Tainted

"You know that children are growing up when they start asking questions that have answers." -John J. Plomp

Four: Terreille

Dorothea Sabel darted through the stone archways leading away from the Sabel Estate, the crisp air flowing through with the morning mist. On her back a leather cylinder bag was strapped, full of wooden arrows. Her thin, white shirt was sleeveless, her faded black pants cut off jut before the ankle. Her calloused feet strayed from the path onto the cool, emerald grass. Dorothea loved the feel of the dew on the soles of her feet; she appreciated the taste of the air on a fresh day. In story books she often read about ladies of court fantasizing about the rolling hills of the country, offering nothing but a population of trees and grass. Here, she could only imagine the city. Her mother often sat by her curtained window, sighing as she thought of Draega. It seemed a fascinating place, too lovely to exist. The most precious things existed only in fantasy, it seemed. But then, her father often scoffed at Draega; he rarely spoke of it. The extreme range of emotions regarding the city only deepened Dorothea's curiosity.

"Dorothea!"

The slender witch's lips broke into a smile.

"Good morning Will. Ready to go?"

"I should be asking you the same thing," a dark hair boy replied, giving her a smirk with his golden brown eyes.

Dorothea nudged his arm as she started on the way to the hawking station on the edge of the forest. They continued on in pleasant silence until they reached the station, each entertaining his (or her) own thoughts. The young boy, William Knoll, pulled the door open before bowing mockingly to Dorothea.

"Ladies first."

"Why do you think I'm waiting?"

"Honestly, you're as bad as your sister at times."

"Larqua isn't that bad," Dorothea brushed past him, her face growing cool as she marched over to the equipment rack.

"I mean no insult, Dorothea, but the girl's completely nuts. She's cruel to the boys of the village, turns up her nose at her own brother-"

"Mind your tongue, Sir," Dorothea interrupted softly, using her formal court voice (or what she imagined to be a court voice, having never actually been to one.) Dorothea was close to Larqua on a level no one could understand. Because they were twins there would forever be a psychic connection between them nothing-or no one-could touch.

"Forgive me, Lady," William replied gently, frowning slightly. He didn't mean to make Dorothea mad; she was one of his best friends, but he couldn't stand her sister. As a noble's son, he could appreciate spending time with the Sabel family. Well, most of them. Larqua and her mother declared him 'country trash', unfit to be considered part of one of Hayll's Hundred Families. He didn't care; they were both psychotic bitches as far as he was concerned. Regan Sabel was outraged when her husband, Adair, allowed William to watch after Dorothea when she went out hawking. Well, someone had to protect her, and Will was proud to boast that he was the best warrior in his age group, and therefore most suitable for the job. At first, watching over Dorothea meant keeping at a quiet distance, letting her do as she pleased. It meant just having a summer job.

Dorothea changed all that. He was a suave fourteen year old (or so he liked to think), and she the blossoming bud of feminine youth, newly turned eleven. She was brighter than most eleven year olds. Hell's fire, she was quicker, more mature…more beautiful.

"Mother Night, Will, I can't stay mad at you forever." Dorothea laughed playfully; it was an intricate sound, alluring yet innocent.

"Well that's a relief," he replied with a smile as he helped her onto her black mare, Marie.

Once he mounted his grey stallion, Nero, they both cantered out of the station together. Will knew that riding with Dorothea would mean riding hard all day with few stops or relief. He knew he would have to stay on his toes to out-hawk her. And, May the Darkness be Merciful, he loved that.

Five: Terreille

Regan sat stoutly at her vanity, sifting through the jewels in her small wooden chest. She chose a pair of pure white pearl earrings, and seriously considered wearing them before replacing them. She finally settled on a pair of sapphire and diamond studs to match her cloth of silver gown for the night. Adair allowed her to surround herself with finery; allowed her to have everything she wanted, under one condition: that they wouldn't return to the city. Regan whispered her snide comments, pleaded that it was detrimental to the children's futures to remain in the country, but he did not budge. She tried not to sigh now.

"We've put off the twins' birthright ceremony for a few months now. Perhaps it is time to really consider it," she said quietly, yet her request was actually rather loud to anyone really listening.

"They have no need just yet. Let them be children for a while yet," the reply was just as quiet, yet colder and harder.

"But they will need sufficient time to study with Craft tutors before-"

"Before what?"

"Before they go off on their separate ways. They can't remain here forever."

"Why not? The estate's big enough." Damn the bastard. He was mocking her.

"Larqua-she wants to study in the Hourglass Coven. Her future depends on this, Adair." Regan turned in her seat to face him, her lovely eyes pleading.

She was greeted with frosted features.

"And the other?"

Confused, Regan arched her left eyebrow. "What?"

"Our other child," he said softly. "Dorothea."

"Oh yes, Dorothea. Well, surely she'll need Craft out there in the woods. Hunting and that sort of thing."

"Arrange it, then." And with those three words, Adair rose and left silently.

Walking away from Regan's suite, he wondered why he gave in. Well, not really gave in. Some part of him wanted it, too. Santigo walked away from his ceremony with Summer-sky jewels. Impressive enough. With time, he could possibly earn Green jewels in his Offering to the Darkness. Adair wanted Larqua to have what she wanted, but at what cost? She often asked him why he begrudged her wishes. He didn't want to answer, and he didn't. He just walked away, like he did from everything. And that's what he was doing now. Walking away from what could not be stopped, letting the cost go unchecked.