I don't own it. Tammy owns it. I do own Asherah, Naida, Perun, and Miya, Daja's daughter who may come up later, but they're not really important.
She waits at her window for her daughter, nervous. Darra does not show it, her shoulders are back, her chin is up. She wonders about her child, will she accept her?
The window is covered with a heavy brocade drape, forbidding light from entering her home. The house is silent and dark, a stark tomb with the displays of wealth not making it look at all welcoming.
She is wearing a forest green dress with gold trim, her (now graying) red hair, the same shade as her daughter's, piled atop her head and held with a golden net and a bejeweled comb- emerald stones, to match her dress, with two small diamonds atop the lace-like metal. She has no jewelry, save for the plain gold band on her left finger, her wedding band and it has no adornment. Her lack of jewelry makes her look only more dignified and wealthy, and really, it was the way she held herself than anything she wore. Darra acted like a queen, holds herself like a queen, and she was a queen in everything but name. Chandler House had more money than the Royal Treasury, with the King and his loose ways on the throne of Capchen.
She pulled aside the drape, straining for a glimpse of red hair, a glimpse of her child. There was a woman approaching the house, a woman of less than average height with red hair in intricate braids arranged on her head. She is slightly plump.
Clasping her hand is a tall man with a ring of white hair atop his blonde head, holding the hand of a small girl child with golden red hair and curious blue eyes. The red haired woman holds a swaddled baby, and a golden veined glass dragon is wrapped lightly around her neck, its claws grasping her shoulders gently. Another girl, older, about fifteen, with olive skin and glossy brown curls, is holding the hand of another girl. This young one is almost identical to the other and she is skipping about the street, yanking the olive-skinned girl around with her too.
Darra strains to hear what this family is saying, as she presses herself up close to the thick panes of expensive glass.
"Asha, stopping wriggling," says the olive skinned girl as she pulls the girl closer, trying to make her move less. "You're hurting my arm."
"I'm sorry, Aunt Glaki," says the small girl, slowing a bit.
"Mama, are we there yet?" says the other child, letting go of her father and dancing about the street excitedly.
"We're almost there, Naida," says the woman- her daughter. Her daughter. Trisana.
She hadn't known Trisana had children. Or, she supposed she had, but she had put it out of her mind, for any mention of her estranged daughter was embarrassing to her.
And then they are at the door, lifting the knocker, ringing the bell.
"Asherah! Please, stop it!" says the olive skinned girl- Glaki? – as she pulls Asherah closer to her again.
"Perun's fussing," notes Trisana, glancing down at her young child
Her husband drops a kiss on the top of her head.
"Don't worry, love," he says. "It will be fine." He knows that she is thinking about this meeting, not her boy. All babies fuss.
"That's what I'm telling myself," retorts her daughter, mustering a weak smile.
"It will be fine," he repeats again.
Darra hurries to the door and opens it, smoothing her skirts. She wishes to start things off formally, but the girl child Naida pulls away from her father, Trisana's husband.
"Are you my grandmother?" she questions, looking up into Darra's emotionless eyes.
Darra doesn't know how to respond to that. Manners and decorum fly out of her head. Trisana touches her husband's arm, and a spark flies between them.
It scares Darra. Not the power. She craved power, craved control. It was the magic, the lightning that scared her.
Trisana speaks up.
"Hello, Mother," she says, sarcasm evident in her voice.
"Trisana," replies Darra, coldly but cordially. No need to show all of her emotions.
"This is my husband, Kethlun Warder, and our children, Asherah and Naida, and baby Perun." She doesn't hold the baby out for Darra to coo and admire it like most mothers do; instead she clutches him closer than before, like Darra would snatch him out of her arms.
Darra never expected her child to be motherly.
"And this is Glakisa Irakory," adds Trisana, motioning to the girl with the olive skin and glossy brown curls.
"A pleasure," says Darra stiffly.
She invites them in.
Later, after they have eaten, Darra overhears Trisana and Kethlun outside the bedroom she has showed them to.
"Keth, why am I here?" her daughter asks, leaning into his chest.
"Because Sandry talked you into it." He says.
"True, but still, I was maybe going to go before she made me. Daja thought I should go, but I didn't tell her a lot. She's so busy with Kirel and Miya."
"Anyway, this visit is good for Asha and Naida. They get to see Ninver and some more of Capchen."
"Like you weren't curious also, Keth?" she says teasingly.
They kiss, and Darra leaves them there.
She wishes she could love her daughter. She knows she did, once, but she stopped loving Trisana after the first series of incidents that had happened when her daughter was three. Valden had been angry at the girl because she hadn't properly picked up her room, of something of that sort, and Trisana had made him sink into the ground.
Three years and many more incidents, they sent Trisana away to Cousin Uraelle, and then other realtives, and then finally to Stone Circle Temple.
Now she sees her daughter, a mage, and she realizes she was wrong. She shouldn't have sent Trisana away. She should have tried to figure out she was a- what was it called? - ambient mage with weather magic. She should have reasoned with Valden.
But she hadn't and now her child was truly lost to her.
And that is my insight to the mind of Darra Chandler. Tris is about 26, Keth is 31, Glaki's 15, Asherah and Naida are five, and Perun's a few months old. Daja is married to Kirel (my favorite Circle pairing, I wrote most of this before WotE came out, and rediscovered and finished it today) and they have one daughter, Miya, who's back-story is that she's named for Daja's nine year old sister who died when the ship sunk.
