A cold Night Breeze blew through my open window as I stood gazing out at the stars. I could name twenty-five constellations, thanks to the teachings my elder brothers had given me over the years, and whenever I was upset, I found comfort in the unchanging stars set in the silken black sky. Today was a certain exception.

"This girl is too wild, too unruly. She has no manners, and anyone with true social skills would easily mistake her for a boy," my grandmother had said. My grandmother, or Mater Motley, as she was sometimes called, was not pleasant to anyone, but with the nearing of my sixteenth birthday, she seemed to think that I needed all the unkindness I could get. My mother had objected, saying that I would become a proper Carrion princess in time. In reply, the hag declared that she would teach me personally so I was ready for my coming of age. No one would dare object to her direct orders, so I had no choice but to take the offer. It was just as bad as I had anticipated.

* * *

When I met my grandmother in her private quarters for lessons, her first action was to hand me a jade comb. Pointing over towards her elegant, floor-to-ceiling mirror, she ordered me to brush my hair, ignoring me when I argued that I had just brushed it several minutes ago.

"A proper lady must be flawless, which your hair is currently not." was her reason. Arguing any further would have been futile, so I made my way over to the reflective surface and swiftly ran the comb through my black hair, counting one hundred strokes before switching sides. As I gazed at my reflection, I began to realize what my grandmother had meant when she said I was not a proper lady. I wore my hair long, but it was rather curly by nature, giving the appearance that I never took care of it. As for my physical traits, I had my mother's high cheekbones and wide, light gray eyes but my father's square jaw and pronounced features; my mother's height (about five feet and three inches, causing others to mistake me for a child instead of a woman-in-waiting) but a thin body that was again, shared with my father. Compared to the well-known princesses of Day, well...

"Therida, I believe that is quite enough," Mater Motley said. For the briefest of moments I thought that she had read my mind and my previous thoughts, but then I realized that she was referring to my hair, which, in truth, was looking a bit better. I hurried back across the room and returned the jade comb to my grandmother, which she took without another word. She exchanged it for a needle, which must have been hidden somewhere in the folds of her strange and dramatic gown.

"A true lady must be able to sew for her husband and children. She must be obedient and helpful around the household at all times." I took the needle and tried not to gag. The next hour was spent trying to learn how to sew properly. Mater Motley was by no means a lenient teacher, so any small flaw resulted in the practice piece of cloth being tossed away and exchanged for another. After a while, the pieces of cloth were taken away from me due to the blood spots caused by my fingers, which had been pricked by my own needle one too-many times. Finally, my grandmother slapped the needle out of my swollen hand in frustration.

"Can't you do anything correctly, you stupid girl? Even the lowliest of servants in this house would have succeeded by now, whereas you are no better than when you first began. Get out of my room, and if you are lucky, I will allow you to try again in a few days." By then, the last thing I wanted was another chance.

* * *

So, I found my way back to my small, dark room, opened the tall window, and tried to find consolation in the stars. But my old childhood comfort was not enough for my new adult fears. I found myself beginning to worry about my sixteenth birthday; the day I officially became old enough to marry. Was I truly not mature enough? Was I truly not ready? My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on my bedroom door.

"Come in!" I called, a false brightness in my voice. My mother's worried face appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a flowing black silk dress that still did not hide her current state of pregnancy. In about another month, she would give birth to her youngest child. All the family doctors told her to expect another son, which meant that I would have twenty-seven brothers by the time winter came around.

"Therida, dear, you vanished so quickly. I was worried that your lessons went badly..." She finished her sentence in a murmur and then gazed down at her feet in an almost embarrassed fashion, as if she was afraid I would accuse her of prying.

"They were fine," I tried to say calmly, but my voice cracked on the word "fine". My mother sighed heavily, and the action seemed to add ten more years onto her all at once. Obviously, with her mother's intuition (along with the fact that I was a very bad lier), she knew that everything had been the exact opposite of what I had claimed.

"Your grandmother..." Another sigh. "Your grandmother is old-fashioned. She views life the same way the Old Abaratians did by expecting women to constantly work for their households and be perfect doll-like creatures in public. You, however, have been around your brothers long enough to want a free lifestyle where no one rules over you."

"I'm a tomboy, then?"

"Not exactly. You are free-willed, you are strong, but you are still a woman. And there is nothing wrong with that. Should you learn manners? I believe so. However, take everything your grandmother tells you with a grain of salt. Learn from the things she says, but don't let it destroy you. And as for the sewing, it takes a bit of time. She is a bit obsessive of that certain skill, and that is why she rushes you to learn it, but nobody becomes a perfect seamstress in one day," My mother finished, touching me comfortingly on the shoulder. I nodded, but I wasn't completely satisfied.

"Why is the hag-"

"Therida!"

"Sorry. Why is grandmother so obsessive about her sewing?"

"That, my dear, is a question you will need to ask your father. In the meantime, why don't you get cleaned up for dinner?" With that, my mother briefly squeezed my shoulder and then drifted out of the room, closing my door softly behind her. I thought about what she had said in reply to my question, and then I realized with sinking feeling that I would never know the answer. My father never replied well to questions about the rest of his family, especially questions about Mater Motley. In fact, ever since one of my brothers asked a similar question and received a black eye for an answer, we decided that knowing about our family's past was not worth risking our father's explosive temper. I decided to let the question go until further notice, and went over to my closet in search of something presentable to wear for dinner, unaware that the already long Night was going to get even longer.

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Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! My thanks

especially to Caitycat66 for being the first to review

my very first story, "The Legend of Izabella"!