Heir of the Underground

Chapter 25: Prissayne

Days went by and there was still no word from Sorcha. Her lack of a response worried Prissayne, who, after having spent her entire life by Sorcha's side, mourned their separation. Her other half had been cut from her, the cord that tied them together had been snipped. And now communication had been too.

With every passing day, she came to a new conclusion, trying to find a reason as to why Sorcha wouldn't be answering. The fear, of course, was that something had happened to her. But Prissayne knew such news would have arrived sooner rather than later. The death of the new Queen of Tanasis would have reached Keddeirin in no time. Gossip spread quicker than the plague.

The conclusions that Prissayne drew over the course of the week were ones that nitpicked her role as a sister, trying to place blame on herself for Sorcha's lack of a response.

Prissayne had always taken the leadership position, and Sorcha had always followed along, not seeming to care that she was the second in command. But as Prissayne reflected longer, the more she worried that she had held on a little too tight, that she had made all the decisions for her sister, and that she had made Sorcha feel helpless and dumb.

She certainly didn't feel that she had done that, but was that just because that wasn't her intention? Prissayne's intention and Sorcha's perceptions didn't have to match, and so it was highly possible that they didn't.

And it was that sudden thought, accompanied by sudden regret, that ate at Prissayne.

On one morning, one which was laden with Prissayne's inner anxiety that she was entering a lifetime of never hearing from Sorcha again, Eldridge sat, painting. Prissayne, who was normally attentive to his work, hardly focused, hardly watched his little brushstrokes, or the colors he selected from the palette.

It was unlike her to doubt herself, especially when it came to her twin. And it was a new feeling that she didn't like, which is what brought her back to it every time. There was a deep seeded hope that if she returned to the doubt she'd find a piece of information or an idea that would disprove it and end it forever.

All it really did was dig her farther into the ground.

Whenever her head grew to be too much, she would return to the real world for a little bit, just long enough to watch what Eldridge was doing, but not long enough to really make out what he was painting. But after he reached a certain point in his painting, she looked up just long enough to find Eldridge painting a familiar face.

"Why are you painting her?" Prissayne asked, nearly startled out of her skin. It was Aurelia. Seeing the girl's face again was enough to set her thinking about her letter to Sorcha.

Is that why she hadn't responded? Because of what it had contained about Laurent? Was she so in shock that she wasn't saying anything? That seemed like a more favorable answer than her being spiteful.

Somehow, Prissayne hadn't even stopped to consider that. Sorcha was naïve at times. Perhaps she had thought higher of Laurent than Prissayne had always assumed.

Eldridge shrugged, adding purple highlights to the mane of hair that he had painted onto the girl. "There was a painting that reminded me of her in Rheolaeth. It hung in one of the hallways, and was of this pretty woman with pale blue eyes, snow white skin, and coppery hair."

"That doesn't sound very much like Aurelia," Prissayne countered teasingly.

"But they had the same nose, the same smile, the same chin," Eldridge murmured, his voice matter of fact, as it often was. "There is a more to a person than their color. There is structure too. Their structures are the same."