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Summoned

last update Last Updated: 2024-12-22 02:11:39

*Bexley*

The idea that something is important flutters behind my closed eyelids as I lie in my bed, trying to pull my entire brain out of sleep. It’s a losing battle. All I want to do is roll over and fall back into a peaceful slumber.

But that nagging feeling that I have something I need to do won’t allow me to, and a few seconds later, I sit up in bed and push my blankets down to my waist.

It’s my birthday.

Not only that, but it’s my twenty-first birthday.

It’s my twenty-first birthday, and I now live in some crazy kingdom where the king sometimes sends out letters to girls on their twenty-first birthday summoning them to the castle so he can… well, no one knows exactly what he does with them, but none of the villagers approve of it or thinks it’s proper.

I take a deep breath and swing my feet out of bed. The wooden floor is a bit chilly, but I don’t pause to put on my slippers. Instead, I shuffle into the bathroom, do my business, and throw on a clean dress. I run a brush over my teeth and another through my hair before poking my feet into my boats and heading downstairs.

Mother is up already. That’s not too much of a surprise since she often gets up to prepare breakfast for Harvey, but the sun has barely met the top of the tree line, which means it’s not even 6:00 in the morning. She stands near the front window wringing her hands, not in the kitchen where one would need to be in order to cook.

Her eyes are glued to the mailbox.

“How long have you been standing here?”

The sound of my voice startles her. She clutches her heart and turns toward me. “Oh, Bexley. You’re awake. How did you sleep, dear?” As I approach, she reaches up to straighten my hair and pat my cheek. 

“Fine.” It’s not a lie. While it did take me a while to fall asleep, once I did, I slept like a baby. 

“Good, good. I’ve just been standing here for a few moments… looking at the sky. Do you think it will rain today?”

I look at the sky in question and see a hazy gray color that tells me it’s a possibility, but then, the sun’s not all the way up. No bright patches of pink and orange light the horizon today. Whether it rains or not, it’s bound to be gloomy. Happy birthday to me.

“I don’t know,” I admit, going along with her story. I don’t think there’s any chance she’s actually looking at the sky and not the mailbox. “You didn’t see anyone deliver anything?”

She shakes her head. “No, but the post doesn’t usually come until later in the day,” she reminds me.

“True, but Fiona said that this letter, if it’s coming, should be here first thing in the morning, and no one ever sees who delivers it.” I shrug. Saying that story out loud seems so silly to me. It’s not as if I believe it could be true. Just because some older people still believe in magic, that doesn’t mean that I should.

Mother inhales deeply, her bottom lip shaking slightly. “Perhaps we should check then. Honestly, Bexley, I’ve been standing here for a while. I couldn’t sleep.”

My mouth turns down in a frown as I consider what she’s saying. “Oh, Mother.” I place my hand gently on her shoulder. She’s always been such a good parent to me. She loves me so much, and I absolutely don’t know what I’d do without her. We’ve been close my entire life, but losing my father to an accident when I was so young made us grow even closer. For so many years, we only had one another.

Now, she has Harvey, and while I am jealous at times and often think he doesn’t deserve her, I am glad she has someone else. While I highly doubt I’m about to be carted off to a castle on top of the mountain, I do hope one day to start a family of my own or at least a career. I’d love to work on a nature preserve or even a zoo, so it’s important for Mother to put some space between us.

She wraps her arms around me. “I love you so much, Bexley. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I kiss her cheek. “You’ll always have me,’ I promise her. “We might not always live under the same roof, but I’m not going anywhere, Mother. I’ll always be in your heart, and you’ll be in mine.”

When she looks at me again, she has tears in her eyes. She nods. “I know, baby. I know. Now, why don’t you go see if there’s anything in that mailbox?”

“Sure.” I shrug, pretending like it’s not a big deal. Taking my cloak from the hook by the door, I slip it into place and clasp it, taking my time. My hands shake slightly as I reach for the doorknob and step outside.

The scent of woodsmoke fills my lungs. I pause for a moment on the front porch, letting the sharp sting of the wind ground me. I’m here—at my house—my mother is inside watching. I’m fine. Everything is fine. There’s no letter looming in the mailbox. No carriage will show up with some hooligan inside to snatch me up and carry me off to the castle, never to be seen or heard from again.

The autumn breeze stirs the leaves, lifting the few remaining red and orange ones off the ground and sending them twirling as I cross the front yard to the road where the mailbox stands sentinel. Why am I so frightened of a tiny black box I’ve seen the postal carrier fill hundreds of times? I have no idea. It is silly, really.

When I get to the mailbox, I position myself in front of it so that I can see the house in the distance. Mother lifts a hand to wave at me reassuringly as she looks through the front window. I wave back, but I don’t feel the reassurance she is hoping to pass on to me.

I‘m honestly downright terrified.

“It’s empty,” I whisper as I grab the door lever and pull it down hard.

Only… it’s not empty.

My mouth drops open in a silent gasp as I stare at the red envelope tucked inside of the mailbox. It’s large, weighty. Imposing. I can tell that before I even touch it.

I’m afraid to touch it.

In gold ink, my name is written, the script is fancy, with lots of curls, such that I can barely read it at an angle. With a heavy sigh, I reach in and slide it out.

“Bexley Kessler” it reads.

“Well, at least the king knows that Harvey isn’t my father.”

The door to the house flies open, and Mother comes running out onto the porch, nearly tripping. “Is it—”

“I believe so.” My voice sounds so calm, I hardly recognize it. With the letter in my hand, I begin to walk toward her, thinking we can open it together. Each step feels like I’m walking through thick quicksand that threatens to suck me down into the center of the earth.

I’m not sure it would be a worse option.

A thousand thoughts of what may happen to me fill my mind. I’ve never even kissed a man before. What if the tales about those other women aren’t true, and the king really does take his turn with the girls who have just stepped freshly into adulthood?

Eventually, I manage to make it to the porch. Mother takes the letter from my hand and carries it inside. Mrs. Jones is awake now. She’s wearing a thick blue robe over her nightgown as she stands near the fireplace with her hands clasped.

I note that Harvey hasn’t bothered to wake up early on my account.

Mother sinks down on the sofa but offers me the letter. “You should do it.”

I want to joke that maybe if she opens it, she’ll be the one that has to go, but no one would think that funny at the moment. I sit on the edge of the cushion next to her and slide my finger under the cell. The letter is beautiful, and it seems a shame to tear it up. The flap gives, revealing a sheet of thick white paper with embossed print.

I think it’s probably a form letter all the girls get until I see that it’s actually handwritten and contains my name. 

“Miss Bexley Kessler, you are hereby summoned to meet with your king, His Royal Highness Canaan Zephyr, this evening at seven o’clock. A carriage shall arrive to retrieve you at six o’clock. As your stay will be at least one night, possibly more, pack accordingly.” The bottom of the letter is signed Lawrence Wood, Esq.

“Who is Lawrence Wood?” I ask my mother.

She shakes her head, her eyes still brimming with tears as if I’ve received a death sentence. “I have no idea, but he seems important.”

I suppose the esquire part tells us that.

“He is the king’s top legal advisor,” Harvey says, marching down the stairs in a neatly tied robe, the bottom of his pajamas peeking out above his slippers. “Mrs. Jones, coffee, please.”

The housekeeper, who isn’t usually the one to manage the kitchen, scurries off, and I can tell she’s upset by the news of my inevitable departure as well. 

Harvey is still fidgeting with his belt as he comes over and plucks the letter from my hands. He reads it, shakes his head, and holds it in his hand despite me reaching for it.

I’d like to have it back. Even though I don’t like what it says, it still belongs to me. 

“This ruins everything,” he mutters, dropping the letter unceremoniously on the coffee table. “Now, Garth will have no use for you.” He turns to look at me like I’m an alley cat eating out of a garbage can behind his office building.

Mother, though tentative, leaps into protective mode. “We don’t know that,” she says. “Garth seems awfully smitten with Bexley.”

I stop the laugh that threatens to explode from my throat. He doesn’t even call me by my real first name.

Mrs. Jones returns with a service of coffee with three mugs, but I’ll not be having any. I have a lot to do today if I’m going to be ready to go at 7:00.

“What if she simply doesn’t go?” Harvey asks. “What if we send her back to Hexeton for a week or so to stay with her grandparents? When they show up to collect her, we say she’s not here?”

“Won’t that just upset the king?” Mother asks, sitting down on the couch. Harvey claims a chair and begins to sip his coffee, making a face like it’s not right. I decide I should sit as well, though I really just want to go outside and look for that deer again.

Harvey shrugs. “I doubt the king actually knows which women to expect. He’s probably just waiting in his bedroom for someone. Surely, more than one girl in the kingdom turns twenty-one today.”

“I have to go.” My voice is just a whisper, but they both turn and look at me. Mother whimpers slightly. “I don’t know how I know I have to go, but I know I do.” 

“You want to go?” Harvey looks at me as if I’m the most filthy creature in the world. 

I shake my head. “No, but I have a feeling the king will find a way to make sure I’m there. Fiona says no one has ever gotten out of it once they’ve been summoned.”

“Psh! Fiona! That girl is as daft as you are,” Harvey says. “This will ruin everything.” He sets his coffee down and flees the room, still muttering under his breath about how awful I am, the letter is the world is.

Mother reaches over and takes my hand. “He didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” Now, both of us are lying to one another. “I’m going to go outside for a bit.”

She nods with tears threatening to fall again.

I don’t worry about the crunch of the leaves as I approach the forest. It’s only when I cross the line that separates the tangle of trees and undergrowth from the rest of civilization that I am careful. I’ve spent so much time here, I know all the trails, where the animals tend to hide, what they like to eat, everything. I’ve learned a lot about animals from my time in the forest, and I truly enjoy studying their habits. I wonder if I’ll ever have a chance to put that knowledge to good use or if I will be banished after my return from the castle.

I’m just beginning to let my mind wander to what it might be like to meet the king when I see a pair of eyes staring at me from between the hedges. Golden and glowing, they’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, and it takes my breath away.

This is definitely not the white-tail.

Most of the animals I’ve encountered have a level of intelligence behind their eyes, but this one is different. It’s looking at me the same way a human would, as if it’s trying to figure me out. Like it knows just as much as I do.

Part of me says this is a predator, and I should turn and run, but the rest of me is curious. What is this? It’s too tall to be a fox or a wolf. I take a few steps closer, but then a cracking sound behind me has me turning around. I hear another animal take off through the brush, and when I turn back around, the eyes are gone.

“Who are you?” I whisper, but my only answer is a distant howl.

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