Chapter One- Breaking Curfew
I like to think that there are two different worlds. One is bright, clear, and safe. The other is dark, full of shadows and danger. Day and Night.
Ona, the Head Librarian, taught me I have nothing to fear from the second world, while the first is an enemy to conquer. In the daylight, in the world lit by the harsh sun, secrets can be stowed away, and smiles can conceal daggers. Night, she says, for all its lack of light, illuminates the secrets I should truly fear. “Never trust a person you’ve seen only by day,” she’s said a thousand times.
Those words floated through my mind as I slipped outside the Library, leaving the door ajar. For someone who claims to believe I’ve nothing to fear from the night, Ona seems awfully concerned for my safety when I break curfew. Last time she caught me, I was forbidden to leave my small antechamber for two days, and all my books were taken away. That was last year- before the plague struck.
Despite the fact that night is as safe as high noon, I was frightened as I made my way silently down the narrow corridor towards the Mirror Room. Candles on the wall flickered softly making the shadows dance. Perhaps, I thought, night is frightening in its own right.
Heavy, uneven footsteps made me retreat into a dark corner, unlit by any lamp or candle, and shrink down inside my clothing. Muttering reached me in my hiding place, sounding slightly drunk and angry. A man’s voice, about thirty or forty, if my ears served me well.
“Out of bed…not my job…when the King hears about this…where is he…I ought to thrash…” Confused, I leaned forward slightly, straining to hear more clearly what the man was saying. Apparently, the two inches difference in my location didn’t work sufficiently to give me a decent idea of who the man was looking for, but I did get a glimpse of dark leather boots, a fine tunic embellished with the Royal Seal, and a sword dangling from a scabbard. Why was a royal guard looking for someone out of bed?
It seemed to take forever for the guard to reach the end of the corridor, and even longer for his footsteps to fade away completely. I exhaled with a whoosh, my tension draining away. He hadn’t seen me.
I leaned forward, stretching to get the stiffness out of my neck, restraining a yawn. A shining, gleaming pendant swung out of my tunic, suspended on a fine silver chain. My hand reached up to hold it and I clutched the moon pendant tightly, feeling the smoothness against my palm, the edges digging into my flesh as held onto it as if for dear life. In some way, I guess I was holding on for something akin to life- a place where I’d belong. For thirteen years, I’d lived in the Palace Library, raised by stern librarians who were hesitant in their willingness to provide me with a home. The only thing that truly was mine, that they didn’t have the right to take away, was the necklace and pendant.
A moonbeam that landed on my pendant pulled me from my reverie. I tucked it away again, so it was hidden beneath my threadbare grey tunic. It wouldn’t do for an unwanted orphan like me to have anything so fine hanging about my neck. Anyone would think I’d stolen the pendant on its chain.
Shaking my head to dislodge the weighty memories like so many cobwebs, I stole out of the corner, careful to stay within reach of the stone wall as I headed towards the staircase I knew led to the Mirror Room. I hadn’t seen my reflection since before the plague had struck, and I wanted to know how I looked. Ona would have dismissed my desire as vain and silly, but the Mirror Room beckoned nevertheless.
At last, I reached the staircase, wound in a tight spiral, that lead to my destination. The steps were hard, uncarpeted stone, the banister unpolished and aged, smooth as a pebble worried at by the sea. Not that I’ve ever held a pebble like that. The sea’s miles and miles away from the Palace, and the farthest I’ve ventured from the Library is to Market Street, which I can run to without tiring.
At the top of the stairs, a window stood between two doors, one labeled “Mirrors” in ancient, faded script, the other titled “Spare parchment.” I knew, from experience and questioning the servants, that both of these rooms had newer counterparts on the First Floor of the Palace, where the Royal Family could reach them without so much trouble. But no one had ever bothered to remove the mirrors or spare parchment from these rooms, and I opened the creaky door with a small smile on my face.
There was no light in the room, and I grabbed a candle, lighting it with a match held in my skirt’s pocket, then hurried to my favorite mirror, one that was tall and narrow, with gilded edges.
I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me.
She was too thin, bony, sickly looking, with eyes large in her pale face. A long braid of hair hung down her back, its dark brown seeming black in the dim candle light. I moved one hand to my face, and the girl in the mirror did the same, in perfect sync with my motion. Of course. The shadow of Aliya who stared at me was really me! A tear slid down my face, leaving a shiny trail.
I’d known the plague had taken much of me with it, leaving me skinnier than before, paler, weaker. But even when I took the time to ponder my appearance, I’d never thought I’d look like, like- a banshee! No wonder people muttered after me.
Furious at the mirror for showing me as the creature I was, I turned away quickly, storming to the door so fast a swirl of dust rose up behind me. The hallway was dark, the lone window showing only half of the waning moon.
The back of my neck prickled, and in one movement I spun around, eyes straining to see anything, anyone. My gaze fell to the stairs, and I saw a second set of footprints through the layer of gray dust. I followed the tracks to the other door, which said ‘Spare Parchment’ in its faded scrawl.
A creak, the whisper of door against floorboards, and a pair of eyes, darkly colorless in the gloom, met mine.
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Thanks for reading, and please critique. Also, if anyone could possibly PM me with a better title, that'd be wonderful!
