Chapter Five: The Retaliation
Mira's subdued rage at the loss of her livelihood did not last long. After her initial lashing out, she only spent two more weeks quietly following her sister's example before the desperation for normalcy returned. Sitting in council, Mira watched the other High Lords and their families talk without much fear of repercussions. Mira and Aurora, however, were always expected to stay silent in their seats behind their father. Mira watched at dinner how lords and ladies danced on the stone that would still bear her blood. Laughing and drinking wine, hands endlessly caressing others, and the stench of lust would fill the air, as the twins cut into the small rations that were given to them.
She knew that all the fae that were under the mountain were, for the most part, dreading their existence. She knew that many lived in fear of Amarantha's next move, just as she did. She knew that others were being tortured, both their bodies and their minds being used in Amarantha's daily pleasures. She knew all of this, yet she still hated them. The lords who laughed with their kin, danced with their spouses, and spoke with authority that had long been stripped away from them. The lords who spoke of their lands, of their people, as if their time below the mountain was inconsequential compared to their years on the surface. The lords who talked about life below the mountain as an inconvenience from what they should have been doing. She knew that those same lords feared the red witch, she truly did. Yet, no matter how many times she told herself these things the hatred for her kin kept resurfacing. She hated none more than the fire-kissed demon that was the High Lord of Autumn.
She knew that Beron Vanserra must fear the red witch, otherwise he would have been above the surface by now. However, at every council that Amarantha tried to sell the girls in, he was quick to call them half-breeds of no value. His deep baritone voice echoed in her ears of all the ways that the "half-breeds of Dawn" were more of a liability than an asset to the others in court. His callous words were always accompanied by the caustic sneers of enjoyment on the faces of his sons. The fire-haired males looking at her and her sister like they were nothing more than common place whore. Add to the fact that the Vanserra's, while not having as high of a standing with Amarantha as the Night court, seemed to have more freedom than all the others did not help her resentment. The Autumn court always would drink, dance, and bed anything that presented themselves during dinners. Between the resentment in court and the freedom under the mountain, Mira found herself hating Beron Vanserra more than any other.
It was this hatred, that led her to her current position.
Mira glanced down the hallway as she quietly turned a corner. The flickering lights from the torches that lined the hall allowed her to hide comfortably in the shadows as she approached the large wooden door in the corridor. Taking another quick glance around, she carefully pried the door open. With just enough room to squeeze through, Mira entered the room.
The room was elegant in an understated way. Furnished with deep reds and burgundy, accents of orange and brown, the room had a muted beauty that reflected its namesake. The room was large, roughly the size of four of the chambers similar to what Mira and Aurora had lived in their whole lives, and was outfitted with so much furniture that there was hardly any empty space. The walls were lined with shelves that reached from the stone floor to ceiling, and were only broken apart by the doorways that were embedded between them. The large shelves allowing the six doors, three on each side, a simple yet elegant pathway for the occupants to make their way to their individual rooms.
The first time Mira had walked into the Vanserra chambers, she had almost wept. For every shelf, on every wall, was full of books and paintings. So many books, that Mira had not before known that there was such a vastness of information. Yet, when asking her father about book rooms, had found out that above the mountain similar structures were called libraries and that they could hold ten times what she had described. Knowing that the Vanserra's brought a small library with them, both astonished and angered Mira. There was such a wealth of knowledge, and compared to what they had above, this room would be described as "little". This room with tens of thousands of books, paintings of places that Mira could not even guess at their existence, was more than Mira had ever had. Still, Beron Vanserra complained in every council.
The first time she saw the room, she wept, but then she had fled. She felt wrong for invading such a sacred place of knowledge. Then she heard Beron complain, once again, and decided that if he was unhappy with the knowledge then she would lessen his burden.
Three days after her initial visit, Mira returned. Not in the room but one minute, she grabbed two books off of the shelf that was closest to the door, before leaving.
She kept coming back week after week, consuming the knowledge and tales that the Vanserra family horded, with a hunger for more on each successful visit.
Now, as Mira leans her body against the wooden door, she does not marvel at the sight before her. She has frequented the chambers and knows what does and does not go in certain places. She memorized the shelves she had read, and catalogued the ones that she planned to visit next. Her feet knew where to step so that she did not stir the dust on the stone before the little used shelves, and knew how to move the stacks so that they void from her theft was not apparent.
Glancing to the right, Mira made her way towards the shelf that she had picked for today. She gently slipped her previous conquest from underneath her dress and placed it back between two books she has already read. Satisfied with the appearance, she stood on her tiptoes to get the black leather bound book with gold embossing that she had been thinking about all day. She secured the book between her flesh and the thin rope that she had tied around her waist, before letting her thin slip dress fall back down over her skin. Making her way over to the floor length mirror that was leaned against one of the shelves, Mira turned her body so that she could see the book resting against her back. Carefully, she maneuvered her long golden hair over her shoulders, and covered the bulky book with her tresses. Still slightly noticeable due to the wave it created, Mira told herself that she would have to be quick back to her chambers and avoid anyone in passing.
She turned to leave, but her eye caught on something she had never seen in the room before. Normally so careful, Mira had neglected to notice the subtle blue color that stood against the reds, oranges, and browns of the room. With a curious frown on her face, Mira made her way over to the object.
The blue was subtle, a light almost-white hue, that was complemented by the soft green that surrounded it. Mira was not incompetent, she knew what a plant was, and she also knew that was exactly what she was looking at. She knew that the blue parts were the petals, that the green were the stems and leaves, and that the jagged brown tendrils that she could see through the glass jar were the roots. Mira also knew what the purpose of each of these parts were for, and could even discuss how plant reproduction worked and benefited the continent above. Even with all her knowledge, Mira had never actually seen a flower.
There was no sun below the mountain, so plants did not grow. The closest she had come was seeing a root through one of the cracks in the ceiling, once. However, when Amarantha noticed the young faeling look upon it in reverence, she was quick to burn it with the stolen power of Autumn.
Mira found herself reaching out in childlike innocence for the petal. She wondered if it would be warm, since it was a form of life, or cold since it would be dying outside of the soil. Her inquiry was quickly answered, as her fingers brushed against the petal. The sensation soft and smooth like running her fingers down the fuzzy blanket that she had as a child. She found her fingers roaming to the leaves, thinking the sensation would be similar, but surprised when the texture was entirely different. Rubbery and smooth, the leaves gave way to the rigid and firm structure of the stem. Mira was enchanted by the plant that was, despite being below the mountain, full of such subtle softness and beauty.
Without a second thought, Mira plucked the stem she had been holding out of the vase. There were dozens, if not more, of the flowers in the vase. The Vanserra family would not notice if a single one went missing. Rearranging the remaining petals, so that the plant looked just as full as it had before, Mira placed the flower beneath her dress alongside the book.
She carefully made her way her way out of the chambers, tip toeing around the stone corridors, and returning to her room. Shutting the door quietly, Mira was sure to keep her steps light as to not wake her sleeping sister. She walked to her side of the bed, and as softly as she could raise the mattress. Mira reached behind her back to grab the leather book and placed it safely under the bed. Praying, that it would not be discovered by any servants or creatures that wondered into her room during the waking hours. Then she delicately pulled the small blue flower into her hands. She glanced at the mattress, considering adding it to the spot next to the book, before clutching it tightly in her grasp. She did not want the petals to be crushed by the weight. So, with careful maneuvering, she placed the flower gently inside of her pillowcase. Positioning it so that it was nestled at the top of the pillow and covered by the thin case that went over it. Then, she softly laid her head towards the bottom of the pillow to sleep. Unaware that something that brought her so much joy, would soon lead to anguish.