Moonlit Scales [rewriting]

Moonlit Scales: Four

M O O N L I T   S C A L E S :
Chapter Four

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I ARRIVED HOME, still stuffed to the brim with hidden fruits and vegetables, and put my bow and quiver away near the fireplace. I had been missing for approximately an hour, but it was long enough for mayhem to take over.

I neared the kitchen, radiating pride in what I had quite literally up my sleeves, only to find Piper yelling at my father, who was seated at the kitchen table with twelve-year-old Addison on the floor, covering her ears. That enough was a sight that flared a warning in my brain, alerting me something was very wrong.

Piper never shouted, unless I had done something incredibly senseless (which I suppose was too often to claim as "never"). But to have that anger directed at my father? I wasn't even aware that she was capable of it. Secondly, Papa was out of bed. Since his health had started failing him, I never saw him anywhere except under a quilt, tucked in and frail. And Addison was the opinionated one. She would usually be up in Piper's face, arguing until the moon came up, over something as ridiculous as who used her hairbrush, not lying on the ground, blocking all noise.

"You know you can't! Look at you, Papa. You could hardly stand just now!" Piper hollered.

"Pipes, I have to do—"

"No, you don't. There are plenty of young men out there. One less soldier will mean nothing. Papa, you'll just be deadweight. You will stay home."

Papa sighed, and opened his mouth to disagree, when Piper butted in again.

"And if you die? What if you die, Papa? Leave me to support Sky and Addie on my own? Is that what you want? Have us starve to death, yeah?" she protested.

Papa didn't answer, and instead shifted when he noticed my presence, tentatively peeking by the doorframe, unsure whether to interfere. I took this as a sign to step into our petite cooking area and direct a quizzical glance at my family.

Papa sighed and stared at his lap, clearly uncomfortable. Piper whipped around and I scanned her face like the answers were written there. In a way, they were. Piper—undefeated, loyal, careful, protective, smart Piper—looked broken.

"The dragons," she was able to choke out, before collapsing into a chair. She was tightly gripping a scroll, clutching it so fiercely her knuckles were white and the center of the important parchment was wrinkled and possibly illegible. For the first time I saw how old she seemed. Only three years older than me, and already she carried that weary expression of a stressed mother, giving her eyes a very aged glaze.

The dragons. I vaguely felt my eyes widen as it clicked. It was almost winter. How did I possibly forget?

Every year, for as long as I could remember, the dragons of Luther migrated to my kingdom. One man from every household was needed to join the battle against protecting our homeland, or become imprisoned. Either way, it was death's calling.

"Papa, no," I commanded sternly, not doing so until he reluctantly met my harsh glare.

He sighed again and shook his head at nervous Addison. "Oh, Addie," he mused, "what should I do?"

Addison slowly lowered her hands, and, no longer cupping her ears, set her jaw. Her eyes boring straight into Papa's, she spoke. "Listen."

With that, my younger sister stood and, almost out of our tiny kitchen, grabbed my hand, tugging me out as well. I followed her to our bedroom, where she leaned against the door and locked it behind us.

"You and I are both aware Papa is not going to listen. So," she started conspiratorially, "we need to stop him."

"Obviously," I retorted. "Assuming you don't already have an idea—"

"Actually, I do have something in mind, but it's dangerous and you won't like it."

After a period of silence, I cocked my hips and folded my arms over my chest. "The only bad ideas are the ones that you never thought of."

Addie averted her gaze, finding the scuffed hardwood floors all of a sudden interesting. She whispered something I couldn't hear.

"I didn't quite catch that."

She blushed, not wanting to repeat it, and I had to strain my ears to pick up on the two mumbled words that would change my life.

"You go."

I couldn't tell if she was serious, but it was enough to spark a thought with which I would follow through, whether she'd let me or not.

She must have seen the expression on my face, something that gave away what was scrolling through my mind, because her eyes widened and she frantically hissed, "You can't go, either, Sky!"

"I wasn't asking for permission."

Her arms flew out to her sides and her mouth gaped. "I don't care! You're not—"

Her voice rose, so I clasped a hand over her lips before she attracted unwanted attention. "Shh! It was your idea. Would you rather Papa go?"

Her head spun furiously side to side, trying to shake off my palm. Avoiding my accusation of it being her suggestion in the first place, she continued, "I'd rather neither of you go!"

"That can't happen, Addie." I was aware that she already knew this, but she chose to ignore it.

She groaned. "Make it happen! I won't lose you, not after Mamma. They can't force Papa to go, all sick. What good would that be?"

"All the more reason that I should take his place. You were right."

"Forget what I said! I didn't think you'd actually consider it," she fumed.

"Why not? I don't want Papa to fight any more than you or Piper. It's only logical—"

"Logical? Do you mean that? Remember, you do turn into a dragon every night!" she shrieked a bit too loudly.

"I never forgot. In fact, I could use that to my advantage—"

"To what? Ensure your death? Yes, Sky, I believe that is an excellent reason to be executed," she spat mockingly.

"Quit interrupting me. What do you propose I do then, hmm? Let me in on another one of your stellar strategies," I offered bitterly.

Addison's mouth trembled and her eyes became glossy.

"No, no, Addie. Don't cry. Don't give up." I reached forward and pulled her into a comforting embrace, kissing the top of her unruly golden hair.

We swayed, and she futilely tried one last time to convince me differently. "You're a girl. If they find out—"

"They won't know." I added, "I can do this. We'll come through. I am not going to die."

Addison sniffed. "Promise?" she asked weakly, her energy gone.

Could I promise that I'd return home, uninjured, unharmed, and whole? If, God forbid, something happened and I wouldn't make it, could I securely give my little sister false hope, something she would cling onto and put her trust into until the war ended?

"I swear." And I understood how much I meant it, and that I would hold onto my word just as desperately as Addie.