Ellimere shook out her curls and gazed at herself in the mirror.
She lifted her chin up and pouted, a smile curling on her painted pink lips.
A hand reached out and pulled her chin down. The skin on the pale hand was rough and worn and Ellimere turned to her weary looking mother with a smile.
Sabriel looked thin. Her eyes had heavy bags beneath them, and her raven black hair was flecked with grey. It was shorter than Ellimere had seen it in a long while, reaching just below her mother's ears. Back in Ancelstierre Ellimere had seen pictures of Sabriel's schoolgirl days and it had been bobbed in a similar fashion back then.
'Mother,' Ellimere pulled her into a tight embrace, which Sabriel leant into wearily.
'Are you alright?' Ellimere whispered.
Sabriel sighed. 'No. I'm not. I won't be for a while, I don't think. I'm worried more than anything. I'm worried for you. For the responsibilities you are taking on as Queen. I'm worried for Sameth because he had yet to love. He needs to learn so much. I am worried for Lirael because she has come to this with so little... and she still seems so overwhelmed. She had not accepted yet that we love her so.'
Ellimere stroked her mother's hair sadly. 'We are more capable than you perceive mother.' She whispered gently.
'With Sardis here, I feel so.... Safe.'
Sabriel nodded. 'I know, my dear I know... it's just that...'
Ellimere put a finger to Sabriel's lips. 'I know, mother. You miss him. We all do.'
'And tomorrow you will take his place.' Sabriel smiled weakly. 'And there is still so much to do! And I cannot shake what may still threaten the Old Kingdom. I cannot shake the feeling that someone plans to strike tomorrow, at your coronation...' Sabriel looked at her beautiful daughter and shook herself, forcefully. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm being awful. Best to ignore me, you know, paranoid. As usual.'
'You can't help it.' Ellimere said gently. 'After a lifetime's enslavement to those bells its no wonder you feel this way.'
Sabriel went to the window and brushed her hair away from her face. 'No.' she said thoughtfully. 'It's not.'
'No, don't put it there, Yarlis!' Lirael cried, picking up the vase and handing it back to the startled servant, 'Sorry,' Lirael apologised, 'Over there if you please, on the drinks table....ah, yes, Allinel,'
A bossy, overdressed woman approached. 'Where do you need to orchestra for tomorrow, Mistress Abhorsen?'
'Oh dear,' Lirael pondered, 'I'm not too terribly sure... what about here? Maybe Sameth and I could set up a stage, and then you could entertain the guests and newly crowned Queen while we all dine?'
'Good idea,' Allinel smiled, and noted the position down, 'And what about the choir?'
What choir? Lirael thought wildly. 'Um, I don't know, maybe down at the great hall? Maybe the choir could sing Ellimere in?'
'Excellent!'
'Yes well – you'll have to excuse me one moment... no Cardife, please tell the trainees to leave this area for the moment?'
'I was only showing them around because they requested it!' the offended mage said, shuffling the trainee mages out, looking rather hurt.
'Sorry!' Lirael called desperately after him. She shook her head. She would have to apologise properly later.
She was just about to jump on a pair of unsuspecting ladies that were loitering in the doorway as they admired the splendidly re-decorated dining hall ready for Ellimere's coronation the next day when a voice whispered, 'Keeping busy?'
Cronwell stood right next to her ear, breathing in her hair.
Lirael stepped away purposefully and shot the Lord a warning glare. 'Yes, quite busy,' she said frostily, 'And, you? Busy? Tending to Ellimere perhaps?'
'Point taken.' Cronwell flashed her a nasty smile and Lirael sneered disgustedly. A month had gone in a flash and she still had numerous problems running about her like scrabbling mice fighting for an equal piece of cheese.
Firstly, Mogget still had not returned and Lirael, who was afraid for Yrael's spirit if it stayed in death too long, was more anxious than the rest of her family. Sam, who had no idea why she was so worried, assured her that the cat disappearing for months at a time was nothing unusual and said that he might even be resting comfortably at Abhorsen's house.
Lirael's worries still had not rested. The longer Mogget was gone the more deeply his spirit could be infected...and the longer he was gone meant that maybe Lirael could not talk to the Dog after all. The thought was heavy in her heart and she kept it there for fear of disappointment.
Secondly, Cronwell was still hanging around her and her family like a bad smell, and she had still not found anyway of proving to herself that he was truly untrustworthy, save for his inappropriate approach to her.
Thirdly – and this was the worry the screwed with her brain more than anything else was that Lirael still had not managed to pull her head around the worry that was Nick. How could she ever truly know how she felt about him? He was always there, at the front of her brain through everything. When she dressed she found herself wondering if Nick would appreciate how one would outline her hips or if she should try taking off her white headscarf. She wore the head garment out of pure habit now – there was no point in trying to make herself feel a little more like a Clayr. That part of her life was over. It was still there, but it was gone. Perhaps she ought to see what Nick thought if she wore her hair loose. Thoughts of him floated by her daily routine too: whilst she practiced with Sameth she often thought how she could wangle Nick to join them. She even caught herself about to motion him to sit next to her at dinner.
Luckily, that time he hadn't seen her, and only looked over to flash her a smile, which she always returned, somehow over-enthusiastically.
Often she walked out to one of the open turrets. There were few guards up there and they rarely disturbed her if they saw her. It was the only place she truly felt peace, a place where she could lean over the side and allow the winds to blow away her troubles.
Today was no better. Lirael felt responsibility weighing on her like a heavy brick and for once it was not the burden that came with being half of the Abhorsen. It was the responsibility of being an aunt.
Aside from herself, Sameth and Sabriel had been the hardest at work, trying to make Ellimere's coronation perfect.
Lirael still had not managed to talk to her sister properly nor had she managed to find away to tell her worries about Cronwell to Sam, who was working flat-out making sculptures and robes for the coronation.
Lirael had only been to his workshop twice since the talk she had had with him about his interest in the guardsmaid Mariias. She was disappointed to see that the sword Sameth had worked so hard on was still leaning against wall, almost forgotten...
Sardis Cronwell watched Lirael organise the rest of the preparations with mild interest. To think that she was going to all these efforts... only to have it crumble between her golden fingers.
'Pity.' Cronwell muttered to himself, but now, a day before the coronation it was time to pick off some of the more irritating members of the royal family.
Queen Sabriel could wait – her blood might be needed – perhaps. Lirael could stay alive, if she accepted to be in Cronwell's arms forever... yes. Of course she'd accept. And as for the princess...
Cronwell saw Ellimere walking over, a smile licking the corners of her mouth.
She smiled up at him, deep admiration sparkling in her brown eyes. 'Hello, sweetheart.' He whispered, kissing her softly on each cheek.
'Hello Sardis,' she hissed in his ear, tasting his skin. 'Will you come to bed?'
'But it's the middle of the day!' Cronwell smiled at her eager face.
'I know.' Ellimere giggled, 'But I'll be so tired and busy tonight at the ball... there won't be time... I won't enjoy it.'
Cronwell grinned at her. 'Of course. Come, last since you become Queen.'
Ellimere kissed him, took his hand and led him upstairs. Cronwell looked back to catch Lirael's suspicious glare and he met it with a cheesy smile. She looked away quickly, anger evident in her sudden tense posture.
Time to loosen her muscles. Cronwell thought.
Five minutes later, both Cronwell and Ellimere lay in tense silence, the room stuffy and hot after their intense passion.
'I'll open the windows, my queen,' Cronwell whispered in her dark curled hair.
She smiled, evidently fast falling asleep, and he touched her temple briefly, muttering, 'Sarlem.' He felt her consciousness slide away in an instant, and her breathing deepened dramatically.
'Sleep well, sweet princess.' He whispered, and dressed quickly.
Sameth went to his workshop door following the brief knock. He expected to find Lirael, come to find out if he was alright, but instead he found Cronwell filling the doorway, a smile on his handsome mouth.
'Good afternoon, my son.' Cronwell greeted him with a slap on the back.
'Hello, Sardis. Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but is it urgent? I'm rather busy.'
'Oh it's urgent, alright.' Cronwell sighed, 'Sameth, I wasn't sure how to tell you this, but are you ready to hear how your father died?'
'I know how he died, Sardis. I just... I'm sorry this isn't the right time to talk about this, I still have to make four more sets of robes for Ellimere's henchmen.'
'He died in a good fight, Sameth. That I give him. But... he was far too slow. Bit of a clumsy fighter eh?'
Something was suddenly roaring in Sameth's ears. He felt dizzy. Sick. 'W...what do you mean?' he stammered.
Cronwell picked up the sword Sameth had made for Mariias, and unsheathed it. 'Hope you made this sharp, dear lad. Wouldn't want your death to be as painful as Touchstone's would you.
Sam blinked back the tears. They were swimming down his face, a mixture of grief and pure, blinding rage.
'You.' He spat.
Cronwell nodded, a sad, sarcastic smile creasing his mouth.
He lunged.
Sameth fell.
And all went black.
'Lirael, have you seen Sam?'
Lirael turned to see Mariias, looking extremely pretty in a turquoise tunic. A sash embroided with lilies was tied around her waist, and her shoulder-length blonde hair made her rosy cheeks and green eyes look stunning.
Lirael frowned suddenly, realising that she had not seen her nephew all evening. Everyone – royals, nobles, ladies, gentlemen were gathered in the North of the castle, in the grand hall. Normally, it was the hall Sabriel entered upon her return home, and outside in the courtyard several paperwings were parked. The ball. It marked the end of Ellimere's time as a princess, and the beginning of a new ruler of the Old Kingdom. It also was a celebration of Touchstone's life.
Lirael had dressed up – if reluctantly. Both Sabriel and Ellimere had ambushed her that afternoon and forced her into a formal dress. Lirael didn't like to admit it, but she felt amazing. Her hair was loose, falling down her back and covering the exposure of skin that the dress left behind. It was as dark blue as her Abhorsen surcoat –like a handful of night sky. Thankfully though, the keys that usually flecked things that belonged to an Abhorsen were not daintily embroided onto the surface.
Made in a halter-neck fashion, it hung to her ankles, and made her look taller, and younger...She looked...
'Beautiful.' Nick whispered.
Lirael blushed as he looked at her, his eyes lingering on her face and hair most. Pearls were clasped to her ear lobes and the sight took Nick's breath away.
His heart skipped a couple of beats as she smiled at him.
'Thank-you.' She said, 'You look so handsome in that. You ought to wear it more often.'
They stood there for what seemed like hours but could only have been minutes. And then the question leaped out of his mouth that he had wanted since the dawn of that day.
'Would you like to dance?' he whispered tentatively, offering her a hand.
She took it with her real flesh and his palm tingled as he clasped her other... the golden hand. It shimmered with charter-marks and as he placed it on his shoulder and pulled her into him Lirael found that all else was a blur.
They moved with quiet, lazy steps, but it didn't matter. The orchestra that played with soft, calm strings lulled her into such security that for the first time in a long while, she felt safe. Slowly their faces glided past each other, and Lirael felt the world become fuzzy as her forehead pressed against his nose. He gently kissed her charter-mark and she felt it shiver down her spine. She closed her eyes and blew out her breath.
Here. She was here. In his arms.
There, she was there, holding his hand with hers. Nick was so excited he could hardly breathe.
Carefully, they moved to he side of the room and hid behind one of the pillars. Lirael was only an inch shorter than he, and slowly he reached down. Their lips met, and slowly carefully, quietly, Lirael was taken no where that was earth.
