“Let us begin our walk to the carriage. Your father will follow behindus.”
Of course hewould.
I climbed up the steps into the carriage that would take me to a night of boringness. However, I hoped my parents would permit me the opportunity to stretch my legs a little bit after dinner. I just might be about to creep to the edge of the forest and at least watch some of the depraved acts that would take place outthere.
As my mother sat down beside me, I watched Klyn walk down the stone steps from the castle. I wondered if he was telling my father how he found me on the balcony earlier. No, Father was laughing. He certainly would not laugh if he found out I pleasured myself; let alone, all the ways that I doit.
They stopped on the steps about midway down and looked out to the left. My father pointed out something in the distance, and then waved his hand around as he spoke to Klyn. I could not hear what they had been saying, so I leaned out of my window to try to see what they had been looking at. I was not able to figure what they were gazing at. All I could see was the town below with its lightsglowing.
“Why does Klyn never ride with us to these events?” I asked my parents once my father had taken his seat in the carriage opposite us. They take the same carriage when my father goes out for business, but whenever it is events, he rides in a differentcarriage.
“The people like to see the family together as they arrive,” my father stated and then turned his head to look out thewindow.
Suddenly, he looked very bothered and looked out the carriage window in the direction of the town. I knew that my mother noticed ittoo.
“Quintas, what is it?” my mother asked when our carriage began tomove.
“A storm is brewing,” hereplied.
I stuck my hand out of the carriage window to see if I felt any raindrops, but all I felt was the humid, dampair.
“Octavia!” my father bellowed, “Get your arm inside this carriage atonce!”
“Quintas!” my mother hissed as I quickly pulled my arm inside. “Quintas, what is thematter?”
My father looked distracted and stared at my mother. It was as though they were having a silent conversation. Something felt wrong, and I do not know if it was the way they looked at one another, or my father’s outburst that made me feel that way. But something for sure was wrong. I looked down at my father’s hands as he rubbed his finger over the familyring.
“I am concerned about the pending storm,” headmitted.
I relaxed when I heard that he was just worried about the storm. Really? Yes, we get rain often, but I did not think a storm was anything for him to get bent out of shapeover.
“It is just a storm, darling,” my mother paused to look out the window. “I hope the townspeople travel to the event with caution,” she said with asmile.
“A little rain never killed anyone, Father,” I added. I hoped he picked up on my hint that I was annoyed that he yelled at me for having my arm out of the carriagewindow.
“It is the clouds and fog that I am curious about. There are no reflections from the lights on the low fog,” Fatherexplained.
I frowned when I looked out and realized that he had been right. That was kind of strange. Many nights we get fog, but you can always see the soft glow of the lights from the lanterns reflecting upwards on the fog. Except fortonight.
A small stretch of forest separated our castle and the town on the left side. As we made our way to town, I sat on the edge of my seat and concentrated on the left side of the forest. Sometimes when you passed by this section at night, you could see the faint glimmer of light coming from a witch or warlock’s camp in the distance. My eyes darted all over to see if I could spotone.
My great, great, great grandfather had set a truce with the witches and warlocks that if they stayed out of the town of Drishane, they were permitted to live in the forest of our kingdom. My father upheld that pact, and maintained the peace with them. Since I had been a small child, my father allowed the witches and warlocks to come into town on one designated day of the week to obtain food and supplies. While he respected their lifestyle, he did not want me to venture out into the woods. Rumors were all over the town about the potions and medicines one could get out there, not to mention the “objects ofsin.”
“Look!” I excitedly whispered as I pointed in the distance. A bright green glow illuminated a smallarea.
My mother smiled as my father looked on with an interesting expression on his face. I frowned at him and then looked back out at the greenillumination.
“What is it, dear?” my mother askedhim.
“The fog. The light from their fire is reflected in the mist,” hemused.
I thought about what he had said and why he was confused by this. The cloud and fog that had settled over the town, showed no light from Drishane. Yet, the light from the camp in the woods cast a green haze against the fog. It was odd andeerie.
“Father,” I turned to look at him, “Father, why is the fog not capturing the glow of the light in town, but it is getting the light from the witch’s camp?” Iinquired.
For the first time in my life, my father looked unsure and did not have theanswer.
“Very good question, Octavia. A question that I do not have the answer to,” hereplied.
