“You’re giving me a bad rep. How are these guys supposed to keep confidence in a man who keeps getting beat by a girl?” Mark whispered. They both chuckled.
“She’s a natural,” Keith said, emerging through the door and sipping from a steaming mug. He took the opportunity to mess her hair, which he knew she hated. She brushed the white strands out of her face and glared at him, but when he only grinned in response.
“Oh, shut up.” Mark purposely bumped his shoulder into his twin while entering the cottage, spilling Keith’s drink in the process.
“Oo, oo! Hot! Hot!….Sore loser,” Keith called over his shoulder, tugging at his steaming shirt. He winked his little sister. “Maybe next time you should let him win.”
“I heard that.” Claire and Keith laughed at Mark’s low growl.
“No, I don’t think I will. I was supposed to get three glorious hours of extra sleep this morning, remember?”
“Amazing. I remember that number being a little different last night,” Keith said, raising a brow.
“Oh you’re superior, but I do not think being a superior pain in the butt counts,” Mark grumbled, reappearing at the door with a piece of toast.
“So if I admit it, can I sleep in tomorrow?” Keith asked, ushering Claire through the door. She looked over her shoulder and watched the other men head for the trail to the village.
“Thanks guys!” She called to them and then turned to her brother. “I don’t think Marcel will let you get away with it.”
“Get away with what?” Marcel asked when the three walked into the kitchen glowing with warmth and firelight. Heavenly smells of simmering bacon and baking bread filled the room and caressed her senses. Claire hated when her brothers planned attack drills before breakfast. Her stomach growled in agreement.
“Keith’s trying to get out of drills, says he wants to sleep in. And Mark admits that I am the best, that I should be made General, and that I strike fear into the hearts of men with my superior speed, fighting skills, and charm. In short, he has surrendered!” Claire winked at the old woman and hopped onto a stool, reaching for a steaming biscuit. Marcel only smiled and went back to her cooking.
It had taken some time for the older woman to understand that the juvenile bickering the three siblings engaged in was their way of showing affection. They had been this way Claire’s whole life and she would have it no other way. It was fun teasing her brothers and equally fun being teased in return.
They took turns bickering or gloating, then basked in their shared laughter. The child’s play had become a necessity to make it through the grueling training and stress of the mounting rebellion.
“WOW. Apparently I said a whole lot in your dreams last night. Seriously you give one compliment and she turns it into groveling. Is this a normal woman thing or is she just warped in the head?” Mark reached for his own biscuit with a self-satisfied smile, but Marcel hit his knuckles with a wooden spoon. He squawked and yanked the hand back, sucking on the grazed skin.
“Mark, you’re just sulking because I kicked your butt…again.” Claire grabbed a second biscuit, gloating when Marcel didn’t stop her. “And I can’t help it if I have to improve your compliments. I mean, let’s be honest, you’re not very good at them.”
“Oh, like when you told Clarissa that I thought she had eyes the color of the sea, hair as fresh as roses in the spring, and the face of an angel? And what was the other one? That one could lose his soul to a goddess like her?” Keith snorted and nearly choked on a mouthful of egg. Marcel turned from the table to hide her smile, and Claire looked sweetly at her brother.
“You told me how pretty you thought she was,” Claire replied, batting her eyelashes innocently.
“Yeah, I said she was pretty and I liked her eyes…I didn’t say that I thought she was an angel. Nor did I say we should get married by next solstice.” Mark ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I haven’t had a moment’s peace since you twisted my words. She is constantly hounding me about getting serious. Now even her father has been hinting to me about marriage arrangements.” Everyone in the room laughed, except Mark.
“Well, it is time you settled down and got married. You’re not getting any younger,” Keith said, clapping Mark on the shoulder. “Besides, she is cute and an she’s an amazing cook. I think she’d make a great wife. Wasn’t that an apple pie she brought over the other day? You weren’t complaining about her while you were eating it. By yourself, I might add.”
“Yeah? She used salt instead of sugar and the crust was burnt. I didn’t eat more than a bite. Trust me brother, I would have gladly shared. In fact the rest of it may still be out in the pig shed if you want me to grab you a slice. I doubt they’ve even touched it. Besides, I don’t need her burned food when I have a gourmet chef right here,” he said, winking at Marcel.
“Well, I’m not marrying you, so get the idea out of your head, Bryston,” she replied, wagging her spoon at Mark in warning and using his birth name for good measure. Claire almost spit the mouthful of egg she was chewing all over the table.
Before they had adopted local names to hide in Tyrell, Mark had been called Bryston and Keith Kaynon. Marcel and many others still called the twins by their childhood names, though Claire continued to call them by the ones she had always known. The use of the name wasn’t what made her spit, however. It was surprise that Marcel had actually joined their antics. The twins looked equally amazed and Mark’s gaping mouth struggled to find a rebuttal.
“That’s no’…I wasn’….WOMEN! See what I mean?” He threw his hands in the air. “I give up. Let’s eat.” Again the whole room erupted in laughter.
“He’s losing a lot of battles this morning. Maybe we should take it easy on him,” Marcel said with a gentle nod. “I’m sure we could give him the day off. I know that little gal’s been dreaming about romantic picnics.” Mark just glared at her.
“Marcel, what’s on the schedule for today?” Keith jumped in to give Mark a break and get down to business. They needed their daily list of chores before they took off to the training camp for the day.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Three voices echoed skeptically. Marcel smiled and gestured them to follow her to the living room where a canvas of bearskin stretched across the adjoining kitchen wall.
Marcel had spent her younger years exploring Danyon and carefully mapping it on the hide with embroidery. The heavy map now hung on the wall with a variety of colored pins scattered across it with black indicating the lands under Leishmann’s rule and green showing the few still untouched. Purple showed the neutral areas where negotiations were taking place. Most brilliant were the red pins, like rubies sparkling in the sunset. These were the villages and farmlands that had pledged to join the fight against Leishmann’s rule. There, in the middle of the canvas, was a new shining red pin that seemed to wink at Claire. She looked at the growing number of red pins and felt like jumping for joy.
“I received the news on the road this morning,” Marcel said, raising a slip of thick, fibrous paper covered in characters that Claire was still struggling to learn. “The news has already reached the village and they will be preparing a festival for tonight.”
Once word had spread that the prophesied savior of Danyon--the Child of White--had returned, villages all over Danyon had been rising against Leishmann’s rule. Each new village that stood up to Leishmann brought them one step closer to victory and thus each pledge was received and welcomed with a small celebration in her father’s honor.
Clad, Claire’s father, had inadvertently begun a rebellion after Leishmann began sweeping the nation and dominating the people with fire and death, including Clad’s own family home. Clad, his wife Arianna, and Marcel had found a book of prophecies and the orphaned twins among the destruction of his Uncle’s village. In the book it told of a child of white that would save the world and the twins would be her protectors. Clad and Arianna adopted the boys as their own and spent years rebuilding from Leishmann’s terror.
They travelled from one village to the next, spreading word of the prophecy and gathering the meager survivors. They were able to find a place of moderate peace, but couldn’t hide forever. Leishmann found their people and while Clad sacrificed himself to protect them, the twins barely managed to escape with the newborn Claire to another realm. Now with her return and her shocking white hair, the country was beginning to stir.
The celebrations were small affairs, but each small win helped remind them of Clad’s devotion to stopping Leishmann and solidified their faith in Claire’s destiny. Once Claire’s army destroyed Leishmann, the people would have peace and could prosper once again in their own lands.
The thought of facing Leishmann again brought a smile to Claire’s face. Every day she imagined the moment she would join the front lines of battle. How she wanted to make her father proud by protecting the people she had grown to love, but for now she was forced to wait, train, and watch until the time was right for her to go forward and make her stand against Leishmann. Until that day she would receive her messages from the captains about the progress they were making in recruitment and battle while she and her brothers continued to train with the new recruits.
Leishmann had been single-mindedly searching for Claire since she escaped his clutches, but so far he had overlooked this small, secluded village. The people knew better than to expect that they were safe from him forever. Because their peaceful existence could be short lived, they celebrated their successes and lived each day as though it were their last.
“This is amazing!” Keith grinned, taking the slip of paper from Marcel and reading the details. “From here we’ll be able to…”
“No Keith,” Marcel interrupted, taking the paper back. “No war talk. Today is a day of rest and celebration. It is bad luck to ignore the blessings from Sorchanna. Keith knew better than to argue, so instead he and Mark bent their heads together to discuss a beam in the barn that needed replacing.
Claire looked from one brother to the next then turned her eyes to the smiling Marcel. With a nod Marcel told her to go get ready. With no other encouragement Claire disappeared into her room to dress. She poured cool water into a bowl then used soap and a washcloth to quickly cleanse her sweaty skin. She dressed and raked a comb through her long white hair. She walked back into the kitchen, still folding her long locks into a braid.
“Where’s Shaylee?” She asked, glancing around and only now realizing that she had missed the quiet girl’s absence over breakfast.
“She went to help with the preparations for tonight's celebration.” Marcel answered. Claire nodded and followed her brothers out the door, pausing to kiss Marcel on the cheek as they left
Aksara