Everything in my room was a glamour, except for my beautiful colored-glass windchime. Every year around my birthday, my adoptive mother would come in and attach a new colored-glass ornament. I adored how the sun would shine through them and turn my room into a rainbow of color, and on windy or stormy days, it played a gentle song.
I watched Maeve’s dark shape fly away until nothing more than a speck remained, and then I searched the skies for a dove, hoping, praying. I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to get an invitation, but at the same time, the thought terrified me. What if I failed at my spells and mess everything up like I normally did and upset Mother? Get a hold of yourself, Eden. I mentally chastised. You are a powerful sorceress. You don’t care what anyone thinks. Except, deep down, I did.
Dinner was silent except for the sound of spoons scraping across the bottom of our ceramic bowls filled with beef and barley soup and a side of homemade bread. Mother was extremely harsh tonight, and a tenseness hung in the air. Normally dinner would be filled with idle chatter, laughter, and delicious talks of curses and maladies. Everyone was anxiously watching the skies, windows, and doors for the invitation.
Aura accidently slurped her soup and was immediately set upon by a disapproving glare from Mother. “Ladies don’t slurp.”
Aura’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, Mother.”
My bowl sat untouched, my appetite nonexistent. I couldn’t help but glance over to Rosalie’s chair and wondered how she was faring. If she was in trouble, she would send word, but I couldn’t understand why she chose to go away and not come back to live with us. Her empty chair was a memorial, a reminder that one by one, each of us would eventually set out on our own adventures. Maeve’s chair was empty, but that wasn’t anything unusual because we were used to her flighty ways, much like her aviary persona.
A crash came from the front room as the door flew open and slammed against the wall. A large raven flew into the dining room with something white in its claws. It did one swoop around the kitchen before dropping its prize on the long wooden table. A flash of light and feathers blinded us as the bird shifted back into my sister.
Maeve moved over to her empty chair and filled her bowl with soup, not even mentioning the white, feathered carcass lying in the middle of the table like an obscure centerpiece.
Mother Eville only raised her eyebrows and muttered, “You’re late, dear.”
Maeve’s face glowed. “I had to pick up something.” She reached past the dead dove and grabbed a roll. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the crooked neck of the dove and the rolled-up tube with the royal seal tied to its leg. “It seems that our royal messenger dove got a bit lost. So, I had to show him the way.”
“How lost?” I asked pointedly at Maeve.
“Uh, quite lost.” Her cheeks finally started to blush when confronted with what she had just done. She shoved her roll into her mouth and took a bite, refusing to meet my gaze.
I tried to control the shaking of my hand as I reached across the table and gently untied the leather strap to release the cylindrical leather tube. I opened it and slid the rolled-up parchment into my hand. I could see golden script across the invitation, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. This was a chance for all of us to leave, to go out into the world and prove our worth to our mother. But more than that, it was just exciting to be invited to the ball. My hand stopped shaking long enough for me to read the family name across the envelope.
“It’s addressed to the daughters of Beauchamp,” I tried to not let the disappointment show. Seven heads turned to look toward Maeve for an explanation.
Maeve slammed her half-eaten roll down on her plate, scattering her silverware across the table. “Okay, fine. I flew to the palace and snuck into the secretary’s office and looked at the guest list. The house of Eville wasn’t on the list. So, I—” She waved her finger in the air. “—spelled our name on it, just as the secretary was finishing up the last batch of invitations. When he saw our name, he swore. I watched as he crossed our name out. They weren’t going to send us one.” She pouted.
One by one, my sisters’ heads or shoulders dropped as our mother’s curse followed us. Unwanted. Unloved. Forgotten. I was angry. Shouldn’t we count? Are we not good enough? Just because we’re orphans doesn’t mean we don’t deserve the same privileges as everyone else.
Maeve’s eyes flashed, and her face took on an angry sneer. “So, I followed the royal dove and tried to force it to come to our house, and when it wouldn’t, well….” She trailed off and waved her delicate hand at the dove’s carcass.
She had killed a royal dove and stolen another family’s invitation and didn’t feel the least bit remorseful—and at the moment, I didn’t either.
“Well, well, well, Maeve. You’ve outdone yourself.” Mother pushed back her chair and came over, taking the invitation from me and reading it for herself. I was the only one close enough to see her hand tremble slightly in anger. She waved her hand over the parchment, and the Beauchamp name was replaced with a name I did not recognize. Her red lipstick shone brightly against the candlelight as she looked us over one by one. “As much as I would love to send all of you, I can send only one.”
“I’ll go, Mother.” Rhea jumped up in excitement.
“No, let me go,” Meri said, her eyes flashing green. “I’ll sing them to sleep, and they’ll never wake up.”
I would not want to be in their shoes if they ever went up against an angry muse. I looked around, noticing I wasn’t the only one not making eye contact with Mother.
Honor stared at the far wall. Her hand clenched around her butter knife. I may joke that I was the worst when it came to weaving spells, but that wasn’t necessarily true. Honor, poor quiet Honor, didn’t have the gift. She was the most normal of all of us. Yes, her training wasn’t like ours. She would disappear with Lorn on long trips north where she would be trained by the elves. Mother and Lorn never told us what she was being trained in and for. Most of the year, Honor didn’t live with us. It just happened that she was back for the next three weeks. I knew that Mother wouldn’t send Honor.
My mouth went dry under Mother’s scrutiny, and I reached for the glass goblet and tried to wet my throat. For a moment, I felt a bit sorry for the royal family if either Meri or Maeve was sent.
“No, it must be Eden,” Mother’s said sternly.
I put the cup down with more force than was necessary, and it thunked loudly on the table. “Mother?” My voice came out a squeak.
“It is time, my darling. There can be no one else but you. This is your story.”
I felt my sister’s heated glare from across the room, and I tried to not look at her. Literally, I could feel the heat from Maeve’s anger scorch my skin, and I started to sweat. Why was I chosen? I wasn’t the strongest. My magic was unreliable. I jumped up from my chair and smoothed the wrinkles on my black dress. “Are you sure, Mother, that you wouldn’t want to send someone else?”
“No, Eden. It’s time. Time for you to go home.”
Home? She must be mistaken. This was home. I never wished for more. I wasn’t adventurous like my other sisters. I didn’t want to leave.