terrifying. Michael thought there was a monster in his closet and sure enough he created a Medusa-like creature. Luckily I was handy with a shot gun. When you're the daughter of a cop you tend to know how to shoot a berreta before you can walk. That's when Michael learned to read. He learned fast and we had to have a more serious conversation about reigning in his imagination. 

"Be careful what you think of," I told him. "You're not like other kids. Your monsters are real."

"Only monsters?" he asked dark eyes wide. 

"No," I hugged him, "you can make beautiful things too. Just make sure no one is around to see what you can do."

"Why?" the automatic toddler response when faced with something he doesn't understand yet. 

"Because they won't understand," I didn't want to scare him too much in case his mind decided to conjure something dangerous. "Don't worry if you can create monsters then you can easily destroy them." Michael and I cuddled in the darkness of his small room. Holding onto each other as if some force would separate us at any moment. To light up the room Michael imagined small glowing blue jellyfish floating around us as if in their natural habitat. 

"See," I pointed. "Beautiful."

"These don't sting either," Michael spoke proudly. "But they can if someone tries to take me away."

I kissed his soft head whispering, "Mommy won't let that happen." 

To help I limited the things Michael could watch, read, even draw. Anything too fantastical I kept out of his reach. He could read them when he was older and more in control of his creative mind. Some parents have called me far to strict but they had ordinary children.

You may ask what about Michael's father? I could ask the same. I was 18 when I went to India. It was the only exotic place I had ever been. Coming from a low income family I didn't have many opportunities but I was smart; smarter than the other kids. Things had a way of sticking to me. I wanted to be a doctor and my guidance counselor told me that I could volunteer in India. My father didn't approve. He didn't approve much about anything. Irish Catholics never do. But he let me go. 

I was enchanted by the whole country; it's culture, it's people. That's when I met a local named Sanja. Very handsome and charming. His smile seemed to light up a room. He was an artist. He weaseled a date out of me by drawing a picture of me. 

"You can have it if you have dinner with me," he remarked slyly.

"Why would I do that for a picture?" I asked smiling.

"No not for a picture," he said, "but because we're destined to meet. I know you feel it too." The thing was that I did feel something. Like Sanja was a magnet pulling me towards him.

I returned home pregnant. My father furious. My dreams of becoming a doctor didn't seem possible, but I knew I had to keep him. I wanted to keep this child. I left home which was easy since my father disowned me. Took night classes, worked 2 jobs and became a nurse instead. Not bad for a single mom. I never saw Sanja again. I tried getting his address but it didn't seem to exist. If I didn't have Michael I could have sworn that Sanja was a figment of my imagination. Not sure he could have helped any way. What help would a dreamer be to another dreamer? I was the down to earth type. It was all about facts. My son may have had the ability to create things out of thin air but the fact remained that I loved him and would do anything to protect him. 

Now Michael is 10 years old. He's smarter now. He knows some amount of restraint. I became less vigilant but he was still a child. A day would come where we would have to run again. We had been running for years after every incident. I knew how to disappear. I went from Elena Ripley to many other aliases. For now I'm Susan Mallory. I can hope things won't change again but something always happens to ruin mine and Michael's world. 

The day came unexpectedly, which was odd because expecting the other shoe to drop became a second instinct for me. It came around Father's Day. Not a good day for my son or me. Michael's father was not in the picture and mine disowned me. Michael would often watch other children at school or at the park playing with their fathers with a mournful look of envy on his face. He asked me about his father a few times. Where was he? Does he know about me? I couldn't find him so what could I say? I told Michael that his father died. That put an end to it. Or so I thought...

It was rare that I could sleep in. Sundays were my only day off. I expected to sleep all day as usual but this Sunday (and Father's Day) turned into a headache. Michael woke me up. He was ecstatic for some reason. Very eager.

"Mom, mom wake up!"

"Michael...," I groaned. "What is it? You know I like to sleep on Sundays..." I rolled over taking refuge under the covers but I wasn't safe from Michael's persistence. He pulled the covers down and that's when I started to smell something cooking...

"I have a surprise for you, mom!" Michael jumped on the bed.

"You didn't turn on the stove did you?" The thought of danger was caffeine enough.

"Come and see!" Michael pulled me out of bed and led me to the kitchen where I saw a very handsome man scrambling eggs in a pan. He was tall, had a muscular build, mocha skin and big brown eyes. He turned to me and Michael and his face lit up with a smile that made him even more gorgeous. 

"Good morning," the tenor in his voice made my knees buckle. I suddenly felt a mess until I realized what Michael had done.

"Michael...," I turned to him going full mom mode with arms crossed, a firm stance and narrowed eyes with an authoritative tone, "what did you do? Did you conjure him up?"

Michael realized that I wasn't as thrilled to have another man in the house as he was. He became sheepish lowering his chin, his sad eyes looking up at me, hands behind his back. He spoke in a sheepish voice, "I was thinking we never get to celebrate Father's Day and you're always tired from working I thought..." 

I took a deep breath as the gears in my mind began turning to shake the cobwebs of sleep away. 

"How am I going to explain another man in the house, Michael?" I asked trying to keep my tone level though by Michael's shrinking posture it didn't sound that way. We did have a nosy neighbor. An old lady Mrs. Jaeger who practically spent her days at her cracked door to watch the comings and goings of each tenant. "Did anyone see him?"

"No...," Michael said. 

"You guys look hungry," the new man interrupted. "Have some eggs. Plenty of protein." 

"That's very nice of you but--" 

"And here are some waffles and the bacon should be ready," the man continued in a chipper tone, "and I fixed a few things around here last night while you were sleeping."

"You did?" How did I not hear anything last night? It was a long shift the day before and I was exhausted. Once my head hit the pillow I was out. I probably wouldn't have heard a parade in my apartment.

"The leaky pipe under the bathroom sink is fixed, then there was the crack in Michael's wall and a few loose floor boards." 

"He's very helpful, mom," Michael insisted. "Just like a real dad."

Not like my dad. He was helpful around the house but I remember he was always irritable and tired. I looked at the handsome new man and though every logical bone in my body was telling me to make Michael make him disappear I smelled the nice food, my mouth began to salivate and the floor boards were less creaky... 

"Just for the day," I turned to Michael who lit up like Christmas. "Then I want him gone by tomorrow." 

Michael hugged me then went to the table to enjoy some scrambled eggs. 

"Here you go," the man offered me a steaming cup of black coffee. I accepted it but did not expect him to kiss me on the lips. It lasted only a few seconds but the warmth lingered a while. The shock a little longer. 

"Hey don't do that!" I scolded. The man looked at me confused. I realized that Michael conjured up a father and that means in Michael's view we would be like the families he had seen in movies. 

"Sorry," the man apologized his sparkling eyes diminishing a bit. "Thought you'd like it."

"He needs a name," Michael stuffed his mouth full of eggs. 

"No," I said. Once you name something you get attached to it.

"But you need to call me something," the man reasoned. 

"My son may call you dad but I'm not getting attached," I explained. "Though I have to come up with some excuse as to who you are and why people are only seeing you now."

"Jack! I like that name," Michael named him anyway. 

"Jack it is," Jack shrugged. I was outnumbered. I needed caffeine to make it even again. Happy Father's Day I suppose.

This Woman's Work Pt 7

            This blog is for me that others may read. I spend at least an hour on each prompt then go back and edit it then post it. If I come back to it I come back to it but if I don't then oh well. I have so many stories in my head and get depressed if I don't write something so this is more therapy for me. Enjoy!


     I hope you don't have to wait long for the second draft! I also may do a part 2 of this story. Not sure but we'll see where this goes...

     Writing Prompts Used:

         1. "I could keep you safe. No one would hurt you again."

         2. "Please don't do this..."

         3. He would never forget that smell...


     He would never forget that smell… Myrrh incense meant to mask the scent of death. Ion watched Constance stand by Leila’s body, trying to appear strong but on the inside he knew she was on the edge of breaking. She had changed out of her glittering sari into ink black wearing a hood with long flowing sheer sleeves. Ion knew how close Constance was to Leila. He should be with Euphemia who was on bed rest from her encounter with the poison. She would live. Ion wasn’t too loathe to admit that Euphemia’s death would have been a relief. Just one of the obstacles standing in his way of Constance. The other had yet to be dealt with. But another thought was nagging at him. Who put the poison in Constance’s water? He realized that someone must have seen him slip the poison into Mara’s drink…

Just as Ion was working it all out, Satordi came up behind him and casually whispered, “Arsenic.”

Ion jerked his head around to see the fine rat beside him. Satordi met Ion’s fiery glare with cold indifference. 

“Is that what they’re saying?” Ion offered coolly. 

“It makes sense,” Satordi continued. “Turns out Leila was a spy for some politician or one of the religious fanatical sects of the Army of Light.”

“That whole order is a fanatical sect,” Ion said dryly. “But it was in Constance’s water…”

“Someone must have switched it…,” Satordi remarked simply as if the poisoning of women was the most ordinary thing in the world. In the world of courtesans it kind of was. 

Satordi and Ion both watched as Constance helped clean the body, preparing it for the journey home. Her sadness only added to her beauty. Both men wanted nothing more than to take her into their arms. By some animal instinct both men sensed this of the other. 

“Poor Constance…,” Satordi sighed. “To lose a friend, a sister.”

Ion said nothing. He felt a tightening in his stomach like a ball up fist clenching his intestines as Satordi spoke, “Let’s not beat around the bush as they say… I saw the two of you.”

Ion turned to face his rival. They stared each other down neither willing to surrender. 

“And?” Ion was actually glad Satordi saw him with Constance. It gave him a certain pleasure to see the jealousy burning in the politician’s cold blue eyes. 

“Just because you gave her a ring doesn’t mean you’ve won,” Satordi spoke with cold humor as if the whole engagement idea was a joke. 

“Constance isn’t a prize,” Ion fired back. “She’s not a flower to be plucked just because you fancy her.”

“I can offer her security and safety,” Satordi affirmed.

“Until you get bored,” Ion glowered, “then you’ll throw her away. I’ve seen it many times for other courtesans. I can offer her constant love. That’s what she truly wants.”

Satordi took a step closer to Ion and whispered harshly, “Then why hasn’t she run away with you yet?”

Satordi may have just stabbed Ion in the chest. As Ion was about to counter a servant girl came with a message for him. 

“Lady Euphemia is asking for you,” she said. With one last begrudging look at Satordi Ion left with the servant girl. The Viceroy looked triumphant. At least he won this round…

*********

     Euphemia was still too weak to sit up. She had spent years building up a tolerance to every kind of poison. Many rivals had tried to defeat her through such evil deeds. Euphemia had used the method a few times herself. Some to make her rival sick and some… well they never challenged anyone ever again. 

Euphemia had sent a servant to fetch Ion. He was most likely with Constance. Consoling her no doubt. Euphemia didn’t trust that Constance wouldn’t run away with him right then and there. Grief made one do crazy things. Yet while Constance remained a thorn another thought ate away at her mind: Who tried to poison Constance? Euphemia already figured Mara or Lupa had tried to poison her. Paranoia also suggested her lover but Mara made the most sense. She made it very clear that if Euphemia stood in her way that Mara would remove her. Just as the gears were turning, Euphemia heard the door creak open. 

“About time you showed—“ Euphemia rolled over on her side expecting to see her fickle lover but instead she saw Mara standing there. 

“Hello, Euphemia,” Mara spoke quietly. 

What color remained in Euphemia’s face was immediately drained. Then anger flashed in her eyes, “What do you want? Come to finish the job?”

Mara sat by Euphemia’s bedside without invitation. She was always so bold. 

“I’ve just come to see how you were doing,” Mara said demurely. 

“To see that I’m still alive?” Euphemia spoke wryly. “Well here I am. I’m not going on my final voyage yet, Mara. Next time put more poison in the cup. Yet another lesson I failed to teach you.”

Mara simply smiled. She wasn’t even going to try and deny it! She must have been a man because Mara had such a brass set. 

“Leila’s dead…,” Mara whispered. 

Euphemia heard the pain in Mara’s voice. She looked into her old protege’s cool gunmetal eyes to see them blurry with tears. It suddenly occurred to Euphemia that Leila belonged to Mara. They were friends or lovers but Mara knew Leila intimately enough to be this affected by the girl’s passing. Something within Euphemia stirred. A sympathy perhaps? Without much thought Euphemia touched Mara’s hand.

The two women sat in silence for a while. Two women known for their hard hearts allowing feelings to have their moment when the rest of the world suspected they had no such feelings at all. 

“When I first came here…,” Mara began. “I was a lost soul. My family didn’t want me. But I remember you were so beautiful and confidence. I marveled at how everyone bowed to you. How some cowered in your presence.”

“I didn’t know I made such an impression…,” Euphemia took her hand back listening to Mara’s interesting confession. 

“I was always difficult I know but,” Mara sniffed, keeping the tears at bay. “I always admired your fortitude and that’s what I tried to be.”

“Fortitude and Stubbornness are two completely different things, child,” Euphemia surmised. “Sometimes one must bow so that they may rise again.”

“And would you bow for me now?” Mara asked. Euphemia stayed silent. She mulled it over still unsure if allying with Mara, a radical would be the best option for her. 

“What I want will benefit both of us,” Mara reasoned. 

“Attacking conservatives and blowing up courtesan medical houses?” Euphemia asked incredulously. She coughed, some specks of blood getting on her fine sand colored satin sheets. 

“You would see the last great courtesan house close its doors forever?” Mara returned. “My way they stay open.” 

Pride. Euphemia always spoke of Mara as being too proud but she wasn’t always that way. Euphemia remembered the first day Mara came to her as well. The girl was quiet, defiant yet like a seed caught in a breeze until she found a place to land and grow. 

“You would have been one of my best courtesans…,” Euphemia mourned in surrender. “I saw something in you.”

“What was that?”

“Me…,” Euphemia sighed. “I suppose that’s why I was hardest on you. You were my greatest failure.”

“I always knew I was meant for something great,” Mara reasoned. “It may not have been as a courtesan but…”

“I know you think the courtesan system is cruel,” Euphemia interrupted wanting to say her piece, “but it has kept balance in the Quads for 200 years. It’s not the easiest job in the galaxy but it provides a woman with opportunity. To rise above her caste and be someone.”

“My way they can be more than someone’s pet,” Mara insisted softly. Euphemia’s blue eyes held firm. There was no swaying her. 

“And you call me stubborn…,” Mara sighed. Two stubborn women. Too set in their ways. 

*********

Constance sat with Aurelia near Leila’s body. Aurelia was still in her green sari wearing the diamond emerald bracelet. Everything happened so fast that most of the students were still in their finery. The patrons had gone home. Death and attempted assassination had killed the seductive atmosphere. Embalmers wrapped Leila’s corpse in fine white linen.   

“Seems pointless…,” Aurelia spoke casually. “Her family is just going to burn her body as soon as it gets home.”

“You always know just what to say don’t you?” Constance retorted. 

Aurelia would have fired back but the loss of Leila pained her as well. She only sat silently with Constance as the embalmers finished their job and left the women to say their final good byes. 

“You know Leila would find this a bit morbid,” Constance pointed out. 

“She’d want a yellow shroud,” Aurelia complemented, “something sunnier.”

Constance rested her hand on Aurelia’s who squeezed it in her own. Neither wished to let loose the dam of tears they had built over the last few years in training. Courtesans were pillars of fortitude. They were the suns in their patrons’ lives so they must always shine… 

“My deepest sympathies for your loss, ladies,” Satordi spoke gently. Constance looked up while Aurelia already felt a tear about to escape her eye. Aurelia only nodded to acknowledge the Viceroy’s presence. Constance compensated, “Thank you, Viceroy. My sister and I appreciate your sympathies.” 

Aurelia was too consumed with grief to battle Constance for Satordi’s attention. Instead Constance said, “Aurelia, why don’t you go with our other sisters and tell them to come and pay their respects.” Aurelia agreed giving a short curtsy to the Viceroy then quickly leaving before her dam of tears broke let loosing a waterfall. 

“Amazing,” Satordi marveled. 

“What?” Constance wiped away tears that threatened to break free. 

“Everyone’s still wearing their finest clothes but you took the time to change out of your bejeweled sari and still you’re the most beautiful creature here,” Satordi moved closer but Constance looked more offended than flattered. 

Constance moved away and chided, “This is hardly the time and place for courtship, Viceroy.”

Constance breezed past Satordi who breathed in the smell of her lilac perfume. Despite the heavy incense, her perfume was the constant. Satordi wanted that scent to fill his lungs. 

“My apologies…,” he murmured. “I can’t help it sometimes. Being the statesman. I always know just what to say usually but around you I’m… at a loss.”

“Try honesty then…,” Constance suggested. Honesty. Seemed such a foreign concept to him. Satordi was so used to flattery and lies that honesty became a myth or a dream. Satordi took a deep breath… 

“My sister, Lucretia, died when I was 12,” he began. “She was the brightest and prettiest of my family. Also the most kind… Even my father who was so hard and stoic couldn’t help but smile when she spoke.”

Constance turned to Satordi and listened intently. 

“Lucretia was 10 when she died,” Satordi remembered. “Pneumonia.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Constance came closer. They were close enough to touch but there was some invisible veil between them that prevented one or the other from venturing further. 

“People came and gave us their sympathies,” Satordi continued becoming lost in the memory. “But none of them truly knew her. They just wanted to seek favors from my father.” 

“When I first came to Hedone I was terrified,” Constance began to reminisce about Leila. “Leila came shortly after and she was so full of energy. She was the first person that made me laugh.”

“You didn’t laugh? I find that hard to believe...”

“I was 11 years old practically sold and I had my family relying on me to secure their future…,” Constance tugged at her pocket, the pocket with Ion’s ring inside. Even now a part of his presence was a comfort. “It’s a lot to put on a child… Leila made it more bearable.”

“Constance…,” Satordi wanted so badly to touch her. To reach underneath her black hood and move the hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “You won’t have to be afraid of that. Be my courtesan.”

It was nothing short of a marriage proposal. Satordi’s eyes were pleading with her to say yes, “Leila’s death was an attack. I could keep you safe. No one would ever hurt you again.”  

“I can’t…,” Constance wanted to say she loved someone else. “I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.” Not that courtesans and their patrons were matches based on love but how could she be with one man while her heart belonged to another? Constance fled the room leaving Satordi in the haze of myrrh. 

*********

Ion had left Euphemia. She was with Mara at the time and they had exchanged a few words. Ion couldn’t hide his disappointment that Euphemia was alive but it also made him sick to feel that way. After all He didn’t always resent her. Yet Euphemia was not a woman to let go so easily. She was still planning on giving Constance to Satordi. If the Army of Light wasn’t going to help him then he was going to have to take Constance away himself. Just as he was about to make his way to her, Ion was pulled roughly into the darkness of an unlit hall way. His assailant threw him against the stone wall so hard Ion was temporarily paralyzed from the shock of the impact. 

“Where do you think you’re headed off to?” Ion recognized the hoarse voice. Finn had caught up to him. Finn had the temporary advantage of surprise but Ion quickly regained his ground and fought back. He kneed Finn in the groin. Finn fell back then Ion punched him in the nose. He heard a crack. Ion attempted to escape but Finn recovered quickly and tackled Ion to the ground, pinning him underneath his bulk. For a man who took a vow of poverty, Finn was surprisingly agile and strong. Ion was face up. Finn wanted him to look at him. There was some small light that Ion could make out Finn’s freshly broken nose all bent out of shape from Ion’s fist and the small streams of blood flowing out of the nostrils. 

“You little bastard,” Finn swore. “How could you screw up a poisoning?”  

“Someone switched the drinks,” Ion protested defiantly, “how could I have predicted that?”

“Well I have to give the Commander something,” Finn suggested with murderous intent burning in his eyes. “Perhaps a body part will do. How about the thing that got you into trouble?” Finn looked down to Ion’s groin with sadistic humor. 

Just when Ion thought he was done for Finn froze. His eyes wide with fear. Then Ion heard a click. Someone had a gun. 

“Now boys,” Ion recognized the sly voice of the Viceroy. “Let’s be civilized. Hands up, Finn, and off the young man. Slowly.”

Finn did as he was told. Ion was free from Finn’s heavy weight and quickly got to his feet. 

“Now turn around,” Satordi ordered. 

“Viceroy, what are you doing?” Finn’s eyes were wide with confusion and a touch of fear. 

“Explain to me what happened tonight?” Satordi spoke with all the cool hardness of steel. His blue eyes as cold as ice. Even Ion was afraid to move. 

“About what?” Finn feigned ignorance. Satordi pressed the barrel of the gun onto Finn’s forehead. The cool metal sending chills through out Finn’s body. 

“Don’t treat me like a fool,” Satordi warned. “You put the arsenic in Lady Constance’s water. The same water that she gave to Lady Leila.”

“I can honestly tell you that it wasn’t me who put the poison into the whore’s drink,” Finn turned to Ion who’s insides clenched under the Viceroy’s cool gaze. 

“So you’ve been working with these fanatics have you,” Satordi actually seemed pleased. What a way to get rid of a rival. 

“I put the poison in Mara Perth’s drink,” Ion swore passionately. “Someone switched the drinks!”

“Who?” Satordi asked, gun still pressed to Finn’s sweating flesh. 

“If I knew they’d be dead,” Ion swore.  

“And what did this man offer you if you if you assassinated Mara Perth?” Satordi inquired curiously. 

Ion refused to answer but Satordi put it together well enough. Constance. 

“Explains your boldness in giving Constance the ring…,” Satordi mused. 

“Are you going to turn me in now?” Ion asked figuring he already knew the answer. 

Satordi thought it over. The gears in his mind working towards what he thought was genius. 

“No,” Satordi pulled the trigger, scattering Finn’s brains all over the once pristine wall. Some bits of blood speckled the Viceroy’s face and hands.

“You… you killed him,” Ion was stunned.

Finn’s now lifeless body slumped to the floor as Satordi approached Ion. Ion thought about running but he would be dead before he could sprint. Satordi held all the advantage but Ion was not about to show fear. 

But instead of killing him as Ion expected, the Viceroy took Ion’s emerald green sash and wiped his gun and hand clean of Finn’s blood and bits of brain matter. Before Ion could say anything Satordi placed the gun in his hand.

“No you killed him,” Satordi explained matter-of-factly. “A cadet of mine saw you. You stole my gun and killed this man.” On a roll with fabricating his story Satordi continued, “He was trying to take your place as Euphemia’s second in charge as her lover and you killed him.”

“That’s a bold faced lie!” Ion cried.

“Of course it is but no one will believe you,” Satordi scoffed. Ion’s heart sank. So this was how Satordi would get rid of him. Framing him for murder.

“But don’t lose heart, friend…,” Satordi soothed. “I can save you.”

***********

Euphemia tried to sleep but the night’s events still left her shivering. She listened to the ambience of Mira’s crickets and night birds. The nightly breeze whispering sweet nothings to her. But a rude noise crashed the tranquility. Euphemia cried, “Who’s there?” 

A gloved hand covered her mouth to silence her screaming. Then Euphemia’s attacker pulled her head back exposing her white throat that shone bright in the light of Pyreois. Then swiftly sliced it open with one elegant stroke. Blood gushed like water from a new spring staining the sheets and Euphemia’s porcelain skin. Her attacker stayed there until Euphemia gurgled her last breath. Then left her for some servant to find…

*********

Constance stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Where she and Ion first saw each other. She admired the simple gold ring on her finger. It felt right somehow. The thought of being with Ion felt right. The moment Satordi asked her to be his a light suddenly turned on. Leaving Mira. Leaving Ion. None of it sounded right. The minute Constance saw Ion she ran to him. 

“Ion!” Constance was so excited that she didn’t realize that Ion had a weight in his step. When she looked up to see him she noticed his chocolate eyes were darker, without light.

“What’s wrong?” she asked a bit confused by Ion’s sudden distance. 

“I can’t be with you, Constance,” Ion spoke simply. For a moment Constance didn’t think she heard right. Then it sunk in. 

“What happened?” Constance was eager to know. Fear began to slowly grope Constance’s throat gradually stopping her from breathing. 

“Nothing,” Ion avoided Constance’s watchful emerald eyes though it hurt him worse than any physical wound to do so. “I just thought it over and you were right. It would never work for us.”

“That’s not what you said before…,” Constance wasn’t buying it. She could always tell when Ion was lying. “You were so adamant that we should run away and every time you asked I said no but when I finally say yes you change your mind? Something happened.”

   Ion could push her away sure but to completely destroy her would be to destroy himself. 

“What…” Constance’s hand went to her stomach. 

“I’m a man who wants a family, Constance,” Ion’s voice was hollow. “You can’t give me that.”

That was it. Ion hit the mark. He might has well have run her through.

“Constance,” Ion took Constance by the arms holding her in place as she seemed on the edge of falling completely, “you told me that you did this for your family. Don’t let that sacrifice be for nothing. Don’t let it be for me…” 

“Please don’t do this…,” Constance begged. Her world seemed to be falling a part. “Don’t tell me you love me then say it was all a mistake please…” 

“Constance…,” Ion tried to sound firm but Constance wasn’t convinced.  

“Why are you saying these things?” Constance broke from Ion’s grip. “Why are you trying to break my heart?”

Ion stood tall, his face made of stone, eyes dim, “Don’t make this any harder, Constance. I could never be with someone who isn’t truly a woman.” The color drained from Constance’s face. Her emerald eyes brimming with tears. Ion had shattered her world. He turned without a word, every inch further away from Constance was like a sharp pin being drilled into his stomach. 

Constance collapsed against the stone railing. She suddenly felt very cold. Mira may have been a warm moon but Constance felt as if she had entered an eternal winter. Unable to stand the echoing silence any more Constance let it all out. She let out whimpers that turned into full sobs. 

*********

Lupa was sitting in Euphemia’s office loving the familiar feel of being on top when Mara came in looking sullen.

“Why so glum?” Lupa asked. “Is it because Euphemia lives? We can fix that later.” 

“I’m more worried about who tried to poison me,” Mara sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“Obviously the poison was meant for me,” Mara reasoned. “Someone switched my water with Lady Constance’s.”

“You think so…,” Lupa occupied herself with going through Euphemia’s desk. “I know she has some of the best scotch in here. Euphemia always keeps the good stuff for herself. But who would want to kill Lady Constance?”

“Someone who would want her own protege to be in bed with the new Viceroy,” Mara reasoned. Lupa was in the game long enough to sense when a threat or an accusation was coming. She looked up at Mara with her honey smile. 

“I suppose there’s no way around it then…,” Lupa sighed. “Yes I saw Euphemia’s boy toy put something in your water and I switched it with Constance’s. You’re welcome.”

“Unfortunately it back fired,” Mara retorted. “You killed an innocent girl instead.”

“You can always find another spy,” Lupa shrugged but seeing Mara’s steely eyes grow dark she added, “and another lover.” 

Mara went behind a vanity mirror and came out with a full bottle of scotch. 

“I would always come in here and steal some of Euphemia’s good stuff,” Mara admitted. 

“Clever girl,” Lupa praised. “Have a drink with me.” Mara took the liberty of pouring the drinks. 

“Isn’t it too early for you to be measuring for drapes and breaking into the liquor cabinets?” Mara asked handing a glass to Lupa. 

“Seems inevitable doesn’t it?” Lupa boasted. Lupa lifted her glass to Mara who did so in return. “To new beginnings and the future.”

Lupa took a celebratory gulp. But when she put down her glass she saw that Mara didn’t so much as raise her own. 

“I used to steal from Euphemia but she knew it too,” Mara explained. Lupa began to feel woozy. The room began to spin. 

“What… what did you do?” Lupa couldn’t even stay in her chair, falling to the floor flailing about like a newborn foal. 

“Euphemia kept a decoy,” Mara said. “The real liquor was always hidden in random places. This won’t kill you but it will serve my purpose.”

“I thank you for playing your part, Lupa,” Mara admitted. “I couldn’t have done it without you but I think our relationship has run its course.” Mara took Lupa’s seat, looking down on her with her hard stares like statues of old saints judging onlookers. “I was going to do this part another way but you helped murder Leila and I can’t let that go unpunished.”

“You… bi—“ Lupa collapsed unconscious before she could finish her insult. 

   Mara sat there in silence for a few moments. She contemplated her actions, her plans. It would all be over soon.

*********

Morning came but Constance couldn’t feel the sun’s warmth. First Leila then Euphemia. They found Euphemia in her bed, throat cut. The world seemed to be going mad! Apparently Lupa wanted all of Euphemia’s shares in the iridium mine. She had given some to Lupa but the rest she left to the Hedone Estate and who ever controls Hedone gets the shares. Just simple greed. Lupa’s hands were stained with Euphemia’s blood and they found the knife in her room. 

Constance sat in the garden staring at the Koi pond, the fish weaving their way through the lily pad stems. She just wanted to submerge herself in the water. Everything was silent under the water. She could block out the world and drown out her sobs. Her eyes were puffy and sore and her throat sore. Aurelia didn’t ask or tease her about it. Too much death. Too much grief for rivalries to continue.

“If only I were a fish…,” Constance spoke aloud. Her voice was hoarse from crying. 

“Would you prefer an ocean or a pond?” Constance turned to see the Viceroy smiling kindly at her. 

“Wouldn’t matter,” Constance replied quietly. They stared at each other unsure of what to say until Constance realized, “I’m sorry I have no manners at all this week. Sit down please.”

“No need to apologize,” Satordi sat next to Constance and watched the fish with her. 

“Why a fish?” he asked curiously. “Most people I know wish to be birds. To fly away from all their troubles.” 

“You have to land somewhere sometime though,” Constance explained. “Flying for so long you get tired. And when you land you have to face those problems again.”

“But fish swim constantly,” countered Satordi. “You stop. You sink.”

“It wouldn’t be far to fall,” chuckled Constance. They sat in silence. Satordi breathed in Constance’s lilac perfume. They were close enough to touch but still there remained a veil that Satordi so wanted to rip back and take her into his arms. It was mostly lust but something else too. 

“I never told anyone about my sister,” Satordi broke the silence. Constance peered up from watching the multi colored fish. Her eyes were perfect emerald pools that Satordi wanted to fall into. 

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Constance nodded. 

“I want to share more things with you,” Satordi ventured. 

Constance wasn’t wearing the ring Ion had given her but she went to her naked finger. The sudden emptiness threatened to consume her. 

“What if I promise that even if we’re not together anymore that I would still look after your family?” Satordi offered. Constance looked at him, tilting her head pondering his proposal. 

“You will never have to worry about finding another patron even if we end up hating each other,” Satordi pursued. 

“Why are you offering me this?” Constance was wary. Men in the thrall of lust promised anything only to renege on it later as her instructors always warned her. 

“There’s something about you,” Satordi confessed. “I don’t have to play games. I want honesty.”

“I don’t think I would call myself honest,” Constance sighed mournfully. 

“You’re more honest than most,” Satordi got down on one knee in front of Constance, as if he were a suitor proposing. “You’re one of the most interesting, boldest women I’ve ever met. But you’re also warm. I’ve seen that. I want that warmth.”

This was Euphemia’s plan all along. She wasn’t alive to see it unfortunately. But now she was dead. Was it what Constance wanted? She knew she didn’t want to feel this horrible emptiness any more. Without even thinking Constance took Satordi’s face in her hands and kissed him. Her lilac perfume filled his lungs and he returned her kiss as if she were air and he needed to inhale after being unconscious for so long.  

“Yes,” Constance said the word though it didn’t feel like she was saying it. Satordi’s face lit up like the sun. Finally he had her. 

********

Ion sat in the green house. Looking around the abandoned green house looked how Ion felt: broken and dead inside. Weeds choking the life out of every green thing. Stopping his heart from beating. 

Satordi entered the green house with a skip in his step and a brighter smile on his weasel face. 

“Constance will be mine,” Satordi boasted his chest puffed up with pride. “She said yes.”

Ion said nothing. 

“Cheer up, chap,” Satordi gave Ion a short hard pat on the back. “This is a good thing. You had to break her heart. An agent can’t be attached to anything.”

“I’m only spying for you so Constance will be safe and away from Hedone,” Ion spoke acidly. Satordi shrugged. 

“On my honor as a gentleman I will take very good care of Constance,” the way he said it with such glee made Ion’s insides cringe. Satordi was a weasel who had gotten his prey. 

“Now…,” Satordi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal ball. “You can contact me long distance with this.” Satordi placed the object into Ion’s hands, the metal was warm from being so close to Satordi making the thing all the more abhorrent. “You’ll continue to spy for the Army of Light but you will also report to me on what’s happening here at Hedone. Understood.”

“Understood.” Ion placed the thing in his pocket, it’s weight feeling more like a ton. 

“One more thing,” Satordi spoke in a low voice, “if you get caught you’re dead. I can’t be seen to be helping a traitor and a murderer.”

“Of course not,” Ion growled. “And here’s one more thing from me before you go off into the sunset with my girl… If I hear that you’ve hurt her in any way I will burn your castle to the ground. I don’t care what you do to me I will hunt you down and mount your head over your mantle. Understand?”

The two men stood facing each other. Satordi saw the fire in Ion’s eyes. He wasn’t making idle threats. A part of Satordi was even afraid… just a little. Satordi smiled and said, “It seems I not only have a spy but a warrior too. You will indeed be useful to me.” 

***************