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Chapter 56: The Dream
Lola EversonMy updates will be a little spotty. Happy 4th of July to those who celebrate!
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A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 57: A Meeting
I walk along the old familiar trail to my garden carefully observing the figure in front of me. The red robe swallows her petite figure. She seems to float across the landscape, gracefully moving, her walk like a choreographed dance. As we approach my garden gate she slows her pace and turns to face me. “My child, how you have grown these years.” I hear the voice but the woman’s mouth does not move. She sweetly smiles as she projects her voice into my thoughts. Her face is similar to my mother. Her eyes are a deep cerulean blue, two endless pools I find myself getting lost in. Her smile seems sweet but makes me uneasy in its portrayal of innocence. She calls me a child and yet she looks barely old than me. Her skin glows against the deep red of the robe. A wisp of golden curls peak out of the darkness created by the robe’s hood. “I have waited so long to speak to you. Your ascension finally opened the portal so that we can communicate.” “Portal?” I wonder aloud. “You mustn’t spea
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 58: Artemis
“Witch.” Theia growls. I am silent. The accusation is true I suppose, though I know nothing of what it means to be true. It isn’t the whole truth. “Am I not also wolf?” I question. “Does being one erase the other?” Theia growls in response. “Well if you hadn’t so rudely interrupted, perhaps we could’ve figured out how the connection across our plane in the spiritual plane works.” I grumble as I cross my arms across my chest. “Tell me what you know of witches.” “Where would I begin?” Theia muses. “At the beginning?” I offer. Theia scoffs. “We don’t have endless amounts of time.” She reasons. “No, I suppose we do not. I’m tired of being left in the dark.” I say. “When you don’t know, how do you know what you need to know?” Theia exhales deeply. The air from her lungs makes a snorting sound as it passes through her snout. “In ancient times, the three faced goddess represented Selene, Hecate, and Artemis. Artemis the maiden, Selene the mother, and Hecate the crone. All th
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 59: The Market
The market is a strange mixture of smells. Everything about it, in conflict with one another. I diligently follow my mother through the market towards the center, in order to obtain her new kitchen servant. It feels like a death march towards to the center, a place where other wolves are bought and sold. The entire idea of a wolf selling another wolf like property is disgusting. A shameful act to be carried on in view of the royal family. The proximity of such privilege with such poverty and despair is disgraceful. It is upon the backs of those sold that the royal family is able to maintain their positions. They profit off of their own people’s bodies. Having to take any part of this process is horrifying. Poor Maristela, a young child, sold like a horse in an open market to anyone who was willing to pay the most for her. Stalls line the thoroughfare selling a variety of items. We weave through the crowd and I take in the sights and scents. The smell of sweet fried doughs in hone
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 60: Ice Cream
“I will never be like you.” I whisper, more as a promise to myself than a declaration. “Time is the greatest truth teller.” She murmurs. We stand in silence as body after body is bought and sold. Field hands, butlers, maids, cooks, child brides, stable boys— every person it takes to run the household is sold like saddles and mops. I see the faces of my friends who work the Alpha’s estate in each one of these people, each drop of the sales gavel shatters another part of my heart. The pain is a consequence of my observation of this ongoing tragedy without having the courage to intervene. Intervention meant death though. Maybe even a fate worse than that. I feel a tingling on my skin almost like I am being touched by a spirit. Their fingers ghosting along my arms and shoulders to get my attention. A young woman is being led to the platform. Her eyes snap to mine as the feeling intensifies. She looks plain. The type of woman you must have seen a million times before. Nothing notabl
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 61: The Tribe
His eyes linger on me. His gaze lights my skin ablaze, I feel flushed from his attention on me. My mind thinking of other things my hot mouth could wrap around. His gaze fixed on me as I perform. “Enjoying the cone?” He asks shamelessly. “Immensely.” I say much more breathy than intended. “You would be surprised how many delicious things there are to sample here in the Kingdom of the Moon.” He says with an edge of flirtation. I should be disgusted by his advances. He represents everything that is wrong. His flirtation with the help so openly in the market is scandalous, even if I am of noble birth. I should be offended as a proper lady that he would even feel so emboldened. “Any good meat dishes you would recommend, your highness?” I say coquettishly, the look of innocence on my face hiding my double meaning. My tongue tracing the peak of my ice cream before retreating to my mouth. A soft growl rumbles in his chest. It might be my undoing. I would let him take me right here
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 62: The Doe
“With whom? Yourself?” I ask with an edge of sarcasm. “You think so poorly of me?” She asks like a wounded child. The question hangs between us. The truth is, I have no idea what she is capable of. “I was born two hundred years ago. Malakai was a story for the history books for wolves by then, but for witches, it was like it was yesterday. For the Tribe of Circe, the need for retribution was palpable and ubiquitous. It was centered in everything. Being the first daughter in a long line of first daughters from first daughters, I was groomed to take the throne. Once my powers were bestowed upon me after my ascension, I was positioned to be the hope of the coven.” She begins to explain after a period of silence. “What is the price of remaining youthful?” I ask, thinking back to all the stories of my youth of wicked witches and their depravity. “At two hundred I have barely left my adolescence. I am still very young.” She says, a look of disappointment in my provincial views. W
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 63: Tea for Three
The clock strikes four and the slave my mother purchased still has not returned from market. It’s tea time and I know she is itching to leave the capital before the sun sets. “Captain, when will your man return with my servant? I’m beginning to grow concerned that my merchandise is being damaged.” My mother snapped as we made our way to tea. “I’m certain that is not the case, your grace. I will go myself, to hurry the process along.” He grabs his coat and begins to charge towards the front door when a knock booms from the door. The butler opens the door and immediately bows deeply. “Your highness! P-Please do come in!” The butler stumbles over his words in nervous energy. My mother and I abruptly stop at the last landing of the stairwell in front of the grand entry way the Prince is standing in. We both curtsy in unison, by muscle memory. “Your Highness, to what do we owe such an honor? I was not expecting that you would join us for tea.” My mother says graciously. “I meant
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 64: Carriage Ride
There are three of us jammed into the carriage. I share my seat with the new servant, the Luna across from us with the largest seat to herself. A book balanced in her hand she casually reads slowly turning the pages. Her focus is entirely on the book, her intense staring only randomly interrupted by a small giggle or gasp. From time to time she shifts in her seat as she reads. The book some tawdry romance passed between housewives, discussed in whispers and giggles at tea. The new servant and I sit awkwardly, straining our abdominal muscles to maintain a small space between us. This space is guarded fiercely as the carriage tumbles down the road. We find our synchronization as we lean and shift with the carriage careful to maintain our space. A dance of quiet movements in unison. Neither of us dare to speak, to do so would be against protocol. The new servant is unsure of the order of things in our house, so erroring on the side of caution is always the wise pathway. Silence is alwa
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