The War of Queens

Chapter 19

Sybil

 The thunder did not scare Sybil. It reminded her of home, of the wild autumn storms of the North. Sometimes, she and her sisters would sneak out in defiance to their caretakers. The lightning could strike, of course, but in the minds of foolish children, the risks were simply too low and the adventure too great. She remembered how they would run through the rain, soaking to the bone with cold drops of rain, only to be hauled inside, dried and laid to bed. Nothing was better than that; lying beneath thick covers, feeling the warmth return slowly and lull her to sleep.

 Her handmaiden had been opposed to it at first when Sybil went out of her room onto the balcony.

 “M’lady, you’ll ruin your dress,” she exclaimed.

 Sybil shrugged. “I have more.”

 And it was worth all of them to feel again what she had felt as a child. The cold was like a mother’s hymn, a lullaby that she had almost forgotten in the heat of the South. She let her eyes fall closed and mind wander, taking her far away to her home amidst the black rocks created from fire and the mountains that rose to the clouds.

 I am not a foolish child anymore, she thought, but if a lightning should strike me down, what would I lose?

 The fact that she had thought that scared her inside again, where she called for a dry nightshift. Once her hair was dry and braided, she crawled under the furs of her bed and called for another blanket. When she closed her eyes, she almost felt at home. Her hand reached under the covers, and when they found nothing but an empty mattress, her stomach felt emptied out. She knew if she cried now, no one would hear and no one would care. She was all alone. No matter how much it rained, her sisters were still in their separate rooms - leaving tomorrow, if the weather got better.

 I will be all alone. The thought brought forward the tears she had known to be on their way, and she wailed into her pillow until sleep took her.

 When she was awakened by a handmaiden shaking her, her eyes itched with tiredness and the room was still dark. Her mind clawed at the dreams that were leaving her, but the handmaiden was relentless.

 “M’lady,” she said, in a shrill, timid voice, “you must wake up!”

 Sybil groaned in annoyance with the insolent girl. “The sun hasn’t even risen yet.”

 “But, m’lady, it’s midday,” she continued.

 Sybil most wanted to slap her then. “How stupid are you?” she snapped, sitting upright in her bed.

 “It’s midday,” the handmaiden repeated.

 “But there’s not sun,” she pointed out, narrowing her eyes rudely.

 “No, but…”

 She flung aside the covers and stepped out of the bed. With angry, quick steps, she went to the balcony and drew aside the curtains. Sure enough, the world was still dark - though not as black as night. The world seemed ashen, as if stuck in the tired light just before dawn’s magnificent yellows and reds. Everything seemed plain and boring and the colors blended together.

 The sky was dark, but not black, and the sun was there… she thought. Above the houses was a black disk, but from behind it, light as clear as that of the sun shone, as if it had been covered by a great shadow. Far away to west, she saw lightning, and after several minutes, the low rumble of thunder could be heard.

 “What’s happening?” she asked.

 The handmaiden was right beside her. “I don’t know. The Servants have called for conjugation. That hasn’t happened in a century.”