The Family

Chapter 1-3

Rayburn’s gloves creak as she tightens and loosens her grip. “Ravens. The King’s found us… again. Took him longer than expected this time.” She rolls her eyes, running her tongue along her teeth.

Rayden puts a hand on his hip, pointing the other towards the window. “And you kill them?” He throws out both hands at her. “Rayburn, are you mad!?” He puts his fingers to his head, staring at her, and furrows his brow. “And you don’t even know if they had time to report anything yet. They just landed there seconds ago. It watched them.” Rolling his eyes, he points finger at the arrows lying on the sill.

Sarah and Peter glance at the sill.

Where’d they go?

Rayburn picks at her glove, playing with the thickest of her ringlets. “He won’t miss them.” She shrugs. “I mean, it’s not as if he can’t make more.” She grins up at him and continues to play with her caramel lock.

Rayden sighs, wiping his mouth. “Rayburn, that’s not the point. We have enough things to deal with.” He points at Peter and Sarah. “We don’t need the King up our arses too.” Sighing, he studies the floor. “Maybe you’re right, though.” He huffs. “Let’s hope all they had time to report was a mountain in the middle of nowhere.” He purses his lips. “I’ll have to give us more cover. Later.” He sits down, taking another long inhale, and closes his eyes.

Rayburn sniggers, holding the tips of her hair to her eyes, and smirks.

Snubbing the end of his roll on the edge of the table, Rayden flicks the rest across the room and out the window behind Sarah.

Sarah watches it bounce and roll off the porch into the grass. How crude.

Rayburn focuses on the tips of her ringlet and shrugs. “Sorry.” Her attention falls to the floor as she continues to pick at her hair.

Sarah glances from Peter to Rayden and squints. “So, the King of N'Atirb who resides in the capital, Prora, knows about your kind and is one of you?” She sets her elbow on the table, putting her chin in her palm.

Rayburn jerks her head to Sarah, snarling. “No, daft homini. The King of the Elephimas. A descendant of Carlos. A Groundling of immense power.” She sniggers. “Compared to him, your king is nothing more than a fragile mess of water sacs and bone.” She spits her words out as she pulls the wrists of her gloves, grabbing the grip of her bow.

Sarah leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, and raises her eyebrows. “I asked a simple question. So why don’t you stand up and pull your bow from between your a*s cheeks.” She crosses her legs and smirks.

Rayden sniggers.

Sarah cuts her eyes at Peter.

Peter’s fists tremble in his lap. He flexes his fingers, grinding his teeth. The grating causes Sarah’s teeth to hurt.

Rayburn stands, snarling at Sarah.

Peter eyes Rayburn, pushing his chair back, and readies himself to move.

Eyes darting from Sarah to Peter, Rayburn sits back down.

Grinning, Rayden taps his knuckles on the table and sighs, glowering at Rayburn as he bounces his foot, and makes the table shake. “Why don’t you take a walk, hhmmm?” He lifts an eyebrow and laces his fingers in his lap.

Rayburn rolls her eyes, huffing, and grabs her bow. “Gladly.” She walks out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

Rayden sighs again, eyeing the floor. “I’m truly sorry about her, but she has her reasons.” He leans back his chair and yells towards the front door. “However old and grudging they may be!” He shrugs, setting his chair back on the floor, and adjusts himself in it. “Now, back to you, Peter, I’m sure you have a question or two.” He laces his fingers in his lap, relaxing in his seat again.

Peter eyes Rayden.

Those unwavering white eyes chilling.

Peter clears his throat and looks at the floor. “Yea, how did I get my powers? My mother was a namuh.” He cut his eyes up at Rayden. “She was my real mother, wasn’t she?” He raises his eyebrows.

Rayden chuckles. “Yes, of course she was.” He rests his elbow on the edge of the table, letting his hand hang off. “And, well, that’s just it. You have your powers because your mother was homini.” He looks between Peter to Sarah. “My deepest sympathies to you both, by the way. No one should have to bury their parents after going through what you did.” He wipes his mouth, letting his hand flop back over the edge of the table.

Peter nods at Rayden and looks back at the floor. “Yea, thanks, but Luke and Gloria were Sarah’s parents.” He cuts his eyes over his shoulder at her.

Sarah stares at the table.

Peter takes her hand, squeezing it, and lets go.

Sarah doesn’t move.

Peter turns back to Rayden. “Mine died when I was seven. Sarah’s father saved me and took me in.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees.

Rayden slides his fingers through the top of his hair. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” He clears his throat. “Again, my deepest sympathies to you as well, Sarah. I thought you were his homini sister.” He offers a quick smile.

Sarah flits a weak smile in return but won’t meet those eerie eyes.

Rayden wipes his hands on his pants, returning his elbow to the table. “Back to your question, though.” He locks eyes with Peter. “If an Elephima… interacts… with another Elephima, they have an homini baby.” He looks back and forth between the two of them and laces his fingers on the table.

Peter nods, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, um, makes sense. I suppose.” He looks at Sarah.

Sarah continues to pick at the table. She’s barely heard a word Rayden has said since the mentioning of her parents. Her mind races with the fresh memories of their purple and green bodies. Red and yellow glazed eyes. And the putrid stench of their rotting flesh. The picture forever burned to the back of her eyelids. The loud thud of Rayburn’s boots on the hardwood floor brings her back to the room.

Rayburn sets a folded slip of paper in front of Rayden. “Falcon just delivered it.” She walks behind him.

Peter chuckles. “You have birds deliver your letters?” He tosses a finger at the envelope.

Rayburn grins. “No, our letter carrier, Falcon, delivers them. Even though we’re,” Her words get louder and more exaggerated. “Supposed to be secluded and hidden here. Tell me again how it is that he and the King keep finding us? I thought your enchatos were powerful enough.” She puts both hands on her hips, glaring at the back of Rayden’s head.

Peter raises his eyebrows and knocks the table. “Ah.” He leans back in his chair, putting his fingers to his lips.

Ignoring her latest harry, Rayden passes a finger under the blot of brown mossy wax keeping the envelope closed, breaking the royal seal, and opens it. A poof of dirt falls to the floor. Fireflies flutter through the room, disappearing in all directions.

They all watch them flit and flutter before exploding into glittering yellow masses that fall to the floor.

Rayden grins. “It’s the invitation to Princess Leilani’s birthday ball.” He glances at Rayburn over his shoulder, chuckling, and turns back to Peter and Sarah.

Sarah’s ears perk, and she sits straight. “Ball?” She looks at Peter. “Did you hear that, Peter? We’re invited to a ball!” She puts a hand on his knee.

Peter’s heart leaps. His eyes jerk down to her small hand on the edge of his knee. Watching her fingers slide off and move the table, he continues to stare, longing for them to return.

Rayburn glares down at Sarah. “No, you twit. Rayden, Peter, and I are invited to the ball.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot as she stands behind Rayden’s chair. “The only hominis allowed cater to the needs of their betters. Invisible and silent.” She snarls, turning her nose up.

Rayden looks up and over at her, still holding the invitation. “Do you need to leave again?” He smirks, winking at Sarah.

Rayburn snarls down at him. “No.” She sits in the same chair as before, crossing her arms and legs, eyes out the window behind her.

Rayden studies the invitation a little longer and hits it with the tips of his fingers, smiling. “Here we are! It still says we may bring a plus one each. Since Peter is your plus one, Sarah can come too, as my companion.” He looks at Sarah, a small grin spreading across his face until he glances at Peter sitting tall and clenching his jaw. “That is, if it’s okay with you, Peter.” He puts out a hand towards Peter, swallowing.

Sarah looks between the two of them. Why is Rayden so quick to ask permission? Not only that, but why did Rayburn sit so quickly when Peter was aggravated at her earlier? Shaking her head to herself, she bites her lips, staying quiet, and pushes the thoughts away.

Peter puts up his hands, shaking his head, and crosses his arms. “Oh, no, that’s fine.” He rolls his eyes, smirking.

Rayden looks down at the invitation again, but cuts his eyes one more time at Peter before feigning interest in the information.

A heavy silence fills the room. The birds and crickets call out from the purpling light outside. Frogs bark from the woods. The sun sinks farther and farther. The fastness of the shadows falling across the floor measures the length of darkness creeping inside. The first hour of nightfall has started with the last ray of sun disappearing.

Rayburn snaps her fingers, and the room’s candles ignite.

Sarah sits up. Forearms resting on the table, she laces her fingers. Thoughts of the types of dresses, decorations, and people that might be at the castle move their way through her mind. Will the ball even be at a castle? With these people, it could be anywhere. Violet. Yes. Violet is her best color, but if it’s elegant enough, she should wear her mother’s dress. That shade of blue was rather fetching on her. She stares off into the void between her and the opposite wall, sinking into the possibility of something normal. At least, normal compared to what they’ve been through the past weeks.

Rayden slaps the table with his fingers, making Peter and Sarah jump, and he chuckles at their stares. “Well, I’m sure you two are exhausted. There is a room upstairs the two of you can use. The second door on your right. I’m sorry, it’s just the one full-sized bed in there. I hope that’s not a problem.” He arches an eyebrow at both of them.

Peter shakes his head, wasting no time in answering. “No, it’s fine.” He looks at Rayden, smirking, and then turns to Sarah.

Sarah glares at him.

Peter’s smirk falls. He clears his throat and turns to Rayden watching the both of them with raised eyebrows.

They both stand, grabbing their bags, and head up the wooden stairs.

Sarah opens the door into their room, taking it in.

The bed is on the left wall. Cream-colored candles sit in the middle of each night table. White cotton sheets cover the mattress under a beautiful white, blue, and purple floral quilt. A lacey ruffle along the bottom of the bed shifts in the light breeze from opening the door. The edges brush the wooden floor. A tall, simple, wooden wardrobe stands on the right wall between two doors.

Peter walks inside, dropping his bags to the floor. They let out a loud thud and shuffle.

Sarah walks up to the door to the right of the wardrobe. Opening it, the scent of cedar greets her. Hanging pegs line the walls above shoe shelves. Closing that door, she moves to the door on the left. A washing dish and pitcher sit on a small table beneath a small mirror centered on the wall. An unlit candle sits next to the washing dish. The empty chamber pot sits in the corner. The room smells of a light dingy cedar mixed with the chamber pot’s previous contents. Her nose scrunches, lips curling. Turning around, she makes sure the door is closed and latched before letting it go.

Peter sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his boots, and sets them in the corner between the nightstand and wall. Standing, he faces the window on his side, looking out upon the front yard. Untucking his tunic, he stretches and grunts. Exhaling, he scratches his stomach under the loosened fabric.

Sarah sits on her side the bed, taking off her boots as well. She glances over her shoulder out the window. The moon sits high. The blue-black sky, clear of clouds, stretches out forever. Turning back around, she stands and pulls at the edge of her tunic.

Peter peeks over his shoulder at her. The edge of the corset she received from Meloni plays a game of hide-and-peek as she moves about. He strains his neck to get a good look at her.

Sarah raises her arms, pulling her hair into a ponytail. Not having a readied tie, she lets it fall about her shoulders again. She repeats this, stroking her fingers through the thick tendrils.

Peter stares at the sliver of deeply tanned skin showing at the top of her pants. His heart races. He licks his lips, turning toward her more.

Sarah turns around.

Peter jerks around, eying the baseboards, and continues to get ready for bed. He pulls off his shirt, having forgotten about the trinket on the chain still around his neck, and it hits his chest, swinging a bit. He hasn’t taken it off since the night they left the farm so many days ago. Cutting his eyes over his shoulder, he watches her as he takes the chain from his neck, putting it in his pants pocket. She doesn’t notice. Doesn’t even look his way. Good. Now’s not the right time to explain what it is.

Sarah remains facing the room’s door. She unties her pants, holding the strings, and turns around to his bare back. She watches the toned muscles ripple and dance about as he moves.

Tunic off and belt out of the loops, Peter turns around to the bed. “You ready for bed?” He pulls back the covers.

Looking out the window behind him, Peter studies the stars dotting and twinkling against the deep blue sky and gets under the quilt. Without thinking, he pulls off his pants as if he’s at home, tossing them to the floor near his boots. Glancing at himself, he freezes. She may not be so receptive to him being n***d this time, but with no night pants on hand, what is he to do? His day pants are too uncomfortable, and he’s been sleeping in them for far too long. He shrugs, laying the covers over himself. Maybe she won’t notice.

Sarah jumps at his voice, nodding, and sighs as she turns to the bed. “Almost.” She pulls back the covers on her side, still clinging to her pant ties. “I’m just going to change behind the screen first.” She grabs her nightgown from her bag.

Going behind the white cloth screen, she stands between the windows beside the bed and takes off her clothes. Not having an undrh'suet has been less trouble the past several days, but it will soon have to be replaced. At least for a week.

Peter watches her silhouette move behind the screen. He watches the curves of her body as she turns and bends. Putting his hands in his lap, he bites his lower lip. He sits in bed, resting his head against the wooden headboard, and doesn’t take his eyes off the curtain.

Minutes later, Sarah emerges from behind the curtain in her nightgown. She crosses her arms over her loosened breasts and carries her corset. Setting it on a bag, she makes her way to the bed, pulling back the covers, and slips under. She bounces and flops until she’s turned away from him and comfortable.

Peter grins. Oblivious as usual. Good.

Sarah faces the door. “Good night, Peter. Sweet dreams.” Her heart races.

One would think that after all this time sleeping in the same room, sometimes the same bed, she wouldn’t be so shy, but no matter how many times she walks past him in nothing but her nightgown, she still gets a fluttery stomach.

Peter looks beneath his hands, swallowing hard, and rolls onto his side facing the window. It won’t matter how many times he watches her behind a curtain, he will always find it as desirable as the first time it happened.

Sarah holds the covers to her chin, turning towards him, and attempts to see him over her shoulder.

Realizing she’s waiting for an answer, Peter tries to speak, words almost squeaking out on the third try. “Good night, Sarah.” He clears his throat. “Sweet dreams. I lo—” He stops as the words almost fly from his mouth.

Sarah rolls halfway over to him. “You what?” Her heart stops at what she thinks he was about to say.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lips. “I, um, I’m really looking forward to some real sleep this time.” His heart races.

Daft, daft, daft. What is wrong with him?

Sarah rolls back over, putting a hand under her pillow, and looks at the wall. Did he almost say I love you? No, it couldn’t be. She shakes it off, closing her eyes, and lets the breath she was holding out slow and silent.

Opening her eyes, Sarah looks at the wall. “Yea, me too.” She snuggles into her pillow, letting silence consume them until she falls asleep.