Cuckoo

He mounted the steps resolutely. The corridor stretched out before him, cool and dark. Dust motes swam lazily in the morning sun, streaming through a window embrasure at the corridor's far end. He sighed. It was too bright a day to be imprisoned indoors, and to face what he knew he would face. His boot scuffed along the floor reluctantly, but he stopped obediently in front of the appointed door. He squared his shoulders and took a last steadying breath. He stretched his hand out to the door handle. The latch turned, and the heavy oaken door swung open. A smell of books and ink permeated the room, and a feel of cool, quiet solitude. The room was dominated at one end by a wide wooden table and plain high-backed chair. Bunches of freshly gathered greenery and blooms covered one end of the desk. Great, he thought glumly; today appeared to be the day for botany lessons. He trailed his fingers absent-mindedly over the pile of greenery, until his gaze was snared by a single flower amongst the foliage. A long elegant stem, sparsely thorned, topped by a single perfect ivory gold bloom. He picked it up carefully, spun it slowly in slender fingers. He inhaled its delicate honey-musk perfume, and found his worries and fears dissolving into peaceful calm.
"Beautiful, isn't it ?" Startled out of quiet reverie, he spun to face the voice, the bloom falling unheeded to the floor. He stared at the girl who had appeared as if from nowhere, and now approached him. She bent gracefully to retrieve the flower, and replaced it with gentle reverence on the desk. Her hand caressed it once, before she looked up at him. Dark hair framed a pale elfin face and serious wide eyes that mirrored sorrow. As his initial surprise faded he could see that she was somewhat younger than he had thought, a mere child. "It's called Choisya duchantrei, or Queen's Beauty," she continued. "It was brought to Amber from Shadow; it flourished here and became most popular - it is not only beautiful and sweetly perfumed, but has been found to have restorative properties. It is still a favourite of the common folk and castle dwellers .... though of late it's popularity has been observed to wane in certain circles, in favour of more ... exotic ... blooms." He murmured a neutral response with careful courtesy, but he had the distinct impression that there was more to her words than mere commentary on plant species - something directed at a much more personal level. Politics had never been of importance to him, nor needed to be. What had he entered into here ?

***

I hadn't meant to startle him, of course - nor for my first words to be such a barbed challenge. The words had slipped out seemingly of their own accord, in response to the sudden appearance of him, the bastard child of my mother's rival. I felt a brief remorse that I may have hurt his feelings, but as swiftly shrugged such feelings aside. He was the intruder here, no less so than his mother; what else would he expect ? And anyway, he would surely be used to such social manoeuvrings; and if not, then he would have to learn fast, especially here. Especially with my brothers, I thought with grim pragmatism. We'd been told he would be coming, of course, though we had not realised it would be so soon. At first glance, he didn't seem to be the demon-spawn Abel and Armand had been muttering about with such vicious glee. So - what was he like ? Know thy enemy was the earliest of lessons a child of Amber learned, and learned earliest of all in the royal nursery. I centred myself and studied him more carefully, examining and weighing minutiae as I had been taught. He looked to be a couple of years older than I, well featured, though the softness of his mouth spoke of years of indulgent adults and an unchallenged favoured position. His eyes showed a surface of calm confidence, but not far below swam uncertainty and ... fear ? I let my senses slide deeper into his psyche. Yes, his mind mirrored what his eyes betrayed. Interesting. So he was not blind to the implications of his station here after all. From fear and uncertainty would spring bravado and belligerence; it was the way of boys - and men. I wondered how he would choose to deal with my brothers - and me - and how they would react in their turn. It would make for most interesting study. The classroom could be home to more than formal lessons and book-lore.

I chose to smile. "You must be Eric. I am Moira, First Daughter of Oberon. Welcome to our class. Our tutor, Ser Bosch, will give you formal welcome when he arrives. He will be here soon." I let my eyes close briefly, " ... yes, even now he enters the tower and climbs the stairs." I saw the boy's eyes widen slightly at my statement, and I smiled inside; I knew as well as he that there was no way I could know this by ordinary means. "But before that ...." I paused, turning to the doorway as the sound of running feet approached, and Armand and Abel burst into the room. They slid to a ragged halt as they took in the sight of Eric standing there. Both sides eyed each other warily.
" ... Before that, you should meet my brothers - Abel, and Armand. Brothers - this is Eric, the son of Faiella." I moved to stand closer to my brothers; Armand threw a possessive arm about my shoulders, and Abel shifted to stand slightly in front, a protective stance. Challenge hung thick in the air.

"We should take our seats, I believe," I remarked neutrally. "Ser Bosch will arrive in a moment, and you know how he thrives on punctuality and good manners."
I let the last hang in the air a moment. The boys still stood facing off at each other, like dogs circling disputed territory, hackles raised. Through the school-room door, the sound of measured footsteps could be heard approaching. Suddenly, Abel forced a smile and clapped Eric solidly on the back. "Come on then. I guess you can sit there for now." He gestured to a spare desk. "And then we shall see what we shall see."
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