Chapter Two

Nightfall arrived quickly. The halls were quiet, and many servants were already off duty. Only the Reds on night shift remained about. I walked down the corridor and saw light escaping doors ajar. It was coming from the art studio. I peeped into the room, and my mother was still in there, trying to work on her incomplete sculpture. Unlike most people from the House of Samos, my mother has a kind heart. With her, it was never about being the strongest or the most talented. She just wants to enjoy what she has in life and create art.

She molded one section of the polished ore, closely examine it from all angles, then sighed and undid the change, reverting it back to its original form. This happened at least three times before I interrupted her focus. I knocked on the door a few times, then entered the room.

"How long have you been at it today?" I asked. She let out a weak laugh and shrugged. It's probably been hours. I noticed a strand of hair fall out of place, into her face. "Mother… "

"Since after the lunch gathering." And I was right. She's been at it for over five hours, which usually isn't abnormal if she had made progress. The sculpting stone sat high on the table without a trace of modification. I sat down at the chair she left empty and attempted to distract her. My mother waved her right arm, causing two streaks of metal to grow, circling around the stone. "No, no, no.." She waved her arm back, and once again, the metal returned to its resting state.

"Are you alright?" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course, dear. Why do you ask?" She looked towards my direction and smiled kindly. Her smile was usually uplifting. It always has been, but this time, for the first time in a long time, she looked sad. The last time she had looked at me with such an expression was when my father left to oversee the training of soldiers for the war. It was just before my coming of age ceremony, a week before I turned thirteen.

For Silvers of the High Houses, there two ages that signify a milestone in youth's growth: thirteen and eighteen. Once a child turns thirteen, he becomes eligible to attend the lunch gatherings. The thirteenth birthday is always celebrated as a Converging, introducing the new youth to the event and his peers. Of course, he will be the youngest of the entire group since the average youth attends until they have become betrothed per their decision or their parents, or until it has been decided that he will not be devoted to another. When the age eighteen is reached, then job opportunities become apparent, and a career is chosen often by age twenty.

The weekend before the Converging for my thirteenth birthday, my father was called to duty. He didn't need to go to the battle grounds, but his presence was requested in war training. Unable to turn down the head of the military, he accepted the calling. I remember getting up in the middle of the night and watching them argue in this very room from behind the slight crack between opened doors. He apologized repeatedly. My mother was raged.

"You're always choosing your job over us! Just this once. It's her thirteenth birthday, Priam!" He took a step forward in attempt to comfort her, but the iron ornaments from atop the fireplace flew in between them, levitating, now in the form of a grid.

"Honey, please, you know I can't say no."

"Why not? You've said no to us plenty of times." They both looked hurt. My father hated seeing my mother upset, and she hated using her powers in the house for any reason other than art. One second, their eyes were locked in silence, pain present in both pairs of deep brown that glowed amber with the fire. The next, the sound of the metal grid collapsing against the ground echoed throughout the room. "You used your powers on me?" My mother asked in disbelief. However shattered she looked before, this was a thousand times the pain. It wasn't until she followed my father's gaze towards the doorway that she saw me standing there. Once more, her emotions flickered, and then, she was heartbroken.

"Aselia," My father started. "You can't use your abilities on your mother like that. Have I not told you that before?" I simply nodded in response.

"My dear, come here." My mother kneeled and held open arms for me, holding back the tears ready to fall. I walked over and hugged her, apologizing for my action.

"Father's leaving?" They exchanged a look and realized their conversation was overheard. It then became a matter of trying to comfort me. I felt the betrayal my mother felt as well. Turning thirteen was something every child looked forward to. There would be a party, with others like myself. I would be hosting and attending my very first Converging. My mother and father would stand by me and introduce me to others. They would make a speech and give me a blessing for my years to come. At least that's how it was supposed to happen. Instead, I was there, watching my parents fight because I can't have what the others did. "When, Papa?" I asked. His lips pursed together and he hesitantly answered.

"First daylight, a week from now." The day of my birthday. I hugged him tightly and simply said,

"Please, come back right away." He smiled reassuringly and nodded. "And please, don't fight. I don't want you two to be ruined over my birthday. I've many more to come." Shocked crossed his face, but my mother smiled and gently held my hand in her's.

"Of course not, honey. This family will never fall. We are stronger than one fight."

"Yes. We are Arven," my father finished. They took each other's hand, and in that moment, we were all connected, hand and heart. I felt the love of family and did not let the fact that my father was leaving hurt me any longer. Relief was evident in his face, but in my mother's there was a distant emotion. She smiled once more, but it wasn't promising. It lacked positivity and optimism. It was blue, lacked genuinity, and it was the first time I've seen such an emotion from her.

Before she could attempt another gesture in attempt to produce another masterpiece, I silenced her. It pains me to use my abilities in this way, but it was the only way to draw her full attention. For a split second, confusion rose in her eyes, then she looked over towards me.

"Sweetheart,"

"I'm sorry," I interrupted. She sighed once again and took a seat by me on the cushioned arm rest. "But I know you well, mother. Something's wrong. Please talk to me." She stared into the fireplace in silence, and I followed her gaze. She had the same amber eyes that glowed the night of their fight.

"You know I only want the best for you, right?" Her voice was comforting. Serene. I nodded, allowing her voice to be the only sound in the room, second to the crackling fire. "You're finally eighteen, Aselia. Your life is now just beginning, yet why do I feel like you're not taking this seriously at all?"

"Is this about today's Converging?" I responded. "Because if it is, I'm sorry. I was just-"

"I did hear about that, yes, but no, dear." Thank god. "I'm talking about your aspirations, goals for the future, your career, title as a Silver of the High Houses," Of course, I'm not surprised when I hear this. Other houses are already making arrangements for their children, my peers. My parents promised me the freedom to choose my own path, but I've yet to decide what I want to do. My mother is just worried that I'll become some statusless Silver with no family nor career, but that's not true at all. "And also, our family." Our family, as in the future of our family. Not the entire House of Arven, but the children I'm expected to bear in the name of my father, Priam, and the father before him. She's upset because I've yet to be betrothed. I took a deep breath and turned to face my mother, taking her hand in mine.

"Mother," she stayed still. I want her to be happy. She practically raised me on her own with my father being gone for long periods at a time. Even with Red servants around the house to assist every second of the day, my mother never ceased to be the one to keep me company and spend her leisure time with me. I want her to be happy and free of stress, yet she continues to worry for my sake. "I guess I should really start considering one of the bachelors, shouldn't I?" She finally looks my way and lets out a mild laugh. I did the same. "You sat Eragon next to me at lunch today." She nodded in response.

"The Laris boy, yes. He's very kind, Aselia."

"Yes, he is." I agreed.

"He'll treat you well." But is that enough? He is good looking. He seems very caring too. He's tall. I suppose that's a good gene for my children to have since I stand not so tall myself. He's charming and is also a blond, but what else do I know about him? I realized I never really invested time in getting to know him. Not him nor anyone else. What have I been doing at the Converging all these years? I've been surrounded by the same youth group for the past five years, yet the only friend I've really had was Kaius. The only reason we became friends was because he lacked interest in Silver politics and finding a marriage candidate as well. We shared that in common. Then there's my cousin, Elise. She was never one who talked too much, and something always seems to be bothering her. Though, since she's been around me since we were children, I can usually at least tell the difference between if she was just bored or if she was annoyed. Our relationship is strange because it always felt one-sided, but we are close. I recalled a memory of when we were little. I was about nine, and my mother invited her sister- Aunt Charlotte- and Elise over. I've always known who she was, but I never met her until that evening.

"And this is my room," I told her as I was giving her a tour of the house. She followed me into my room at a safe distance. I thought it was because she was just shy. "I don't have a lot of dolls because my father says I'm too old for that now." She continued to stay silent. "But I like to paint." Still no comment. I let out a deep sigh and crossed my arms. "You don't talk much, do you?" At that question, she tightened her fist. The adults have always gossiped about how Samos's were hot-headed and short tempered, with the exception of my mother, of course. I became nervous at her tension, and excused myself from my own room. "I-I'm going to grab us some snacks. Our servants make really good scones here. You stay here. If you like to read, my books are on the lower left shelf by the east wall." Then, I left for the kitchen. I was excited to meet her, but who knew she was such a disappointment? We were supposed to play together like girls do, pretend we were participating in the Queenstrial, attending make-believe weddings and much more. I sighed at the thought of my dull, Samos cousin.

Only a few short seconds later, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. I turned around and Elise was holding the skirt of her dress, running towards me. "You don't have servants bring them to you?" I was astonished when she spoke.

"What?"

"The scones. Your servants should be bringing them to you." I smiled at her and said,

"I like to go to the kitchen for it because I can put the glaze on it myself." She gave me a look of confusion. "I like to put a lot of glaze." It was dark outside, but under the light of the moon gleaming through the cieling high, hallway windows, I saw her face. Her face flush white, and she lowered it in attempt to keep it hidden.

"I wish I can do that." I felt triumphant. For once, though it took some time, I was able to see her personality sneak through the little cracks of her iron wall. I lowered myself to be face-to-face with my cousin and took her hand.

"Come on, before anyone sees us." She lets a smile slips and I laughed. "Let's go!"

The memory made snicker.

"Well?" I turned my attention back to my mother. "Do you like him?"

"Who?"

"Eragon Laris." She sighed. "Are you even listening to me, Aselia?"

"Right. Of course, I am, mother. He's lovely. I just need a little more time to think about everything." I need a little more time to start thinking about everything. "Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Me, my future, our family, there's nothing to be worried about. I promise." She smiles and kisses my forehead, then walks over to the stone of iron waiting to be sculpted. With the twirl of a finger, three sections of metal curled out along one side of the block. A look of satisfaction crosses her face.

"Hmm, I kind of like this. Don't you?" I nodded in agreement. She continued to evolve the block into a phenomenal statue. With just her mind, the foundation grew arms, legs, wings, a body. Whatever she did not like, she simply reversed and reformed. I watched her work for a few minutes, then excused myself from the room.