FLIGHTS OF FANCY, FLIGHTS OF FREEDOM

THE HOUSE HELD MANY SECRETS, she learned over the years. Hidden passageways, scratchings in stone, rooms she hadn't seen before. There was a deserted gallery in the North Wing that might have been used as a ballroom before the Grand Gallery had been constructed. Mosaic pieces of regal gentlemen and beautiful ladies with puffy gowns decorated the walls; oil paintings of Autumn landscapes; marble sculptures depicting the Mother and the Cauldron...

Sometimes when there would be some grand fete that Auroria was not allowed to attend, instead confined in her own wing of the House, she would use the passageways hidden behind bookshelves and walls to learn, to see other people, to know a life outside of Vanserra and the House.

She would peek through trellis panels in the walls, thrown in the darkness that her friends, the shadows, provided for her and she would watch on as people - her people - laughed and drank and partied, completely aware of the little girl in the walls that wished more than anything to join them.

Only once had she heard them talk about her. It had been a stern-looking lady with greying hair scraped back in a bun so taut it looked like it hurt. She wore a magnificent fox-fur coat and her scarlet-lined lips were almost always pressed in a thin, disapproving line. Auroria had never seen anyone look quite so old.

"Brilliant soiree as always, Lady Vanserra," the old woman preened. She had cast her eyes around almost theatrically and, in so doing, afound her attention drawn by the various portraits on the walls and inadvertently landing on Auroria. Auroria had hitched a breath and stepped back into the great darkness of the damp passageway as if the woman could see her - which was silly, of course. "I had hoped to see the youngest Vanserra in attendance tonight."

"All in due course, Lady Napier," said Nissa.

"Well, I should hope it be sometime soon. You've kept us all in suspense long enough, hm? We are all so eager to meet the High Lord's daughter - my son spares no acclaim about the Lady Auroria."

Auroria knew the Napiers - she saw Lord Napier practically every week, shadowing her father alongside Lord Marrone. The two were his most trusted advisors as Autumn's Second and Third Families. This lady must be his mother... or grandmother... wife, perhaps?

She shuddered. No way. Lord Napier was old but not that old.

"You and our daughter would be fast friends, Lady Napier. Two ladies hungry for knowledge. I am sure there are many a thing she would love to learn from you - but in due course," Nissa repeated with the firm yet alluring voice of a High Lord's wife.

"Whatever are you waiting for, Lady Vanserra?" asked Lady Bardisle.

Auroria recognised half of them from the miniatures Governess Eden had her learning. For what purpose, she knew not, because it wasn't like she was going to meet them anytime soon.

"She is a sickly girl, you see-"

She reclined back as if the wooden panels beneath her fingers scalded her. Sickly? She had never so much had a sneeze!

"-and the High Lord is most fond of her. There are some things we would rather not chance to fate."

The ladies around Nissa Vanserra hummed and nodded as if they perfectly understood, but the hesitation and ill-concealed judgment remained if one looked hard enough. And there was one girl behind the walls, away from the scrutiny of other gazes, who was assuredly looking hard enough.

Come on. Question her. Push her. Make her change her mind, she chanted.

Indeed, there was a long way yet to go for her sixteenth birthday, the birthday in which it was customary for High Fae girls to debut into society, meet bachelors, and continue the long line from whence they hailed. But, still, Auroria was at an age that she knew it was strange for her to be friendless, peerless, anything-less.

The only hope she had before her sixteenth - which was too far away - was having others convince her parents because Cauldron knows she couldn't bring herself to ask them again.

Father became too scary the last time she asked him.

"Is it the Frailty?" questioned Lady Bardisle.

"Don't be daft," Lady Marrone hissed. "The last High Fae afflicted from it died too long ago."

Mother's gaze snapped towards her and after a beat, she released a faint, "...Beron would not appreciate us speaking of such things."

"Of course not," Lady Napier nodded, wrapping a hand around Nissa's wrist gently. "This is the High Lord's blood we speak of, Lady Bardisle. Who are we to question its strength?"

Lady Bardisle had turned terribly pale and what frustrated Auroria even further was how they ceased the conversation altogether as if it were a plague they could not risk touching.

The shadows had snuck her a slice of blueberry tart - a dessert that was available to her practically every day but seemed the more delicious tonight only because it was out of her reach. She had seen a girl with a pretty ribbon in her hair and a smartly dressed boy in his suit shorts run up to the dessert table and nab a couple. Watching them munch on it as they giggled and chased each other only sent a bitter taste coursing on Auroria's tongue. Here they were enjoying the creamy cheeses and succulent porks, drinking sweetwine, and dancing delicate dances, and she - a Vanserra, for Cauldron's sake! - was confined to dank stone passageways and thick cobwebs and an echo that seemed to go on forever.

She nibbled on it until she saw the ladies Marrone and Bardisle part away from Mother and her enlarged company. They disappeared out of the banquet hall and into the corridor, one whispering non-stop into the other's ear. Auroria dusted the crumbs away and, curiously, followed them.

"-says that she's fit as a fiddle, and you know my husband, he seldom hands out compliments if they were an inch unfounded," came Lady Marrone's shrill whispers.

There was less noise and hubbub out here than in the hall. Every step of her kitten-heel slippers clicked on the stone floor. She could retreat where the party was or - if she were really a good daughter - back into her chambers, but then Lady Bardisle said: "Did you see how skittish Nissa became when Lady Napier broached the topic? You could smell her discomfort, and it wasn't because of the old hag!"

Their laughter bounced off the corridor walls as they walked further down, away from Auroria. The passageway did not follow their path, but rather adjacent, leading outside where it opened into a stone wall covered in moss and ivy. She would have to show herself if she wanted to follow them, given that they headed in the complete opposite direction, likely towards the ladies' parlour.

"Perhaps the High Lord's simply overprotective of the girl," conceded Lady Marrone. "From the sounds of it, she certainly does not suffer from the Frailty. My husband says she is sharp as a tack, if a little naive, but that's to be expected."

"I'd like to match her up with my boy. It has been far too long since a Bardisle married into the Family," Lady Bardisle muttered.

Auroria crinkled her nose. Ew.

"You might want to stave any talks of betrothal until after she's debuted and you've met her."

"Whatever do you mean?"

There was a sly smile on the edge of Lady Marrone's lips. "As I said, my husband relays bountiful information about Auroria Vanserra."

"Such as...?"

"To discuss such a thing would be nothing short of treasonous, but let us just say that there is a certain detail - above all - about the girl that would be put to question. Oh, don't look at me like that. You know what they say about the Forest House. The walls are always listening."

Auroria blinked and drew away from the light seeping through the lattice pattern of the trellis.

· ─────── ·☽𖥸☾· ─────── ·

The Frailty.

Whatever in the Cauldron it was, there was no answer in the main library, which told Auroria that it was either dreadfully boring or scandalously forbidden.

She dared not ask Governess Eden about it, because then she would have to admit that she heard about it whilst spying on guests when she should have been in bed asleep. But she wanted to know what it was mainly because no one ever spoke of good things in whispers. And also because it could solve her life's greatest mystery.

Why couldn't she be like the other High Fae children?

She knew the children of Autumn's ruling families weren't stuck in their estates. She'd heard plenty of stories from her brothers in their boyhoods and seen plenty of children attend balls and events in the Forest House.

Stuck in the labyrinth of her thoughts, she did not even register the dulcet laughter that approached her in the hallways the following morning. Nor did she hear her brothers when they spoke.

"Ah, it's the little runt," Caius grinned. "Fancy a lesson? It's a fine day for it."

"What? Now? Out in the open?" Malachi snorted. "Father would be livid."

"No, I'll just take her to one of the yards in East. Come on, Malachi. Don't tell me you aren't just dying to test the runt's mettle."

"I'm just dying not to actually die."

"That was the wettest thing you've ever said. You're actually scared of what three-foot Auroria can do?"

"More like what six-foot Beron can do," he rolled his eyes. "But you be my guest. Satiate my curiosity also, whilst also saving my hind." Malachi cast his eyes downwards to Auroria, who was still chewing on her lip. "Sister? All alive in there?"

His hand on her shoulder jolted her back down to reality.

"Oh. Hello, Brothers, my apologies, I'm a little spaced out," she said politely. "How was the ball last night?"

"You didn't miss much," was what Malachi always said, even if it had been the most entertaining party in the world. He said as much now, though Auroria scarcely registered that.

Caius scrunched up his nose, a little unsettled. His patience for her was paper-thin, practically non-existent. "Fuck's happened to her? She's being weirder than usual."

Swearing is the lowest form of intelligence, was what Auroria would have ordinarily said, which would have grated Caius' bones even further, if she wasn't so caught up in Lady Marrone and Lady Bardisle's words from the night before. What was the Frailty? Was it serious? Only a really serious thing would stop her from living a normal life, right? Because it really sounded like more and more people were wanting to meet her, and yet Mother and Father excused her for being sickly time and time again.

Whatever the Frailty was, she needed to get rid of it, and quickly.

Caius snapped his fingers mere centimetres from her face. "Auroria."

She blinked.

Her brothers stared back down at her, tall and handsome as they all were.

"What's the Frailty?" she blurted out.

Her eyes widened and she bit her tongue.

These were so the wrong brothers to ask about this. It would inevitably lead to the same line of questioning: How did you hear about this? How did you speak to Lady Bardisle? When were you at a ball? What secret passageway? And, consequently, her personal nightmare: Are these shackles too tight on you?

"The Frailty?" Malachi parroted.

She nodded a little sheepishly.

"Beats me," he shrugged. "Sounds like Oberon after he's met a new girl."

"Or Lucien after one night of drinking," Caius huffed a laugh. Suddenly, he paused, and something flashed across his face. He bent at the knees slightly. "But, hey, do you know the best place to find out?"

Auroria could not help but narrow her eyes in suspicion. The last time Caius was helpful, she accidentally painted the wrong blade's hilt. Virgil's blade, who was none too pleased to see little roses on his prized sword. She had been hanging upside down on a redwood sequoia for far too long before Oberon came looking for his promised newly decorated sword.

But, still, this was a curiosity too tempting to ignore.

She sighed. "I've already tried the main library and I really doubt your own libraries will have it if-"

"Yes, yes, hush now," Caius waved away dismissively.

Auroria clenched her fists in irritation.

"Have you tried Father's study?"

"Father's study?" she echoed. "I'm not allowed in there. No one is."

"Speak for yourself, runt, because I am."

"What?! How?" she demanded and in her heated state she missed the questioning look Malachi threw Caius.

"There's no use for you to be in there. There aren't any dolls or toys."

"I don't play with dolls."

"What? You don't have the dolls I gifted you anymore?" Malachi asked, a little offended.

She folded her arms, holding her chin high. "Well, I don't play with dolls. They're there for decoration in my chambers and sometimes they'll want to have tea or- It doesn't matter! How can I get in Father's study?"

"Why, how do you enter any room? You simply walk in," Caius laughed tauntingly.

She blushed red. She always hated saying stupid things in front of her brothers.

"Look, there's a key - you know how that works, right? A key. It's warded, too, so you'll sense the magic, but don't worry. It wards away anyone who wishes to do him harm."

"Do you wish to do Father harm?" Malachi asked. There was a subtle overtone of seriousness in his words and it struck her as unsettling how both brothers seemed to fall still and quiet waiting for her response.

"No! Of course not!"

"There's daddy's little girl," Caius grinned.

"Where do I get the key? You said there's a key."

Caius paused. "I'll tell you if you get me something from there."

Auroria narrowed her eyes - this time, her alarms were blaring with suspicion. "Why don't you grab it?"

He raised his hands. "Fair enough. Look, I did lie to you. I'm not allowed in there anymore because I may or may not have borrowed too much of his gold. But listen, he confiscated one of my daggers and I'd really bloody like it back."

"I don't know..." She continued chewing on her lip.

"He won't even notice. He confiscated it long before you were born, I doubt he even remembers he did so. But listen, if you're too scared to-"

Auroria straightened. "I'm not too scared!" she insisted. Caius' smile deepened wickedly.

"Very well. The key is in the hallway, behind the portrait of Magnus Vanserra."

"Magnus Vanserra...?"

"Our many-greats grandfather," Malachi explained.

"Do you think he'll mind? Father?"

Caius sighed and crouched low, now, so that they were eye-level. "You know Father - in the pursuit of excellence and knowledge, he'll allow for anything. He has this incredible collection of rare books and trinkets he's collected over the years. Magical objects, ancient scrolls, all the like."

"Really?"

"He's a conqueror, a war victor, you know. You don't think he collected any special trinkets over the years? If a measly book is what you seek, then I thoroughly doubt Father will raise a fuss over a book."

Malachi shrugged. "I suppose that's fair."

"He won't mind?" Auroria asked again.

Caius smiled. He pressed a hand against her chubby cheek. "Of course not."

She did not, in fact, find a book on the Frailty.

Well, it wasn't like it was at the forefront of her mind - nor Caius' blade - for as soon as she stepped into Father's office, childlike fascination washed all over her.

It was marvellous, almost as large as her entire wing. Arched ceilings, glass-stained windows, polished aspen wood. True to Caius' words, she found many dusty tomes that detailed histories, magicks, personal accounts of High Lords of centuries past. The tang of magic was strong in here, stronger than anything she'd ever felt before in the House.

She sat on the floor and read one of the first journals - it belonged to the first Vanserra High Lord who overthrew the Bernardis.

It struck her as curious, for Eden only mentioned them in passing. House Bernadi was long gone now. No one ever spoke about them, even if it were their ancestors who built the Forest House.

The Bernardi family tree is ancient as it is noble. But trees die. They decay and soon become nothing but ash and forgotten memories, matter not if they once ruled the wood or were the most magnificent creation. I do not plan on planting trees. Mine shall be a dynasty, her ancestor had written in an ink that looked fresh to this day.

She wondered where she'd slot in amongst all of this. Whether she'd be a chapter in a book chronicling the Vanserras, or a footnote or a brief mention under her father's biography and her brother's - whichever one succeeded him. Her whole life reduced to one sentence - quite like the Bernardis in how Governess Eden refused to speak more than ten words about them.

She slammed the book shut, no longer wanting to read anymore.

There were odd little objects that ordinarily looked, well, rather ordinary but the girl could sense the magic that radiated from them. A set of pearls displayed on a velvet bust for no one to see; a sword whose metal seemed to ripple as though it were the surface of water; a severed hand with long, talon-like nails, embalmed and clutching a ruby-red stone that glistened and carried whorls of magic swirling inside... Auroria stayed far away from that. The magic stung her nose.

She sat at her father's chair and splayed her arms across the table. This was where he must sit with his advisors in front of him - sometimes, if she stood on the right balcony at the right time, she'd listen in on their meetings. A band of assassins spotted in a nearby village, an increase of people trespassing over Autumn due to Spring's too-high tithes, and broken marriage alliances between Day and Dawn, but to name a few.

Come.

Auroria froze.

The study was silent save for the hollow ticking of a metronome above the grand piano.

My child.

Was it the shadows? It was never by word that she understood them - she just... did. But this voice, she knew not if it was spoken aloud into the air or infiltrating her mind.

Caius was right. This is a place filled with magic. And she should get out now because a voice in one's head couldn't be cause for good. What if it was a daemati?

The cherub, child.

No, not daemati.

Daemati were known to wield their powers for political prowess, not to speak weird riddles that made zero sense because there was no cherub in Father's offi-

Oh.

There was a cherub - not in the winged baby form she'd read about, but encased in metal, holding a trumpet into the air and serving as a paperweight.

"This one?" She crinkled her nose, raising a brow, feeling incredibly stupid.

No response.

Shrugging, she followed her instinct and as soon as her fingers grazed over the bronze wing of the cherub, there was a resounding click and the wooden slab countertop of the desk began to slide. She jumped backwards. The inkwell and quill pots rattled at the movement; the table itself vibrated as the surface slid off to reveal a hidden compartment.

Plumes of dust puffed into her face as though it hadn't been accessed in ages.

"What the Cauldron...?" she muttered, gaze flying to the door in a panic.

It was one thing going into her father's study, another thing entirely