CHAPTER 5

Idira's lessons started as soon as she finished her breakfast. Two menservants carried in a desk and matching chair. As they settled the desk beside the window, a dark-haired middle-aged woman wearing an elegant navy gown came in, holding a small leather satchel. She set the satchel onto the desk and looked around the room, nodding to herself. The men left and closed the door.

The woman held out her hand.

"My name is Nin," she said, her accent arched and refined. "I am here to teach you decorum, and how to read and write."

Idira took the woman's hand. Her tutor gently lifted Idira's fingers up and down, just the once.

"This is how you will greet others when you first meet them. You will also say 'How do you do?' Shall we try again?"

"How do you do?" Nin asked.

"Fine," Idira answered, before repeating the greeting back.

Nin shook her head. "Ah. One never replies to the question, they simply repeat the greeting back. Try again."

Idira stared at her tutor, uncomprehending. Why would anyone ask another person how they were if they didn't want to know the answer? Even though it made no sense, she tried again. She repeated the pointless phrase without answering.

"Excellent," Nin smiled, pleased. "Now you must learn the protocol for who asks the question first. It goes like this," she counted off the levels of seniority on her slender fingers. "Station, sex, and age. Therefore if one were greeting the Queen of Stormwind, unless they were the king of a more powerful kingdom, she would always ask first."

Idira gaped. This is what VanCleef wanted her to learn—the rules of who gets to ask a pointless question first?

Nin straightened up and folded her hands together at her waist. "Now let's try a little test, shall we? If your sister was to meet me, whom do you think would speak first?"

Idira examined her tutor. The woman was easily twice Myra's age, full of poise and very elegant. She looked like a proper lady. It was an easy question. Myra was no one, a farm girl. Idira pointed at Nin.

Nin shook her head, patient. "No dear, your sister would speak first. She is Mr VanCleef's lady. If Westfall were to have a queen, Myra would be she."

Idira could feel her eyebrows climbing. Her sister, a queen? She waited for Nin to laugh, but her tutor remained serious. It appeared Nin was not pulling Idira's leg like Benny sometimes did when he made up silly stories. It made no sense. Idira realised she really had no idea who VanCleef was.

"VanCleef can make Myra a queen?" she asked, trying to work it all out. "Is he a prince?"

Nin didn't answer. She crossed the room and sank down onto the window seat. After a moment, she patted the space beside her. Idira went to her and climbed up, sensing her tutor was going to tell her something important.

"What do you know about Edwin VanCleef?" Nin asked, quiet.

Idira shrugged and fiddled with a loose thread on her dress. "Jus' that he can make Papa do what he wants, an' he has this big, fancy house, an' sometimes he does real bad things. Myra doesn' like him. She misses Benny . . . I miss Benny, too."

Idira felt Nin's gentle fingers on her chin. Nin lifted her head so Idira met her tutor's eyes.

"VanCleef is not a prince, nor is he even nobly-born," she said, soft. "But he is the son of a great mason and learned much at his side. VanCleef is one of the architects who masterminded the rebuilding of Stormwind after the war. It would have taken anyone else fifty years to accomplish what he did, but because of his leadership and engineering skills, he did it in ten. VanCleef is a very clever, gifted man. Stormwind owes him much."

Nin looked out the window, her gaze turning inward, lost in her thoughts. After a time, she continued, "My husband was one of the architects who worked alongside him. He fell in the riots, may the Light rest his soul." She looked back at Idira, her eyes bright with tears. "VanCleef is trying to right a terrible wrong, but to do so, he must build an army of his own against Stormwind. Some might say his methods are unusual, since those who have rallied to his call—apart from the workmen like your father—are criminals. They are dangerous men who must be taught to fear him else Westfall may fall into their hands. He walks a fine line between leading the Brotherhood and controlling those men."

Idira thought of the men outside Myra's door and the ones lounging in the courtyard when VanCleef disembowelled the maid. She thought she understood. Those were the bad men, not VanCleef. He was trying to prove he was more dangerous than them, so they would obey him.

"So he is pretending to be bad?"

Nin nodded. "Just so. I have known him since he was a boy. Edwin is a good lad, circumstances have forced him to become the man he is today." She patted Idira's hand. "He fights for men like your father who spent ten years rebuilding the city. Very few know he was offered a government position with a fat income and no taxes if he chose to forget about the money owed to his men and abandon them. He refused. Now he must live like a outlaw, forbidden to enter the very city he built."

It took Idira a little time to digest her tutor's words. She sorted through her memories, filling the gaps with Nin's information. She scratched her head. "Then . . . he's a good man?"

Nin nodded again. "It must be difficult for one so young to understand, but when you grow older you will learn sometimes one must do wrong for the greater good. It is a terrible burden to bear. I do not envy Edwin his path." She gestured at Idira's room, taking in the luxurious furnishings. "The man who rules this house is far nobler than any prince, and he loves your sister, he would do anything for her, and for you."

Nin stood up, smoothed the creases from her immaculate dress and held out her hand. Idira slid off the window seat and took it, her mind filled with her tutor's words. There was so much she didn't know. She wondered why VanCleef hadn't told her the truth in the kitchen. Maybe he didn't want to brag, like Benny often did. Maybe the maid really had been a bad woman and had tried to hurt Myra on purpose. If VanCleef was smart, he would have found out the truth. He wouldn't have killed her unless she was guilty.

Idira followed her tutor to the desk. Nin lifted her up onto the chair and pulled a sheaf of papers from the satchel, spreading them out in front of Idira. Symbols, the same as the ones on the crates she had found, lay stencilled in dotted lines across the sheets. It reminded Idira of her colouring book. Nin put a pencil in between Idira's fingers and stood back.

"Today you will learn the alphabet, let us begin."

It had been the best day of Idira's life. Cross-legged, she sat on the bed and gazed at her handiwork, the pages spread out across the bed cover. She had learned to trace out all the letters of the alphabet. She had even managed to write out a few of the easier ones on her own, without the tracery. The first word she wrote was her name. She looked at the page, her heart bursting with pride, that was her name and she had written it out, all by herself.

On the next page was Myra's name, and then Benny's, and finally on the last page, written out with great care, was VanCleef's. She couldn't wait to be called downstairs so she could show the others what she had accomplished. Nin had been generous with her praise as Idira worked. When her tutor departed just before dinner, Idira had overheard her telling Lanira in the hallway that she thought Idira was an extremely bright child.

Tomorrow they would continue their work, but Idira couldn't wait. She pulled out her colouring book, and on a blank page at the back she tried writing her name again, though Blackie kept interrupting her by chasing her pencil. The door opened. She looked up, Lanira came in and moved to the bed. She looked over the pages, silent. Her eyes lingered on the one with VanCleef's name. She picked it up and looked at it, expressionless. After Nin had left, Idira had drawn a little stick figure picture at the bottom, of VanCleef holding her hand in front of the door of the big house. Lanira set it back down in exactly the same place. Idira caught her wiping her fingers on her skirt, discreet. Lanira nodded at the door.

"Benny's just arrived and is waiting in the yard at the back," she said, turning to leave. "I'm to have you in Myra's room before he is brought in." She stopped and looked back at Idira. "I have spent the entire day trying to reason with your stubborn sister, but she has this hare-brained idea that Benny will be able to fight his way out of this house with her by his side. The girl can't even walk, what's he supposed to do, fight and carry her? I want you to promise me if he agrees to such a mad thing you will hide under the bed. I don't want to see you hurt."

Idira glanced down at the pages in her hands, her heart sinking, all she wanted to do was see Benny, give him her present, and ask him about the violet light. But Myra had lied to VanCleef, so there was bound to be trouble ahead. Idira probably wouldn't even get a chance to ask Benny anything before everything went wrong.

"I promise," she answered, quiet, organising the papers so Myra's lay on the top.

Lanira's face softened. "I've been hard on you, haven't I? You have proven to be a sweet child, though a little disobedient at times. If anything happens today, you will always have a home with me. My little one went to the Light years ago, but her room would suit you well, should the worst happen."

Idira looked up, her own troubles forgotten. "You lost your little girl?"

Lanira pressed her lips together and nodded. "She had a sickness even Arinna could not cure. Kara was your age when she—" she shook her head, and pulled the door open wide, blinking back tears. "Come, now is not the time."

Idira followed her minder down the stairs to the landing on the second floor, seeing her with new eyes. Lanira had lost her child, and Idira had lost her mother. Why did everything have to be so broken and unhappy in the world? Why couldn't VanCleef have the money owed to Papa and the other workmen? If the people in Stormwind had only paid what they owed, Idira would never have come here, the chickens would never have been taken away, and Myra and Benny would still be together planning their wedding and their move to their little farm in Elwynn. Papa would be leaving for Redridge to build his house. The maid would never have died.

So much unhappiness, most of it caused by money.

They approached the door to Myra's room. Two new men stood outside it, even meaner looking than the ones from the day before. One of them had an iron collar around his neck. He looked twice the size of Benny, the massive muscles of his upper arms bulged under their leather wrappings. He glared at Idira as she approached.

She shrank back against Lanira's skirts, terrified. Her minder's arm wrapped around her shoulder, protective. At a sharp word from Lanira, the mean looking man unlocked and opened Myra's door, his scarred hands far too big and rough for the elegant key and fragile door handle. Lanira swept forward, hurrying Idira along, ignoring his hostile look. Idira cringed as she passed him. Benny could never beat that man, he looked like he ate rocks for breakfast. Perhaps that was why he was there, to send Benny a message.

Once in the room, she ran to Myra, desperate to put distance between herself and the horrible man cursing as he struggled to lock the door. She had only begun to tell Myra of her day when the door unlocked once more. Myra's breath caught. Idira turned. Benny and VanCleef stood in the hallway. Benny looked rough, his injuries still healing from his fight with VanCleef. His sweat stained leather tunic and breeches bore the evidence of a long day spent travelling. VanCleef stood with his hands on the hilts of his daggers in a fitted black sleeveless leather tunic and breeches, his boots rising above his knees. He looked like he had been training. A sheen of sweat coated his arms and face. His dark eyes went straight to Myra who lay propped in the bed, her hair tumbling loose over her dressing gown. He gave her a look, intense and possessive. He held her gaze as he stepped aside to let Benny pass. Benny came in, not knowing where to look, fists at his sides. Lanira slipped past him and pulled the door closed behind her. No one locked it this time. Idira sensed VanCleef outside the door, ready to come in at the slightest provocation.

"Benny," Myra whispered, struggling to lift her arms to him.

He went to her, anguished. He took her hands and sank to his knees beside her. He looked even more awful up close. Fresh cuts and bruises showed over the older ones. Idira wondered if Benny had gotten a fresh beating from Papa once he arrived in Redridge.

"My love," he rasped, his voice hoarse. He sounded tired. "Ye must listen ta me close, fer he's only lettin' us have two minutes. There's nothin' I can do for ye. If ye ever want ta see me again, ye have ta go along wit' him."

Myra tried to pull herself up. "No. Take me with ye. Please, don' leave me here. I beg ye."

"Ye think I like it anymore than ye? It haunts me, I can't sleep for thinking he's taken what's mine, knowin' there's nothin' I can do ta stop it, except bide my time an' wait."

Myra shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "Ye knew VanCleef was goin' ta claim me. Why did ye let me come here, ta this? Why didn't ye take me ta Elwynn while ye still had the chance?"

Benny's jaw clenched. He looked at the floor, then back up at her, his eyes bright with tears. "If I'd taken ye ta Elwynn, he'd have found us, killed me and still taken ye. Jac said it would only be the once, I drank myself senseless that night trying not ta think about it." He punched the mattress. "It was only meant ta be the once!"

Myra slumped back against the cushions, her tiny reserve of energy exhausted.

"Then kill me. I beg ye," she dragged his hands to her throat. "If ye ever loved me ye'll end my pain."

Idira touched Benny's hand, frightened. "Ye have ta talk sense inta her. She already tried ta die once an' VanCleef killed a lady for it. "

Benny came to his feet, shaking his head. He took hold of Myra's chin and cupped her face. Under his tender look, she sobbed.

"Please," she whispered. A tear slid free.

"There is another way," he said as he brushed her tear away with his thumb. "I been hearing rumours that the King won't stand for what VanCleef's doing here in Westfall. Give it time, he'll come soon enough and finish him. Ye must live, for I'll have ye yet as my wife on our little farm in Elwynn. Don't ye be dying on me. It's hard enough as it is, knowing ye're here, but ta know I've lost ye, forever . . ." He pressed his forehead to hers, his tears mingling with hers. "I love ye so much. Just live, fer me. Promise me ye'll see this through and come back ta me."

Myra shuddered, but she nodded. Benny kissed her hard and pulled away. "I'll never stop thinkin' about ye. I swear it. Ye're all I live fer."

He backed away to the door. Idira slipped off the bed and ran to him. He knelt and caught her in his arms, hugging her so hard she almost couldn't breathe. He let her go and stood up, his attention returning to Myra once more.

"Take good care o' yer sister until I can come back."

Idira held up the page with Benny's name on it. "This is fer ye. I wrote it today, it's yer name."

He took it from her and looked it over, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Well, I'll be. Ye're goin' ta go places, ye are. Allus was a clever thing, must be those pretty eyes o' yers."

The door opened. VanCleef walked in, like a cat prowling for prey. He almost looked disappointed to find nothing happening. He looked at Myra.

"I take it your goodbyes have been made?" he asked, cold.

Myra glanced at Benny, who watched her, his eyes filled with warning.

She nodded.

VanCleef exhaled. He glanced at Benny. "Your transport to Redridge awaits." He gestured at the door, dismissing him.

"Jus' don' let her die," Benny said, his gaze sliding back to hold Myra's, as though he was memorising her. He turned and walked out. He never looked back.

Days passed. Myra stayed in her room, recovering, under the care of Arinna and Lanira. True to his word, VanCleef had not gone back to Myra again after Benny left, allowing her the promised time to come to terms with her new situation. She never tried to die again, though she didn't talk much whenever Idira went to visit her. She just looked out the window with a faraway look in her eyes. Idira tried to tell her what Nin had told her, so Myra could see VanCleef was a good man, but Lanira hushed her up, saying not to trouble her sister with politics.

Over the weeks, things settled into a semblance of calm, even a brief visit from Papa had been uneventful. He had moved around Idira's room like a caged animal, looking at her things, scoffing to himself. Idira showed him her writing. He looked at it, unimpressed and tossed it back onto the desk. He had changed, becoming even harder and meaner looking, his body lean and muscled, hardened from travelling and whatever else he did as the Defias's Enforcer. Idira was glad when he left. He reminded her of the criminals, maybe they were influencing him. When he came in, she had been in the midst of a lesson. Nin had been polite to him, though he hadn't been to her. He had looked at her like he was taking her clothes off with his eyes, a dirty leer on his face. When he left, Nin had reached out for the back of one of the chairs, and clung to it shuddering.

Apart from an increasing presence of thugs and criminals coming and going into the courtyard below, Idira's life fell into a comfortable routine. She gained weight and her hair began to shine, glossy with health. New clothes arrived almost daily in pretty ribbon-wrapped boxes. Soon her wardrobe became so full, the doors couldn't be closed, its rail groaning under the weight of dresses in every colour imaginable. Blackie came and went, plump and shiny from boar meat, wearing a little red leather collar, bearing a bronze tag with her name engraved on it. VanCleef had had it made to match the collars worn by the rest of the cats in his house. No one ever dared hurt the cats wearing his collars, not even the bad men. Just like Idira, Blackie had a good life. VanCleef kept his promise to Idira too, except for the occasional bellow of injury from training with his men, he had never hurt anyone again.

Idira's lessons with Nin continued everyday, except on the holy day, when they had to go to the cathedral and listen to a sermon from the bishop. Idira loved going to the cathedral and listening to his stories. They were very interesting. Bishop Mattias taught about the Light and how it resided in every living being. Sometimes he would tell stories of heroes who had used their Light for the greatest good, and would often speak of the bravery and integrity of the paladin, Lord Uther the Lightbringer. When he did, he would look meaningfully at VanCleef, who sat beside Idira on the front pew wearing his Holy Day best; an elegant fitted red jacket, cream shirt and breeches, black boots and a red silk scarf around his throat, tied like a cravat. VanCleef would nod at the bishop, a tight smile on his lips, though he didn't look pleased. Idira couldn't understand why, it seemed a great compliment to be singled out by the bishop and compared to the wondrous Lord Uther. She wondered if the violet light was her Light. Maybe she wasn't bad after all, she just had a different colour light. She wished she could have had the time to ask Benny.

Her learning progressed. Soon she was able to read her fairytale books without any help. She finished all of them. Nin brought her new books, much more difficult to read. Idira soon mastered those too. Nin said she couldn't keep up with Idira, but she smiled when she said it, her eyes shining with pride.

Nin also schooled Idira in the proper manner of speaking, gently correcting her each time she erred. Within six weeks, Idira spoke just like Nin. She loved the way the words sounded in her mouth, pretty and precise. At bedtime, she would read her books aloud to her bunny, revelling in the sudden pleasure of speaking like a proper lady.

Every evening before dinner, Idira was sent outside to play in the stable yard to get exercise and fresh air. She would pat the horses' muzzles and give them cut up pieces of apple from the barrel in the kitchen. Lanira gave Idira something called a skipping rope, and once Idira learned how to use it, she used it all the time, even to skip along the hallways, though Nin frowned upon it, saying it wasn't ladylike behaviour.

One evening, after almost two months had passed, VanCleef told her he had found out her birthday would be in a week. He promised her whatever she wanted to celebrate on the coming Holy Day. Idira asked if they could eat at the Weary Traveller, Moonbrook's fancy inn on the square. VanCleef smiled, indulgent and asked if there was anyone in particular she would like invited. Secretly Idira wished she could see Benny, but she knew better than to ask. Instead she asked for Nin, Lanira, Arinna and the Bishop Mattias. She asked if Myra would come too, since it was her birthday as well. VanCleef's smile faded. He picked up one of Idira's books and fiddled with it, saying he didn't expect so.

On the morning of her birthday celebration, Idira woke to find a ribbon-wrapped box waiting on the window seat. She jumped out of bed and pulled the ribbon away, excited. A new silk dress lay within, nestled in yellow tissue paper. She caught her breath, the dress was violet, the same colour as her eyes. With a cry of delight, she pulled it free of its wrappings, ran to the wardrobe and tugged the doors open. Holding the dress up in front her, she gazed at her reflection in the wardrobe's mirror. Little white embroidered rosebuds adorned the square neckline and bodice. Underneath, a pale yellow sash encircled the waist, tied into a huge bow at the back. A flower garden done in intricate embroidery rose up from the hem, the tallest flowers reaching knee height. Pale yellow bees hovered over the flowers. It was the most beautiful of all her dresses by far. Holding her breath, she went back to the box and peeked at the underside of the lid, aching with hope. There it was! In the middle lay the golden embossed sigil of the expensive dress shop in Stormwind where Myra's dresses came from. Idira squealed, delighted and danced round in circles, holding the dress against her chest. Her first dress from the fairytale city of Stormwind!

When it was time to depart, VanCleef came to escort her down the stairs to the waiting carriage. Instead of his best red jacket, he wore a dark blue one over his usual cream shirt and breeches. Idira noticed he wasn't wearing his red silk scarf, either. She asked why he had changed.

"Red would have clashed with the violet," he said with a smile. She took his proffered hand and looked up at him, her heart filled with love. He was more of a father to her than Papa had ever been.

"Thank you for my dress, it is my most favourite of all," she said, her voice catching. A wistful look crossed his face as he adjusted the matching violet ribbon holding her hair up in a ponytail. He nodded, though he didn't say anything. She had a feeling he loved her too, as the daughter he never had. The thought made her feel warm and happy inside. Maybe this was what being in a real family felt like.

After the service at the cathedral, the carriage driver brought them to the Weary Traveller. Lanira was already there, waiting outside the door with Arinna. They smiled and waved at Idira as the horses pulled up. When VanCleef nodded at the women, Idira noticed their smiles faded a little, and no longer reached their eyes. Although she didn't know why, Idira sensed Lanira didn't like VanCleef, and he had threatened to kill Arinna that one time when Myra almost died. She hoped at least for the afternoon, they would be able to get along.

VanCleef stepped down from the carriage and helped Idira down onto the wooden walkway. As the adults greeted each other, Idira bounced on her toes, trying to see past them into the inn. Since moving to Moonbrook, she had never been anywhere outside the house other than the cathedral, Lanira wouldn't even let her go and play by the fountain in the square. Idira looked at the fountain with longing, perhaps she could ask to see the fish after they ate.

Laughter and soft music drifted out from the open double doors of the inn, soon she would eat in the fanciest place in the whole town, dressed like a princess and accompanied by a man who treated her like a cherished daughter. How her life had changed, almost like the story from her fairytale book where an orphaned slave girl found out she was really a long-lost princess from a faraway land.

"Edwin, how good it is to see you," Nin smiled as she approached the little group, holding out her gloved hands to him.

He took her hands in his and flourished a bow, brushing his lips against the back of her ringed fingers.

"My Lady Nin, you honour us with your presence," he said, a perfect gentleman.

"Nin is a real Lady?" Idira asked, astonished. She knew enough from her lessons in decorum that one didn't greet another with the title of Lord or Lady unless they actually were nobility. She had never seen Nin so dressed up before, jewels glittered on her neck and wrists and she wore a little hat with a tiny veil that half covered her face. Her elegant burgundy gown bore the same cut as Myra's expensive dresses from Stormwind.

VanCleef turned to Idira, though his eyes remained on Nin. He arched an eyebrow, curious. "The Lady Nin hasn't told you?"

Nin smiled a mysterious smile and gave a tiny shake of her head.

"Well then," VanCleef continued, "The Lady Nin's mother was sister to Varia Wrynn, once Queen of Consort of Azeroth, mother of King Llane, the Light rest both their souls. The Lady Nin spent much of her childhood in the palace of Stormwind, growing up alongside Prince Llane—at least until Stormwind became a battleground."

Idira gaped. No. It could not be true. Her tutor grew up in the palace with a prince, and was related to a queen? Idira dropped into her deepest curtsey.

"My Lady, I am not worthy of you," she breathed.

"Oh, you are Idira," Nin replied as Idira rose up. Nin held her hand out to Idira, just like she did when they went down the stairs to dine at the big table, so Idira could practice her table manners. "With all my heart, I am so glad to have the privilege of tutoring you. One day, it will be I who will curtsey to you, I should think."

Idira blushed all the way to her hairline as she took Nin's hand. With an indulgent look, VanCleef took Idira's other hand and together they walked into the Weary Traveller to celebrate her day. For the first time in her life, Idira felt like she belonged to a real family. She never wanted the feeling to end.

They swept through the crowded main dining area and up the stairs. Idira caught the stares of the patrons upon them, and particularly upon VanCleef. The looks were not friendly, some of them were even outrightly hostile. She wished they knew what a good man he was. If only she could tell them.

Their host led them to an elegant private dining room all of their own on the second floor, decorated in pale green and cream, its sunlit sash windows overlooking the square. Idira felt a little disappointed they were not going to eat in the main room with all the other people. However, once Nin mentioned over a glass of sparkling wine that King Adamant Wrynn III, Varia's husband, had once dined in this very room while travelling to Darkshire, Idira's disappointment melted away.

Over appetisers of little squares of herbed cheese in oil, menus were perused. Idira chose slices of roast pork with apple dumplings, served with caramelised onions and carrots. For dessert, the chef carried in a fantastic two-tiered marzipan cake, sent for by Nin from the finest bakery in Stormwind. Across its surfaces little marzipan figurines of Idira's favourite fairytale characters had been artfully arranged. Nin had even remembered to include Idira's favorite fairy princess's pink carriage pulled by four rabbits.

Idira looked around at her new friends, singing the birthday song to her, all of them smiling and filled with good wine. Even Lanira and Arinna were smiling for real now, nodding at Bishop Mattias as he clapped his hands, his cheeks and nose red from drinking a whole bottle of port all by himself.

Happiness filled her up so much she couldn't bear it. She didn't deserve all this. It was too good to be true. VanCleef lifted the cake knife from the table and held it out to Idira for her to cut the cake. Blood dripped off it its sharp edge, staining the tablecloth. She cried out and backed away, horrified.

"Her eyes!" Bishop Mattias exclaimed. "They're glowing."

Arinna came into view, her expression kind, but worried. "Idira, can you hear me?"

Idira nodded and bit her lip.

"What do you see?"

She glanced back at the cake knife, wary. It lay on the white linen tablecloth, clean and bloodless. Everyone watched her, their faces betraying a mixture of fear, worry and curiosity. The door opened. Myra walked in.

She was completely drenched, a gorgeous ivory gown Idira had never seen before hung heavy around her. A rock dragged behind her, tied by a rope to her ankle. She tumbled to the floor.

Idira ran to her and shook her shoulders. "Myra! Myra wake up! Why are you all wet?"

Her sister opened her eyes and met Idira's, though she did not see her. "Benny," she whispered. The floor turned to water. Drawn by the weight on her ankle, she slipped down into its inky depths.

Idira screamed, scrabbling at the rug, trying to pull it away.

VanCleef's arms came around her. He pulled her into his lap, and rocked her back and forth, hushing her.

The rustle of gowns filled the air as the women drew closer. The scent of port grew stronger. Bishop Mattias bent down and took her chin in his hand, gentle. His gaze moved over her, inspecting her. He glanced at the others, then around the room.

"Look how the whole room glows the same colour as her eyes, it even overcomes the daylight. What school of magic is this, Arinna?" Bishop Mattias asked, uneasy.

"I confess I do not know for certain," Arinna answered. "I would need time to study her and consult the archives, perhaps a mage might know better, I could—"

"She sees the future," VanCleef interrupted, tightening his hold on Idira, protective. "I don't know how it manifests, but it seems to strike when she is in a state of high emotion. I have seen this happen once before. On that occasion she went temporarily blind."

A hiss of indrawn breaths filled the air.

"Blind! The poor child," Nin murmured, bending over to brush Idira's hair back from her face. "Look how she shivers and quails, certainly whatever she has just seen was most unpleasant in the extreme. We cannot let her suffer like this," she stood up and folded her hands in front of her. "In my experience the only way to overcome the unknown is to learn about it. Edwin, I suggest you permit Arinna to spend time with Idira to study her."

Idira didn't like the way the grown-ups were talking about her as though she wasn't even there. All her hopes that her Light was good but just a different colour were beginning to fade. She looked at Bishop Mattias and asked in a small voice, "Is my Light bad?"

Bishop Mattias took a step back, flustered by her question. "Well, I . . . that is to say, we don't know child. If it frightens you and makes you blind it cannot be good, although perhaps you just need to learn to control it, whatever it is." He turned to the priestess. "Arinna, you are the expert in these matters, what say you?"

Arinna knelt beside Idira, her white gown reflecting a faint echo of Idira's violet light. The priestess smiled, gentle, and tucked a stray hair behind Idira's ear.

"You used to live by the sea, didn't you?" she asked.

Idira nodded, uncertain what that had to do with the violet light. Arinna pressed her hands together and rested the tips of her index fingers against her lips. She fell silent for several moments, thinking.

She looked up at Bishop Mattias. "I have one theory. Further south along the coast in Stranglethorn Vale a sect of the Gurubashi trolls have been trying to resurrect their god Hakkar. Trolls use very dark magic, a combination of shadow and nature, but with the addition of something they call mojo to strengthen it, essence from their loa spirits. They infuse items with this magic. Perhaps one washed ashore and Idira found it. Even just a touch could be enough to—"

"You might wish to have a care what you say next," VanCleef cut her off, his voice tight with warning. He looked meaningfully at Idira.

Lanira touched Idira's shoulder. "Come child, let's go see the fish in the fountain, it was meant to be a surprise for later but I think now is just as good a time as any. I'll have the cake sent to the house. We can take coffee in the dining room. Perhaps your sister might even come down and join us, hmm?"

Idira shook her head. "I want to know the truth. I have dreams too. Most of them are bad, but one was nice. I was all grown up, standing on a balcony in a floating city, it was very beautiful."

Bishop Mattias chuckled, seeking to ease the tension. "A floating city? Well, I never. Children do have the most abundant imaginations." No one else laughed. He went to the table and poured himself another glass of port, his hands shaking a little. He downed the drink in one go.

Arinna looked at VanCleef, waiting for his permission to continue. He nodded. She cleared her throat. "Idira do you remember finding anything unusual on the beach, something not from the sea itself?"

Idira shrugged. "I found a lot of things."

"But, anything strange? Maybe it felt magical?"

"I don't remember, things always washed up on the beach, especially after a storm. Papa took everything I found so he could sell it. I was only allowed to keep the sea shells."

Arinna stood up with a sigh. "There is no way to know for certain without either having a description of the item or . . ."

"Or?" Nin prompted, cautious.

"Mr VanCleef, how deep do your connections go?" Arinna asked, changing direction once more.

"Deep enough," he replied, setting Idira on her feet. He rose. "What do you need?"

Arinna drew a deep breath. "A troll."

A horrified silence fell.

"No," VanCleef answered. "It is too dangerous. You will just have to find another way."

"There is no other way. A troll would know how to remove it, if you would be willing to pay the price they asked."

VanCleef crossed his arms over his chest. "And you are absolutely certain this is what afflicts her?"

"I could spend more time studying her if you wish, but I know I will come to the same conclusion."

"Which is?"

"The violet colour is the key," Arinna said, her eyes growing distant as she searched her thoughts. "It is not the colour of arcane, shadow, nature or holy. It suggests a combination of magics, which only the trolls use. Trolls are the most ancient race on Azeroth, they were here even before the elves, and their form of magic is very powerful. Further, they are obsessed with seeing the future, blindness is common for the seers."

Idira thoughts raced ahead, she had troll magic in her? She didn't even know what a troll was, but from the looks on everyone's faces, she gathered they were bad. Even worse than Papa. She tried to think of anything odd she might have picked up from the beach, but nothing special came to mind. Most of it was just debris from shipwrecks, at times figurines and odd jewelry, but nothing that had felt the way the violet light made her feel.

"And if we do nothing?" Nin asked.

Arinna shook her head, unwilling to answer.

Idira didn't like the look on Arinna's face. Maybe she should have gone to look at the fish after all. A thought occurred to Idira.

"Papa says my eyes have always been this colour," she offered, hoping to help. If she was born like this, then it couldn't be troll magic.

All eyes turned to Arinna. VanCleef's hands went to his hips, he looked angry. Arinna spread her hands apart, helpless. "Upon my soul, there can be no other possible explanation."

Lanira stepped up beside Arinna. "When I asked Myra about Idira's eye colour, she said there had been violet light in the room when their mother died. Jac blamed the babe, of course."

Mattias came back from the table, carrying a half-empty glass of port. "Perhaps their mother touched the object and it caused her death. Could the magic carry to the child?"

Arinna shook her head. "I don't know, despite having read everything there is about them in the archives of Stormwind there is very little known about troll magic. But the rest of it fits. It is worth the risk, in my opinion."

A murmuring rose up as they began to discuss the dangers and difficulties, some raised their doubts and others their hopes for finding another explanation. Names were brought up and discarded, even the venerable Lord Uther's was discussed at length. Idira's eyes widened, it must be serious indeed if they thought a man like him should be contacted. More wine was brought in, they emptied one bottle, then another. Idira noticed Bishop Mattias helped himself to more than his fair share.

A waiter came in with a new bottle of wine. VanCleef waved him away.

When the door closed, VanCleef rapped his knuckles on the table. He had shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves during the long discussion. He looked tired. Everyone fell silent.

"Enough," he said, irritable. "Though it will cost me greatly, I see no other alternative but to do as Arinna suggests. A troll will be captured and brought to Klaven's Tower."

He stood up and picked up the cake knife once more. He drove it into the cake's smooth marzipan icing so hard it made the little figurines on either side topple over. Idira bit her lip, watching, heartbroken as he butchered her beautiful cake into pieces.

He pulled a piece out and put it on Idira's plate. He had made a messy job of it, one of the little rabbit figurines had been cut in half. He smiled at her, though he didn't look happy at all.

He served the others and sat down. No one moved. He waved his hand at them, impatient. "Eat the cake," he snapped.

Idira eyed the remains of her once beautiful cake, the figurines hacked and mutilated. Her light had ruined everything. She was bad, and VanCleef was going to have do something very dangerous to get the bad out of her. Her worst fears were confirmed. She had killed Mama just like Myra said. Even now she was still ruining things. She had made VanCleef angry. Papa was right. She was evil.

She pushed her cake away and cried.