Lien sat at her desk, eyes scanning over the firebending scroll laid out before her. For months, she had studied the illustrations and descriptions. She leaped up from her chair. It fell back with a crash in her haste but she paid it no mind. This time, she would do it.
She strode to her window. The view beyond was obscured by a thick metal plate covered with a serene landscape painting. Long hours had been spent staring out at the carefully inked trees. It had been years since she'd seen anything new in the picture. The hut nestled between the foliage, the stark mountain protruding from the ground as if it had been created by a powerful earthbender. Well, that's how she imagined it. Not that she'd ever seen an earthbender's handiwork before.
Her fingertips pressed against the grainy parchment, closing her eyes. They'd said this was all she needed. The room, the view, the books. Even serving maids to wait on her. A derisive snort nearly interrupted her even breathing. She held it in for her parents' sakes. It was a difficult position to be in, she knew. They'd made a tough choice for the family, but it seemed the only solution. Until she could prove herself.
Moments passed, filled with nothing but calculated breaths. In through the nose, hold, out through the mouth. All the books she'd read made note of this technique. Restraint and patience. Yet it had been years of this – each day the same as the last. Hadn't she been patient enough?
The pads of her fingers felt faintly warm and she almost allowed herself to take a quick peek. Surely that dull painting would soon burn away. She fooled herself before, imagined sparks flying and smoke rising and flames burning bright enough to shine through her eyelids. Her hopes had sunk low within her when she'd opened her eyes to see that there had been no change. It had felt so real…
This time, she would not give in to the temptation. Not until her hand itself caught fire.
A knock on the door disrupted her concentration. She sighed and whirled away from the unmarred image. "Yes?"
"Your mother wishes to speak with you." The guard's voice was deep and monotone. He waited for an answer, though when none came, he unlocked her door. Several bolts slid out of place with near thunderous clangs.
Lien rushed to the doorway. When it swept open, hinges squealing, she slipped past her mother's tall figure and broke out into a run down the hallway. The guard's armored boots pounded the floor with deafening ringing as he sprinted after her. At the end of the corridor, a window gaped. It allowed for a warm, caressing breeze to infiltrate the austere house. She flung the glass pane open further and leaned out the casement. The wind caught her loose hair. It was so freeing but, in a moment, it was over.
The man grabbed her shoulder with a gauntleted hand. He yanked her back forcefully, dragging her down the hall toward her room. She struggled to break his grip but he held with a determination that left bruises. When they reached her bedchamber, he tossed her to the floor within as easily as one would toss out trash. "Lien, you are sick. You must stay in your room."
She stayed where she had fallen, wide eyes focused on her mother. The older woman held the firebending scroll in her manicured hands. She looked down upon the girl and shook her head.
"This nonsense again," she stated.
"It's not nonsense!" Lien rose like a wilted flower after finally receiving water. "Father said if I could just find a way, then–"
"You are not a bender, Lien," her mother said, concealing the scroll in the swooping sleeves of her burgundy evening gown. Her mother had never fancied the fashionable brighter colors. The entire house – as far as Lien had seen – had been decorated to her muted tastes.
The girl felt her face growing hot, though this was no firebending. She wrestled with the unbearable boiling within her. One outburst was enough for the night. Yet she needed answers, needed to understand why she had been locked away while her sisters were permitted to flourish and bloom. Perhaps that was why she could not keep the questions from bubbling over her lips into the stagnant air between them.
"Is that why you say I'm ill? Am I an embarrassment to you?" she asked, glaring into her mother's matching chestnut eyes.
"Your father and I are doing the best we can." Her mother met her gaze unflinchingly. "Do not forget your place in this family. Too delicate for the politicking we do… This prison – as I know you see it that way – is for your own protection. My child, we can't release you to this world until we have guaranteed that you will thrive."
For your own benefit, no doubt. But she dared not speak the words aloud. She turned towards the familiar scenery of the picture, signifying that she was finished with the conversation. The older woman made no other sound. The only indication that she had left was the rattling of the multiple locks back into their usual place.
Only then did Lien let her tears flow. She clasped her hand over her mouth, silencing her sorrow. She wished she could let it all out. Scream, cry, bang on the metal plate barring her window until her hands broke. In a fit, she practiced the moves she remembered from the scroll. But they were choppy and her lungs too distressed. She couldn't produce a spark. It shouldn't have surprised her. The hours upon hours upon hours of discipline she had forced onto herself had yet to yield any results. Why did she keep hoping that she was simply a late bloomer?
She fell to her knees then laid on the plush carpet, curling herself into a ball. The room around her faded into darkness as sleep consumed her.
In the morning, she awoke to the sound of her door opening. She sat upright and clenched the thick strands of burnt orange fabric beneath her. Her back ached, her mind felt fuzzy. But she forced herself to her feet to meet her visitor. Two in less than twelve hours was quite rare those days.
When the door opened, she laid eyes upon her older sister, Jing Fei. The young woman was tall as their mother and slender with not a curve to speak of. Her hair was bound in a tight traditional bun but her style of dress seemed more modern. The sunny yellow fabric hugged her wispy body, putting on display all that she had to offer. It had a high neck but a dramatic slit down her left leg – thigh to ankle.
Jing Fei smiled faintly at the sight of Lien as she glided into the room. "How did you sleep, dear one?"
"Well enough," Lien said. She glanced down at her plain white gown and bare feet. Had she really left the room looking like that? "Sorry. I haven't had the time to change yet. The books you gifted me have held too much of my attention lately."
The smile became a beam like a ray of sun. "I'm so glad you're enjoying them. But yes…" She coughed daintily into her fist. "Mother and Father have news for you."
"Why did she not tell me last night?"
"Well they received an offer they couldn't refuse in the early hours this morning," Jing Fei said, her smile fading. She grasped her younger sister's wrist and led her to the vanity. The mirror reflected the two girls. So different, yet alike in ways that neither could explain. Her sister slumped in the straight-backed chair. She ran her fingers through Lien's long locks. A soothing gesture.
Jing Fei pulled back abruptly, raising her hands to cover her face. Lien could see no tears. But there was a light whimpering. It couldn't be masked. The older girl paled as if she had taken ill and she gasped for air. She dropped her hands, revealing red rimmed eyes.
"Please don't cry…" Lien said. She offered her sister a handkerchief but she declined, preferring to wipe at the tears with a single finger from each hand. When she seemed calmer, Lien dared to ask the question that made her chest feel weighted down with stones. "What will happen to me?"
"They… intend to marry you off." Jing Fei snatched the pristine white cloth from the vanity and clasped it over her mouth.
Lien caught a glimpse of another wave of tears before her older sister turned away. But she couldn't find it within herself to comfort the woman. She could only stare. Her mind was spinning. The room even appeared to whirl with it. Nausea stirred in her stomach. Judging by Jing Fei's reaction, the man to whom she'd been betrothed was a monster. She imagined being locked away in a new prison cell – only this time, visited all too often. Keeping up appearances for this man's reputation.
Was he hideous? Could she touch him without feeling revolted? Everything was swirling within her. Thoughts, emotions, nausea. She held her head in her hands, trying to steady herself. And then she went cold. The things that unsettled her slipped away. She was left numb. She lowered her arms and folded her hands in her lap. It wouldn't matter if he did hold her captive. She was used to this life.
When her sister recovered herself, she returned to Lien's side and leaned down. "But there's some hope, I think," she whispered, glancing toward the door. It was propped open and she could not determine if the guard was paying much attention.
"Please tell me."
"I think he is honorable enough to court you a while before wedding you," she said. "If you can convince him you are unsuitable… No, that's foolish. You must take him. It's you're only way out of this. Let me help you get ready. They've arranged for you to meet tonight."
Jing Fei swept over to the wardrobe and pushed aside the curtain that hid the clothes from sight. She sorted through the gowns in a bit of a frenzy, mumbling to herself. "Nothing. She has nothing to impress him…"
Lien stared straight forward. Her hands shook but she sensed no tears threatening her composure. It seemed almost fitting that her story should end this way. Most would say a wedding is a beginning. But for her parents, it was a way to get rid of her while expanding her family's power. She had to give in, didn't she? Or perhaps not. Too much time had been lost to all the waiting and practicing in vain. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she wasn't a bender. But that didn't mean she had to be the delicate flower they thought she was.
Whoever this man was, she intended to challenge him. Mentally and physically.
