Chapter 3, not the best of chapters. Enjoy. Please read and review.
Kira woke at dawn's first light. She rolled out of bed, feeling oddly energetic after such a short night's rest. Her feet carried her around her vacant room and past the shelves that were cleared, still missing the items that Kira had yet to unpack from her recent departure and return to the city of Corus. She brushed aside the chore, who said she'd be here much longer anyways?
I could manage a ride or two before I get to the housework, she decided as she gazed out the window into the early morning light.
The stables were almost deserted at such an early hour, and Kira slipped into Gilly's stall. The horse tossed his head wildly as Kira held up an apple, he took it from her and lipped her palm affectionately.
"That's m' boy," She whispered softly as she stroked the horse's neck. Kira saddled Gilly without much trouble from the gelding, and it wasn't long before they were sailing down the path to the lower City of Corus, horse and rider enjoying every moment of it.
The streets were crowded and Kira slowed Gilly's pace to walk as they shuffled through the streets. Getting to the lower city had taken longer than Kira had hoped, and now the day was truly started, the bustling citizens were the proof of it.
Aromatic scents drifted along on the gusting wind, bakeries were opening, and fresh bread and pastries made their ways into the hands of consumers. Coins passed from hand to hand as people moped along, children ran along under foot and sweethearts roamed through the streets together.
Beneath it all was the thieves, harder to spot than the regular in habitants of the lower city, but not extinct in any case. Kira saw them, she saw all of them. She always did, and faintly she remembered when she had been one of them. Life had been hard, but not unlivable.
Thieving was a sin, she knew that, but dying a worthless death seemed to be worse. All on her lonesome Kira had made the choice between life and death. She never looked back, but that didn't erase the past, it was still there. It always would be no matter how many times Kira brushed it aside.
Feeling disconsolate about her rambling thoughts Kira headed on through the city, urging Gilly along a wide street packed and crammed with people. She stopped along a merchant's booth, entranced by the glittering necklaces hanging across every visible surface. They were in all shapes, sizes and colors, with exotic threading and eye catching colors.
One in particular caught Kira's eyes from where it hung across the top of the stand. It glittered in the morning glare of sunlight, threaded onto a braid of black twine was a claw like slither of silver. A splotch of color across the middle burned a bright orange. A feather, inky black colored and glossy hung beside the claw.
Mesmerized Kira dismounted to examine it further. The merchant watched her carefully, as though she were still the sneakiest of thieves out for his wares.
"This is beautiful," She said, her eyes leaving the necklace to gaze evenly at the merchant.
"Aye, it is, a special one in fact. With the claw of a wolf and a feather of a raven it's a rare one, indeed." The merchant, a plump bearded man in his late forties seemed proud of his wares, and he raised his chin to show it.
"How much?" Kira asked, though distantly. She couldn't take her eyes off the wonderfully beautiful trinket.
"I'll tell you what, for you, a handful of silver will do."
Kira paled, "I don't have that much." Kira rummaged in her pockets, she had a few copper pieces and two or three silver. Living in the palace didn't make Kira wealthy, when it came down to it she usually only had a little bit of spare change to spend on anything other than what was absolutely necessary.
"I'm sorry miss," but the merchant didn't seem that sympathetic and Kira led Gilly along, away from the stand. She walked straight into him and staggered back in surprise, Gilly stamping his protest.
"Sorry!" Kira said as she looked up. She found herself face to face with a man that stood a full head taller than her. He wore a light cloak with a hood that shaded his features, though his dark eyes stood out among the shadow with an errant blaze.
"Pardon me," his light voice betrayed his youth. He was young, not a day over eighteen by Kira's best guess.
Their eyes met and for a moment they were both still, the next they were moving past each other again as Kira wrenched her gaze away. Even as she walked on she felt his gaze burning into her back.
Kira didn't stay in the city much longer. Instead she made her way back to the palace, taking her sweet time as her thoughts tumbled around in her mind.
"Do you think I really have magic, Gilly?" She said, half to herself.
The horse didn't reply, but continued to trot along the cobblestones with a clatter. Kira tended to Gilly herself before heading back to her room. After a quick wash to rinse away the dust collected from her ride Kira went in search of Numair, a question already brimming in her eyes.
She found the mage in his rooms, working on some experiment that baffled Kira. When Numair asked if she wanted to know how it worked she declined, politely. Kira didn't want a headache, something that Numair was sure to give her if she allowed him to go on and on about his theories and what not.
"I was wondering, you know how I said that I have a Gift now?"
Numair nodded, "Of course."
Kira shrugged, "I have no idea how to use it. I can't even light a candle with it for goodness sake." Kira paused awkwardly for a moment, "I was wondering if you could teach me, maybe just a trick or two with magic because you're so great a mage and everything."
Numair frowned thoughtfully; he knew he'd end up telling her sometime, he only wished that the time had come later rather than sooner.
"Kira, I can't do that."
Kira's shoulders slumped and the laughter in her eyes that was ever present was now vacant, leaving nothing behind but a mixture of sadness and disappointment.
"I'm sorry, I was actually asked to do quite the opposite of teaching you to use your Gift."
Kira looked up startled, "What?"
Numair gestured for Kira to sit, and she complied discontentedly. "The King asked me to make sure that no one else would get hurt from your magic, he wants me to take it away."
Kira paled, "It was an accident, I never-"
"I know you didn't mean to. Magic is like that sometimes, when you least expect it you find that you can use it. My best guess about what happened is that you were in danger, and instinct controlled your Gift to protect yourself." Numair waited for his words to sink in.
"How can you just take someone's Gift away?" Kira asked, she didn't know much about magic, she'd never really felt a need to wonder about it until now.
Numair shrugged one lanky shoulder. He was leaning against his work table so that he could face Kira evenly as he spoke.
"Mages can block it off, disable it almost. But this isn't my own decision, Kira."
Kira was overwhelmed with a wave of anguish, "But why not just teach me to control this? Don't I at least get a chance to try and learn?"
Numair's heart went out to the young girl. He couldn't deny that he would feel the same in her place, being deprived of one's Gift was unthinkable for the mage.
"It's not my choice. I won't defy the King's wishes."
Kira shook her head, "I know, you're not one for treason. How long do I have until you take it away?"
Numair sighed, "To be on the safe side I'd say a few days, you'll need to rest a bit before, and I'll need to prepare a few things as well."
Kira rose to leave, "Thanks, Numair."
"Kira?" He called softly and she stopped and turned back for a moment. There was defiance in her eyes.
"I really am sorry," Numair told her, and she believed him.
Kira smirked wearily, as if knowing that she was going to be cheated out of her own inheritance had taken a lot out of her.
"Me too."
The march back to her rooms was slow going and mournful for Kira, why me? She asked herself silently. She was thinking of her father, he had a Gift as well, but as far as Kira knew her mother hadn't. Kira honestly didn't know all too much about her parents, she was an orphan with little to her name and little to look back on.
Faintly she recalled the dream that she'd had only a few nights ago, I want to give you something that rightfully belong to you, her father's words echoed in her head.
If this isn't worth fighting for, then what is?
Kira's second attempt to see the King was much more successful than the first, and a tight lipped secretary sent her to wait in a chair outside the King's noble office.
"If you insist on seeing him, you'll have to wait."
Kira shrugged and slouched her way into one of the carved arm chairs of the anteroom. "Alright then, I will." And Kira began a long and diligent wait for a moment to speak with the King.
A long time seemed to pass before the taciturn secretary ushered Kira into the King's office. The King was seated behind his massive oak wood desk, a pen in one hand and a heavy stack of documents in front of him.
"Yes, Marty?" He said without looking up from his work.
"There's someone here who wishes to have a brief word with you, your Majesty." Marty bowed, shot Kira a look of disgust and took his leave.
Now the King was looking up, and he put his pen down. "Good to see you Kira," He said with false cheeriness. "How are you feeling?"
"Rather deceived your Majesty, if you don't mind me saying," Kira told him in a scarcely audible voice.
Jon frowned, "Is there something I can do for you then, Kira?"
Kira shrugged, there's a lot you can do for me, but that doesn't mean you'll do it!
"I can't say yet, your Majesty. I was wondering if it would not be beyond my boundaries to ask you something."
Jon ran a hand through his dark hair, "Of course not, have a seat and take you're best shot." He gestured to one of the chairs that were lined up in front of his desk. Nervously, Kira perched on the edge of one of the chairs, looking like a bird ready for flight.
"Majesty, I'd like to ask you permission to keep my Gift." It took a bit of encouragement, but Kira finally got it out.
Jon scowled, "How'd you find out about that?"
Kira ducked her head and shrugged, "I-I spoke with Numair, Majesty. If you're going to be mad, you should be mad at me, he only told me the truth."
Jon sat back in his chair, clearly thinking, after several moments of troubled thought he shook his head.
"You have to understand Kira, this is for your own good.
Kira felt a surge of anger fill her, and she closed her hands into fists. "Taking away all I have left is good for me?" Kira saw the flickering emotions on the King's face, one of confusion, one of misunderstanding. "What do I have left?" She asked, "I've lost everything. I've lost both my mother and my father, and I don't even have a snippet of a memory to cling to." Kira's eyes were hard as stone. "I have no one left."
"That isn't true, Kira." Jon told her, his voice oddly calm. "You do have kin that still lives, and they do care about me."
"And how would you know anything about that?" Kira snapped angrily.
Jon sighed deeply, "I haven't been completely honest with you. I know very well just who your father is."
The vicious retort Kira had been about to voice died in her throat. Had she heard him right? "Who?" Her voice came out thin and whispery.
"He was my cousin, and he used to be a great man," Jon told her, but his eyes betrayed him. Like sapphires they glittered with bitter memories. "He was Duke Roger of Conte."
Kira found she couldn't move. Her limbs were frozen with a sudden suffocating wave of shock. "That's preposterous; Roger was a menace and a killer. My father wasn't."
Jon's eyes were simplistic now, "It's hard to believe, I know, I didn't believe it myself for a while. But you're magic is the same as his, and you've got his charm."
Kira was shaking her head, "That's a lie, I don't believe you," her words were short and clipped.
"And how could you," Jon said in the merest of whispers, he reached for something in a drawer on his desk, and he dropped a ring in front of Kira.
She craned forward to stare at it, one hand moved to the chain at her neck that held the last token she had of either of her parents. Kira tugged on a silver chain and dragged it from her shirt, a gold ring was looped onto the chain.
Both rings were identical, to Kira's clear horror. The ring around her neck had belonged to her deceased father, and the band of gold had been a sorcerer's token, one meant to hold onto magic, same as the one in front of her.
"This ring belonged to Roger," Jon said, showing Kira the engraving of the first ring. Carved into the metalwork were the initials of Kira's father, written in the same swirly script that was imprinted on her own ring.
There was no mistaking it, the King wasn't lying. He simply couldn't be. Kira's ring that hung form her neck was one she'd hand for as long as she could remember, she couldn't even think of a handful of people who knew she had it. Making a duplicate would be damn near impossible, and knowing Kira's connection the ring was unlikely.
Now Kira looked up at the King, we might be bound by blood, but this'll never be right! She thought fiercely.
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