I See Faeries

~chapter one~

It Begins

~

"Cassaundra!"

I reluctantly blinked the sleep from my eyes and groaned. The sun was hardly up as of yet - and so neither should I be. What on earth was Lilia (it was her voice, I was certain) thinking, waking me in this way?

"Cassaundra!"

I sighed and gestured for the maid to pull back the coverlet, but she wasn't there. What was going on? My maid was always on hand. Always. I gingerly placed my bare feet on the chilled marble floor, and hurried for the door. I was going to chastise Lilia for her rude shouting, and then I was going to find my maid and throttle her.

"I was having an excessively pleasant dream, Lilia," I coldly informed the cook when I finally arrived downstairs. "You should not shout so. I do not enjoy being roused in such a manner. It is far too early-"

I fell silent when I finally noticed her expression. She looked stricken; her eyes wide and her whole face frozen, like someone painted her skin with wax and let it dry to a crust.

"What-" I began.

She gasped suddenly, like a corpse brought to life, and interrupted me with a frantic rush of words. "Your parents! Oh, Cassandra! I couldn't - I tried, but they - I - I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" Her chest heaved as she burst into racking sobs and slumped against the wall, sliding down until she sat on the floor. Tears streamed from her eyes; she didn't even try to hide them as she stared at me. When I stepped forward and hesitantly crouched before her, I could hear her saying something barely audible. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," she repeated over and over.

The feeling of anxiety that had begun as soon as she spoke was only growing, and I didn't know what to do. I tried to get more information from Lilia, but the cook showed no sign of even hearing me.

Knock, knock.

Someone was at the door. With a last frustrated glance at Lilia, I stood and headed for the front of the manor.

Knock, knock. Wait - was that coming from the back door? Only servants used that entrance, and all of the servants - except for Lilia - seemed mysteriously absent this morning.

With a feeling of increasing trepidation, I turned around and started for the south wing. My footsteps were uncomfortably loud in the stillness of the house, and I soon found myself tiptoeing through the dim halls. Some of the torches sat unlit in their braziers, which was strange. Normally, the servants would have been about to light them, and there would be a fire in the large brick hearth in the library. Judging by the chill of the house, no such fire had been lit.

Knock, knock. The person at the door had no manners. Couldn't they see that this was a large house, and it might take a person quite a time to reach the door?

I finally rounded the last corner before the door, and found myself face to face with . . . a man. A young man, to be precise - as he looked about my age. A very attractive young man, to be even more precise. The only mar on his near-perfect visage was a large white scar on his face. It stretched from beneath his hair on his left temple, to the corner of his mouth and all the way down his neck until it vanished beneath the collar of his tunic. Rather than detracting from his looks, the scar made him seem rakish and dangerous.

I froze. "Who . . . are you?"

"I took the liberty of letting myself in," he said. "I wanted to be sure that you were unharmed." His voice was low and velvety with a lilting accent, and I felt immediately suspicious of him. Any man with a voice like that was not to be trusted. Especially a strange man trespassing in my home.