Smooth as silk, tough as steel and the color of the risen moon, the cloak was clearly costly; more a work of art than a thing to be worn day-to-day. Meira wondered if the King was trying to buy her loyalty. Such a gift was something you would give Princesses, or Ladies Of The Court, not some foreign Mage-girl about to make her first appearance in court. Meira was accustomed to wearing the clothes of a boy; black, crude leather that would hide dirt and stains. White attracted dirt, dust and other unsavory substances like nothing else. Clearly, the King was so used to thinking everyone lived like him, with servants at his beck and call and rooms full of clothes that he would give a Mage something of white.
Jythis cooed over the cloak, too busy greedily eyeing the soft material to remember that bloodstains were rather tricky to remove, especially from pale colors.
“What a good and gracious man the King is, to give you such a precious gift out of the kindness of his heart! And white too, the color of royalty. Oh Meira, he must have important plans for you!”
Jythis clapped her hands together excitedly, the folds of her faded green robes rustling slightly. Meira forced her face to remain impassive. Jythis had been the King’s own Mage, and knew more about magic than most of the books Meira had been forced to study. Twenty years ago, however, an attempt had been made on the King’s life. Jythis had saved the man, but just barely. The price for going back in time and stopping the assassin before he could even pull out his blade was great. Only a Master could have preformed such a feat. Jythis had once been such a Master.
But no longer. Going back in time and altering the past, even for a cause as worthy as saving the King, went against the Laws of Magic. Jythis woke up the next morning stripped of her powers. Now the King had a new Mage, barely older than Meira, and both Jythis and the aging Queen were green-eyed with jealousy. Her powers gone, the spell of beauty dropped, and Jythis became the shriveled old hag that all humans of that age are. Once strong and beautiful, a fearless warrior of magic, Jythis now oversaw all new servants who entered the castle; helping them settle in, and assigning them to places best suited to their skills.
A long way to fall. Yet Jythis still fawned over the King as if she was an unknown nobleman’s daughter, and he was the only one who held the knowledge of her parent’s. “This color will look so nice with your complexion! And with that red dress the Queen so kindly passed down to you…why, people will not be able to take their eyes off you!” The old woman pressed the soft fabric against Meira’s cheek, as if to once again emphasize the difference.
They both turned towards the mirror, and Meira sullenly studied the face that greeted her every morning. Meira was not of this Kingdom, that much was clear. Skin the color of the sweetened chocolate that Ladies liked to eat, and hair as glossy and dark as the wing’s of a raven. Pupils as gold as the crown that adorned the King’s head. The whites of her eyes had long since darkened to the deepest of blacks; the sign of a Mage. Even Jythis’s own plum-colored eyes were set in deep pools of onyx. Mage’s Mark was what people called the blackening of eyes. On people with fair skin, like Jythis, the affect was startling, even seductive. But on Meira, it was hardly noticeable. Natural, even, the blackened whites looks, when set against her large almond eyes and sharp facial bones. A strong face, people said. Bold features. An exotic beauty.
She did not believe a word they said. “Do not be foolish, you silly old bat!” Meira snapped, brushing aside Jythis’s compliments wit her usual cruel manner. “The color white will only draw more attention to my dark skin! In a room of people like yourself, I shall stick out like a sore thumb!” She turned away from the mirror and pursed her lips, ignoring the slight stab of pain that always accompanied treating people the way she had just treated Jythis.
The old woman sighed. “Perhaps. But enough of this idle chatter. Head to the washroom, child. The servants have drawn up a bath for you, and I have instructed then to scrub from your body everything but your flesh and the hair on your head. After all, you must look your best for your audience with the Court. When you have dried, come back to me, and I shall help you dress, as well as style that hair of yours. Such a pretty assert, and so deserving of much more than just a simple braid. Mayhaps an imitation of the Queen’s hair from just a few short days ago…?” Jythis nodded to herself, as if already envisioning what Meira would look like once Jythis was done with her.
Meira scowled. “I told you, I refuse to wear a dress! I’m a Mage, not some Dutchess!” A dress hindered her ability to run, and the extensive sleeves made it difficult to cast a spell, much less throw a knife. She may have been a girl, but even the Temple Masters saw it was pointless to try and train a Mage in a full-length skirt and tightly drawn bodice.
Jythis frowned as well, her temper wearing thin. She and Meira had been fighting over this trivial matter ever since the dark-skinned girl had been sent up to the castle from the Southern Mountain Temple. “Nonsense! You cannot make your first appearance in court wearing clothes made for a boy. Be reasonable Meira! And besides, you are not going to show-off your skills. You are going to meet the King, and the other Skyfliers, to present yourself to the other Lord and Ladies who might very well one day depend on your abilities. There will be plenty of other Mage’s to protect the Court should something happen, so stop worrying. One day dressed as a civilized woman will not kill you.” As she spoke, Jythis folded the cloak over and over until it was a neat bundle.
Meira said nothing, just continued to glower at the old woman before turning and storming from the room, her bare feet creating no sound on the smooth marble floor. “The washroom, dear!” Jythis called after her, but Meira ignored her. Had she been given a choice, she wouldn’t have come here, to the King’s castle. She would have been perfectly content to end up living as a simple hedgewitch, curing small children of colds and jinxing warts off the faces of peasant girls.
But she was a Mage. And Mages didn’t get a say in their own future.
