The Crowten flew down, dodging music chimes and hanging plants and perched on a wooden stand. Quickly, it eyed the figures behind the window before hitting the small golden bell hanging from the wall. The front door sprung open and the large bird cawed for their attention.
A tall, dark-haired boy stepped out and held out his arm, but the Crowten lifted his head into the air and cawed again louder. Leouch insisted and rubbed his fingers together, signaling a snack for the bird's cooperation. He agreed and hopped from the stand with a stout bounce.
Leouch walked in and shut the door behind him and the sounds of people chatting and some crying swallowed them. The room was warm, crowded, and the walls were covered in pictures hidden beneath black sheets. With beady black eyes, the Crowten stared down the relatives all dressed in mourners' drapes. He did not care about the mourning family. He was only a bird.
Leouch lifted a heavy blanket covering the hall and ducked through, opening a door to the left. Inside was a soft blue bed and a hefty mahogany desk covered in colored leather-bound books. The Crowten leaped and fluttered across the room to a hanging nest. It was round and plush with the perfect view of the yard and his master's bed.
"Caw!" Mordecai cried out. It had been a long and brutal flight to The Empire and back. The Crowten was famished and his wings were weak and shaky.
"Quiet, Cai. We must not attract the dead's attention." Leouch hissed, raising his hand to the bird. He met eyes with the Crowten and the bird looked startled. The eyes of the Bloodline sent cold waves shooting through his hollow bones. Purple and illuminated like creatures of another world. He cawed again softer.
"I'm going. Don't bring them here." He told the bird before adjusting his sleeves and slipping out into the hallway. His skin prickled, sensing the spirits entering the house for the viewing. There was a cold breeze climbing his shoulder as he ducked beneath another blanket.
Heat greeted his face, creating an immediate dew across his forehead. The back door was wide open and sounds of soupy foods popping and bubbling were almost too loud to hear his mother speaking to herself.
"Mazeh," Leouch smiled, leaning against the short round dining table covered in food. "You shouldn't have the door open."
His mother turned around, tucking a rag in her apron belt. Sweat was beaded across her face, sticking curly baby hairs to her cheeks. She had a droopy bun of black curls wadded at the back of her head and a white streak sprouting from her widow's peak.
"Meazo." She threw her hands up in the air and then out towards him. "You shouldn't be in here. You know how the dead like you." Henrietta's soft, on the lips voice, was warm and quick. Years of schooling in The Empire had stripped the same closed-mouth accent out of Leouch's voice.
She was short and plump with the signature Valician green eyes and tan skin. She had given the same dark hair and Blisque family stripe to Leouch and his sister, but the Royal blood from his father had overcome the rest. He had the Valician height, but the bloodline's light skin and royal purple eyes.
"I know. Mordecai just flew in." He crossed the room and peeked into the pans on the stove. Red rolling vegetable soup and caramelized apple and pineapple skillet cake. Meals made for the dead.
"You haven't cooked all the sliced hagen have you?" She shook her head no and Leouch opened the bright yellow fridge. He pulled out a long glass dish and removed the lid showing a stack of thick rust-colored hagen. He pulled off a slice and put the rest back in the icebox. The hagen slice stretched to the length of his forearm and felt sticky in his hand.
"Go. I will come to get you when it's time." She dismissed him.
Mordecai squeaked silently summoning him closer. The long waving slab of hagen reflected in his eyes. He laid the meat on a plastic tray beneath the bird. A murderous flame came to the bird's eyes, and he stabbed his beak into the flesh. He made a violent sound that resembled a clog trying to clear and dove back in.
Outside the window, spirits passed walking towards the kitchen's open door. He recognized a few of the faces and some of them paused long enough to catch his eyes. Their eyes darkened and stepped closer to the glass.
Leouch leaned in close and stared blankly at them. One came closer than the rest, opening its cheek to cheek split lips. Its jaw fell limply against the neck. The teeth and tongue were black and dry. It growled squishing its head against its sharp bony shoulders. He could hear the crack of dried dead bones rubbing against each other.
It rammed the glass. It hit with a thud and fell to the ground. Mordecai jerked fluffing his feathers, so they shook. He cawed, terrified, and pecked the glass with what looked like blistering anger. He couldn't see the increasing horde collecting outside.
In the glass, Leouch could see his eyes reflecting. Even with the bright sunlight streaming in, they were brighter. He looked at his ancestors and tapped the glass, igniting a wave of shimmering drawings. They screamed one by one and threw themselves at him. The glass would never give in.
Mordecai hid in his bedding chirping throwing specks of meat from his beak. The strands of fat circled around it like a web. He jerked his head to the right and then the left, panicked, screaming for the attack to stop. He wrapped his wings over his head and chirped.
"They can't get in, Cai," he said calmly, pulling the thick black drapes closed. The thumping continued shaking the window. Leouch pulled open his nightstand and pulled out a long-necked lighter. He flicked it on, the tip sparking to life, and lit a lamp. The flame shot up inside the glass and he lowered it to a flicker.
Moans of the dead and the jumping shadows around his room brought the feeling of mourning out of him. It was dark and warm and he could hear his aunt cry. She sobbed so loudly that her voice sounded pained and weak. They echoed through the house. He sat down and cleared his throat.
YOU ARE READING
Majesty: Royal Vying
Fantasy**The First-Third Chapters (Draft)** Leouch Blisque, a Child of the Crown, is ranked number one in his generation's vie. He's next in line for the throne after twenty years of fighting through every one of his siblings. However, while they fought, d...
