Bound By Blood (27 page)

             
Silently,
but lacking the same excitement and enthusiasm,
s
he watched the warriors reach the edge of the balcony
, underneath from where
the
sisters
were spying from. They were at least ten stories
up,
but she swore she c
ould feel their presence rise the distance
and touch her. Her fists gripped the smaller pillars
while her face hid saf
e
ly behind them
,
peeking through
. Her frazzled
nerves
were
shredded
by her own
inquisitiveness.

             
She started to move away when their horses began to pass
under
the arch. That's when
Daŕ
ēus’s face
looked up to catch
a glimpse of
hers. Once
again,
it seemed like time froze as his eyes began to glow underneath the dark of his hood. A gentle breeze began to blow against her flushed cheeks
,
carrying with it a whisper.

             
“Beloved.
”

             
Her head snapped away from the pillar.

             
The horses and warriors passed.
Samanthŕa
jerked herself
away
and fell flat against the beige marble floor between the balcony and her chamber. Her limbs started to tremble. Her face looked as though
she’d
seen a ghost. Her mind spun. He
had
used her to free himself. She knew it! That name confirmed it. It was the name the voice used in the dreams.
But how? How did she undo something Dĩas supposedly did? How did she unravel his power?

             
She became
even
more edgy
,
wondering what in all of
Hadãe
she had unleashed this time. Her father was right. She was behind the storm and everything which had been triggered by it
!
She pulled herself up and began to curse just as
Chymeŕah
entered the room. Her sisters had been giggling at her
seeming
clumsiness
;
Chymeŕah
calmly raised a hand and dismissed them.

             
“Leave us
,
my little darlings of darkness.” She said
it
so smoothly
,
as if calling forth some
incantation
that
the
y
drift
ed
out of the room without protest. “
Hurry along. Go on
and greet our guests
,
will you?”

             
Samanthŕa's insides twisted with disgust at how they simply hurried away . . . that easily . . . to complete strangers.

             
Regardless of what they did and whether or not the Priestess approved, Chymeŕah
took
Samanthŕa’s
hand and led her back into the room
,
shut
ting
the balcony doors gently.

             
Silence befell but at least the calm of her mother's
realm
remained.

             
“My darkest darling of all,”
said
she
,
smil
ing
coyly at
Samanthŕa
,
“
w
hy ever would you spy when you are dwelling in your
true
home?
" Just then, the shapes and colors of the chamber changed to something more befitting of them both. The tones became golden and tranquil . . . as if something out of an ancient dessert temple.
Crimson sheers fluttered softly before the open balcony that opened to a rusty citrus sunset. Powerful glyphs burned across sandstone walls. The smell of
incense
. . . of
frankincense
and
myrrh
burst throughout the room.

             
"
Ah, that is better.
I am surprised you could stomach something so . . . so . . . whimsical and, well, fluffy for so long.
" Chymeŕah smiled. No one seemed more befitting of a Goddess's robes than her.

             
"My surroundings do not concern me as much as what makes my sisters happy. They were cursed to suc
h grim surroundings for so long.
" Sama
nthŕa reflected on some of the families they were forced to live with. How their dwellings began to reflect the slow demise of their families connection to the Many Lights. How Evil seemed to taint them, even if Samanthŕa could not seem to convince Dĩas or
the Elders of that. "If their dreams are filled with sparkling clouds
, mystical masquerades,
and
Fãe
ŕé
du
st, then so be it.
"

             
"Well, now they are more you and I." Chymeŕah snapped her fingers. A goblet of something more suiting of her appeared. She sipped
slowly, then whipped her thoughts back to what brewed within her mind.
"Back on point . . . no spying, daughter. Y
ou
, like your sisters,
have free
dom of the
domain here. No
Dĩas
or Elders to hide from. Simply do whatever it is you wish to do. I give you no rules to suffocate you.
No robes of so-
called reason tightening across your neck.
” She sat on the bed a
nd
her mind suggested to
Samanthŕa
that she
sit in front of her on the floor.
She didn’t hide
her
great glamour.
Her mother’s charms could work her and others so easily
,
as if they were nothing more than puppets.

             
Samanthŕa
sat
willingly
, and
Chymeŕah
began to comb out her long silky locks. Her hand
waved throwing open
a drawer in the vanity across the room. Jeweled clips and pieces spun
through the air
and into her palm. “
Though I am their source, i
t offends me when you bring your habits here. The things you must do, that I helped you learn to do, to survive your over protective and very dominant father.
You need to know when to lay such things down, tucking them away for another time.
”

             
“Old habits are hard to break
,
”
Samanthŕa
admitted while t
he name
Beloved
was still sending
signals of
wariness
down
her vertebrae
. Anger,
curiosity,
and weariness still soured in the pit of her stomach.

             
Her mother was a free spirit. She did what she wanted
,
when
she wanted
,
despite the consequences. She had a great
detachment
inside her that made her stronger than most women. She was able to sacrifice whatever she had to, despite her love or obsession for it, in order to achieve a greater outcome. She could not be controlled and her powers made her lethal. Her ability to shut down her emotions made her a dangerous warrior during battle.
             

             
When
Samanthŕa
was allowed to be with her
mother,
she had no restrictions,
rules,
or boundaries. Even as a child
,
Chymeŕah
praised and supported her no matter what she did or what mischief she caused. Once,
Chymeŕah
was teaching
Samanthŕa
how to conjure fire
in order to feed
.

             
“
Focus now on the candle daughter, focus
,
”
s
he remembered her mother saying
.
Samanthŕa
caught the entire stables aflame and nearly burned down the
realm
.
Chymeŕah
was able to undo it but even if she couldn’t
have,
she would have still praised
Samanthŕa
. No matter what curse, even the ones she brought home by mistake to
Chymeŕah
, or what trouble
Samanthŕa
caused, her mother
adored her, praised her and encouraged her to do more. It
made
Dĩas
absolutely demented
,
which was also a perk as far as
Chymeŕah
was concerned. She lived to get under one’s skin.

             
“I am assuming your sisters have told you everything
they
remember? After you passed out?”
Chymeŕah
smirked as she braided small strands of her daughter’s hair with golden
Sephŕel
twine.
They used this
a lot
in their clothes and hair because the Sephŕel,
those
tiny
golden
beings with wings, spun enchantments into their threads and garments. These enchantments
as well as other charms and spells
were forms of protection.

             
Samanthŕa
nodded. “I have been waiting to hear what
you
have to say concerning all of this.” She raised a brow
but did not move
. She knew her mother would have something to say, something that would be absolutely unacceptable if her father w
ere
here.
Obviously, since the very ones her father hated for whatever reason was somewhere ten stories below keeping company with her all too willing sisters. "So," she prepared herself, "If you would say it."

             
“I reserve my right to say anything.” She finished with her
daughter’s
hair and stood up
,
admiring her work. Of
course,
a little magic here and there helped perfect the finished style.

             
Samanthŕa
stood and looked into a large mahogany
framed
mirror. It had
mys
tic symbols burned into it to prevent one from using it as a doorway
or portal
to cause harm. Again, her mother planned for everything.

             
Chymeŕah had piled some of Samanthŕa's
hair on top of her head while its soft ends fell in lose curls down her back. Some pieces were braided or woven. They were very small
pieces, which
looked like a golden web because of the
Sephŕel
twine. It matched the white gown she wore
,
which was trimmed with
more of the golden twine and symbols.

             
"Obviously you want something or else I would not look like this." Samanthŕa smiled a little but not much.

             
“I simply wish you to savor this moment
, let your curiosity breath freely for once,
and go downstairs to meet our guests. You realize
that it’s not every night
someone gets to meet the Father of their Blood
.
If
Dĩas
and others, who shall remain nameless, had their way, you would have never met him.”
Chymeŕah
winked
.

             
“About that
--
”
Samanthŕa
turned to
confront
her. “Why is it that they hate him so, particularly
Dĩas
?”

             
“Why don’t you ask
Daŕ
ēus
yourself
,
my darkest darling?”
Chymeŕah
grinned
as she escorted her daughter downstairs.

             
“Then at least tell me
why
he has laid h
is claim over me.” Samanthŕa
blunt
ly stopped but her Mother urged her along lovingly. "I know you can tell me that."