Xerxyna's POV
They told Shyra to come up to my bedchamber, with a tray of food in her hands.
"Don't look her in the eye, don't even look at her feet," they warned quietly because, known to them, no one who did had lived to tell the tale.
The rumours had spread like wildfire after my birth- of how ruined I was. A prodigy from hell. The servants hid at the sight of me, and the masters urged my father to send me away. They talked of the place I would go, where they said my curse would know limits.
The door creaked open and I saw Shyra carefully open the double doors that would usher her in. Her hands shivered as she tried to balance the food firmly in place. She looked far younger than I was, only about twelve, and I felt sorry because I made her feel uneased. Leilania had been in my room the whole time, dusting and cleaning the windows for the morning. She looked at Shyra, reading her thoughts as she saw through the girl's hesitance. Without a word of reassurance, Leilania finished tidying up and packed the used rags and broom. She went out through the doors quickly.
Shyra was left alone in fear as she looked at me. Tears formed but she wouldn't let them fall.
"Leave it on the centre table," I said- only when Shyra had stared for too long, and she remembered she wasn't supposed to.
The girl servant obeyed and turned to leave. She looked back at me through the slightly closed doors as she stepped out.
"Are you afraid of me?" I asked, and I made sure my eyes bared mercilessly into the grey of Shyra's.
Her lips quivered, as they tried to mutter out a response. Quickly, she turned away and shut the door.
°
The stables had somehow become a place of fondness for me. It took me from the quarters where, to my distaste, I always had to hide and bury myself to the satisfaction of people. Horses had become better than people, and their company brought peace.
My father hadn't been too eager for me to learn horse riding. "That's no sport for a lady such as you. Learn the high manners, and you will govern states," he instructed.
But Pennitri- the horse I had found for myself- had bonded so beautifully with me, and I knew it to be fated.
"Please, father," I begged, hugging Penni by the neck as tears formed in the corners of my eyes.
He looked at me, defeated, and sighed.
"Only by one condition," he said.
He plucked a little bead from my dress and molded it within his fingers with his magick. Speckles of silver dust fell out into the wind as the craft turned into a small red hairpin in the form of a rose. He placed the fabricated jewel behind my ear, clipping the brown strands in place.
"I want you to have that. A reminder that you will always be my little love"
I smiled and tried to look past the servants that were watching from the stable as we approached. They covered their mouths, speaking into each others' ears.
"That's the witch," one servant said, pretending to feed the horses.
"I've never seen her before," another who washed the floors said.
"That's because they always keep her locked up, so she doesn't escape."
I heard them all. That was one of my gifts. The tiniest pin drop miles away could never be quiet enough- and I knew the rumours because of it. When the maids gossiped, I heard. When the stable boys said I was cursed, I knew. I always knew. Once, when I tried not knowing, I covered her ears with the soft pillows of my bed- but my heart burned instead. It burned so hot that I could not contain the tears that fell, and the magick I had been told to repress slipped through through fingers. It broke the vase beside the window. I sobbed all night after it happened, and from then on chose to ignore since I couldn't control it.
One of the stable boys was beckoned on, but with his reluctance to meet me, Zyran called another. The boy was tall and lanky, and had conspicuously never served any nobles before. He was new and lacked the dexterity. I watched as he nervously tried readying the horses. His hands shook as he struggled to buckle the straps into place. For a brief moment, when he saw that I was watching, our eyes met. I wondered if he took could sense that there was something wrong with me.
"Ready, m'Lord," he offered the reins to the horses.
My father helped me up gently, as the boy soothed the horse, after which he also took his and rode beside me.
"Careful, Xerxy. You always need to be gentle with your horse," father said. "Your horse will always be your most loyal friend when it comes to riding."
I nearly lost her balance but gripped the reins just in time. Somewhere in the brief distraction, the hairpin dropped and I hadn't noticed.