“Stay. Still.”
“I’m not moving.” Was what Myrlieh wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut and let her mother rip the comb through her golden brown hair without complaint. It had never been useful to argue with her mother, and besides, having a smart mouth was Muirne’s job.
She glanced over at her sister straining her gold-speckled blue eyes to catch a glimpse of the older girl without turning her head. Sure enough, Muirne knew what she was thinking. Her smirk said everything. Myrlieh pursed her lips and focused her gaze back straight forward. She kept her eyes carefully open. If her mother caught her, she’d know for certain that Myr was communicating with her familiar.
The little cat threaded her lithe, black body between Muirne’s legs, her white paws flashing, as she glared up at the other girl. Muirne looked down with dark, raised eyebrows and lifted a foot, threatening to step on the small kitten without a single word. Muirne was smarter than their mother. They got that from their father. Thankfully, they got most things from their father.
Leave her alone, Dusk. Myrlieh commanded silently, as her mother began to arrange her hair into simple, pulled back braids, adorning them with real little black spiders, connected with thick strings of spider silk.
She’s making fun of you. The cat protested, opening her mouth in half a yawn that was really more a precursor to a hiss.
She always does. Was all the response Myr gave her protective kitten. It was true, but she’d always forgiven her sister. Her sister’s demons were her fault after all. Now, can you hurry up and go get it? She asked, changing the subject.
The cat stared at her with her glow-in-the-dark green eyes, then gave Muirne the smallest hiss and darted away to take care of the task Myrlieh had contacted her to do in the first place.
Her mother rolled the last bit of her hair up into a bun below the gathered braids and secured it in place with a large silver hairclip in the shape of a skull, sliding the metal pin into the holes on either side of the skull, right above where the ears would have been. On either end of the metal pin, she threaded thin silver chains, each with a spider at the end of it. She was really going all out, wasn’t she? Mother never brought out the traditional pins of the Carollomi coven unless she was really trying to impress. Comparatively, what she was actually wearing was simple, a gauzy black dress, cut low, with wide sleeves and no embroidery. She hated this dress. It was also… traditional. And it clashed horribly with her eyes and hair, her olive toned skin and soft round features. It would have been a pretty ensemble on their mother’s mother, but she had been a proper crone, with pale skin and a hooked nose, long and bony tapering fingers, perfect black eyes and perfect black hair with a widow’s peak.
Her mother stood back and surveyed her, so Myrlieh stood and turned towards the door, not looking at either her mother or her sister. “Stay right where you are.” Her mother demanded, surprising her. It wasn’t like there was much more to do. She was as dolled up as she could be. She turned her head sharply in time to see her mother grab a folded piece of cloth from a chair. She hadn’t noticed it before in the rush of the preparations, though she felt like she should have, since, as her mother unfurled it, she realized it was a shimmery gold pelt, fashioned into a cloak, with a thick, fluffy set of fur around the neck, the cloak held together by an ivory white chain.
Myrlieh frowned at it. “What’s this?” She asked quietly.
“It was sent by his Lord Leonaer.” Her mother said, impatiently turning her around and fastening it around her shoulders. “It is apparently traditional for non-alvitr brides to come the first time with a cloak like this. To help them blend in, his note said.” The turn of her mouth told Myrlieh that her mother disapproved. She wasn’t supposed to blend in. She was supposed to be very proper and witch-like. Myr was grateful, though. She grabbed the edges of the cloth, pulling them together protectively as her mother quickly escorted her through the corridors and out through the large, black iron front doors. Her sister followed her all the way to the black carriage, with no horses hitched to it.
Her mother began fussing about the front of the carriage, making sure that the enchantments were all properly set, and the portal was going to the right place.
Her sister stayed beside her, and when their mother was out of earshot, Muirne whispered scornfully in her ear. “Hah. It might be his great-uncle’s skin or something. Alvitrs.” Muirne scoffed. “Wearing a dead person’s skin.”
“You don’t know that it’s anyone’s skin.” Myrlieh protested, gripping the edges of the cloaks together even more tightly. “They say that the skins get buried with them when they die, because it’s supposed to be a part of them.”
Muirne rolled her eyes. “They also say that alvitr are born as animals, you know. And don’t remove their skin until they’re toddlers. Have fun giving birth to little lion cubs. Trying to raise little monsters.”
It was just the first meeting after the formal discussion between their parents. It wasn’t at all unusual for engagements to fall through at this stage if the two didn’t like each other, much too soon to talk about children for most. But Muirne knew and Myrlieh knew, that the coven’s little princess would never defy their mother and let a much needed and powerful alliance fall through. Their coven falling on bad times, the two most powerful witches to have been born in the past century meant their ticket back to better times. One to lead the family. One to marry well. Their mother was funny, though. Picking the weaker sister to lead the family simply because she was the eldest, or maybe she just thought Muirne was less likely to go along with being married off. That was true enough.
Myrlieh just shook her head at Muirne. “That really would just be carrying on the family tradition, wouldn’t it? Raising little monsters.” She looked up and met Muirne’s eyes straight in the eyes. “Just like you and me.” She turned her back on her sister, who was turning red with rage, and stepped into the carriage.
The minute the door closed, Myrlieh let out a big sigh of relief and slumped in her seat. Dusk crawled out from under the seats and jumped into her arms, carrying what she’d asked for in her mouth. Myr hugged her tight to her chest and took the white, tree-shaped brooch from the little black cat and fastened it to the waist of her dress, within a fold so that it was hidden. She patted it gently and kissed Dusk on the nose.
It’s not like you. The cat pressed her paws to her collarbone, looking up at her concerned. Taking things when you don’t know if you’re coming back.
Myr just snuggled her a little harder. “I was the only one who ever loved him, Dusk. I deserve to take a piece of dad with me.” She whispered into her fur. “He deserves it.”