Orange Shadow Magic: Heir to The Throne. Book 2

Chapter 3: A Bird's Flock

Wrendylan, a timid thirteen-year-old, looked cautiously around her small rental apartment as she awaited her mother's strict instruction for that lonesome day. Dylan's healthy brown hair was a mess over her fully flushed face, and she didn't mind. It was a desperately needed reward from that tight bun she always wore at her work. "Mother?" Dylan called to the kitchen area, silently begging her mother to answer her pleas. The unwelcoming hallways stared back at her as she warily surveyed her unusually secretive childhood home. But, she lived in an apartment in the thick of the city? How hard could she be to find? In utter dismay, Dylan's wings suddenly got a mind of their own and started flapping together, carrying Dylan unsteadily from the same-old ground she always stood on.

"Ah, Wrendylan, there you are! I've been looking for you!" A rather stout and fierce-looking young woman named Tori Smith appeared from her living corners and surveyed Dylan's mangled appearance. And as Dylan kept roaming around the living room, not giving a care in the world that she was flying, Tori's face soured, and she placed her hands on her hips. "Wrendylan, we've discussed this! No flying in the house! I've kept you sheltered and secure from the real world for far too long, and now that you'll be getting a new job, you need to get rid of old habits!" Dylan frowned, then folded her wings back up again, and floated safely back down to the comfort of solid ground. "Anyway, Wrendylan, darling, I better touch you up before your new job!"

"I've seen the contract," Dylan replied, coldly. She was glaring harshly, which made Tori uncomfortable. Slowly, Tori's face turned into inevitable dread, a gasp filling up the lowly silence.

"The contract?" Tori whispered her face paling quicker and quicker, stopping at a ghostly white.

"Yeah. The contract for my position at the Rosen Estate."

"Oh," Tori said. She pursed her lips, and the color returned to her face as an awkward silence began to filter in between them. Finally, Dylan disrupted the still air and addressed her mother's concerns.

"Why? What did you think I was talking about?" Dylan's breath caught in her throat. Was her mother finally going to talk about her father? Even if the Rosens were practically Corrane royalty, and even that had shocked her tiny little bones; if Tori was going to talk about dad, that would be the most shocking surprise of all.

"Oh, no darling. I was just thinking about something, that's all. Now you get off to work now, dear. Nothing to worry about, nothing at all......." Tori rambled. Did Tori think that Dylan was untrustworthy? Was that it? Just because Dylan had an odd talent, that didn't mean that she couldn't have friends her age or explore the environment. Standing in the doorway, Tori gave a tight smile. "Well, you know where to find me, Wrendylan." And then, Dylan's mother was off, out through the door and into the cold, chilly world. 

But, Dylan was still shocked by her mother's weird reaction. Why didn't her mother answer the question? And why was her mother trying to hide the truth from her? She couldn't hide the truth forever. 

Confused, Dylan glanced at the only clock in their entire apartment building and realized it might be the last time she would see this place again. Often times, servants had to stay overnight, especially since she was a housekeeper now. Dylan brought a brush down her silky hazel hair and stared into the mirror at her eyes. Her mysterious eyes held many specks of black, brown, white, and very dark blue, rather like the color of a wren's wings. Oddly enough, Dylan was very nimble, speedy and quiet, much like the personality of a bird, and was the fastest, nimblest, and the quietest person she knew. Additionally, she even had wings! Maybe this was a coincidence, but had her mother named her Wrendylan because of all the abilities she possessed? 

However, Dylan didn't pay any of it any mind and established a white apron over her dark brown shirt and white pants. Her mother had made clothes for her that she could put her wings through, but these clothes had to go over her folded wings, which sucked a lot. Dylan had to be professional, and she was constantly warned to stay away from other people. As her mother said, the less you tell, the less anyone can know. Dylan pulled herself together, then walked out the front door, and locked it. Her time as a servant would now begin.

Dylan peered into her mistress' corners and was shocked. Her mistress had silk nightdresses, fur boots, full-length fur coats, velvety sweaters and skirts, rows of dark purple dresses, and light blue mittens, as well as an inky scarf, which was hanging from her wardrobe like an unruly waterfall. Remembering that she needed to be respectful and must have a good impression, Dylan straightened her back and knocked purposefully on her young mistress' slightly opened doors.

"Come in!" A polite voice rang out from the other side of the oak doors. Dylan shuffled inside the room and inspected every inch of the room for dust, or for something mislain that she could clean up. After all, that was her job, right? Then she spotted the corner of the room with an ebony bed, dusty closets, and a room that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in centuries. Dylan nervously made her way over to it, but then the same voice stopped her again. "Please, don't!" The teen cried, and Dylan looked over to see a girl with long reddish-blonde curls, fearless emerald green eyes, and full lips gesture for Dylan to come back over to her. The teen seemed shocked that there was a new housekeeper and instantly began to ask questions.

"My name is Amber Elizabeth Rosen," she began and gestured to the corner of the room that she had asked Dylan to not touch. "Never touch that part of the room, ever. But first, what happened to Olivia?" Amber seemed to be in distress, so Dylan told her.

"Olivia was moved downstairs, to clean the kitchen," Dylan answered, her shoulders slumping as she slowly became relaxed in Amber's presence.

Not wanting to be rude, Amber looked up at the new girl, and was astonished by her, black, white, grey, and brown eyes that looked strangely odd, and also by the slight bulge in the back of the young girl's servant outfit. "What is your name?" Amber asked her housemaid. She was much younger than herself. The girl looked to be around age thirteen, meanwhile Amber was fifteen.

"I'm Wrendylan, but I prefer to be called Dylan," Dylan answered, staring at Amber in slight discomfort. She didn't want to come off as rude, or anything of the sort.

"Just Dylan?" Amber asked suspiciously, having an odd amount of instability with Dylan's statement.

"My mother has a last name, but I don't." Not wanting to be more informal than she already was, Dylan excused herself and hurried down the staircase to collect a healthy breakfast for Amber. The kitchen servants were abuzz in the dining hall, serving breakfast to the landlord, who was Mr. Rosen himself. Dylan stopped in her tracks, and then shakily continued forward, stopping to bow gracefully in his presence. Dylan eyed him warily as he approached her from the dining counter.

"Wrendylan, I presume?" he whispered under his breath. He had a deep, welcoming voice. Even though he was whispering, his voice boomed across the cavernous halls and was carried deep into the kitchen where the food was made. 

Dylan nodded her head, just a twitch, and grabbed Amber's food: a warm platter of sunny-side-up eggs with a side of crispy toast and jam. As Dylan ascended the stairs, she could not shake off the feeling that something very terrible had happened in this house, a long time ago, something involving Mr. Rosen and his mysteriously-intrigued daughter. Something terribly wrong.