(Late December 2009)
Miracles don't happen anymore. The water was choppy, and the boat that carried her back to Rhydin rolled on the sea. Erin had gotten on the small fishing vessel at the dock at her island home on a Sunday. She kissed her husband on the forehead, and set off for Rhydin for what she hoped, would be the last time.
Jewell had died. She had gotten a letter from Ivy in the mail, and hadn't waited to leave. She had few friends that would call her back, but Jewell did. It was hard to pack a bag and resolve to return home.
Home.
The word was something she had mulled and mulled since she left Rhydin permanently the past winter. The last time she had stepped foot on the soil was when? March? April? No, it must have been June. When she turned in her ring, and locked herself from the Baronial manor she had worked so hard for.
It was impossible to know if her friends remained. Lydia was off somewhere, that she knew, somehow. Though they were no longer sisters, and no longer even friends by some standards, there was a bond there. Two people that go through that much? you can't erase that. You can't erase love. It just dries up, compresses, becomes a fossil of the living breathing being it once was. Sometimes, most of the time, no amount of care can repair that.
And perhaps that was why Erin was scared and not excited. That and the place she had left hadn't changed. A woman she called friend and her children had been killed. The world had again taken something from her that she felt was rightfully hers. Rhydin was a thief.
At least it was just for a few days. Only a few.
The winds were cold, and they bit at her arms, at her back. The journey wasn't that long, she remembered, but somehow it always felt longer. Dread made the hours creep.
Erin was as she'd ever been. Small, thin, and now tan. Her fingers calloused from hours of beading, and manipulating wire, Erin had completely lost the pampered clean look of royalty she had entered Rhydin with. Though, in the four years since she stepped through the portal behind the bushes and entered her new home, more had happened than even she could remember.
"'Scuse me, Miss, you really shouldn't be leaning over the rail like that," the porter said to her cheerfully as he passed by on the deck. "The waters are rough, and you're libel to fall in."
"Oh." Erin was awoken from her thoughts, and tried to put together a passable smile before he left her. "Thank you." His back retreated, the blue and white of his uniform shining in the sunlight.
"Don't mind them," a voice came from behind her, "they're used to idiots who haven't ever been on a boat. I can tell you've traveled."
"A bit," Erin replied as she turned to face who she was speaking to. It was an elderly man with grey hair and lines in his face. His smile was partial, and he sat lounged in a deck chair.
"You have a refinement to you, you know, young lady. You can't fool me with those rosy cheeks," the man chuckled. His jacket was plaid and it clashed with the khaki of his pants. Erin smiled in response. "Business or pleasure, then?" His eyes narrowed, and he watched her more closely.
"Neither." There was a darkening in her eyes then, and she turned to look out to sea. "A friend of mine passed?" she paused on the word. "Oh, who am I kidding, she died. She's dead." Her body bent over the rail once more as she tried to get herself closer, then, to the sea.
"You know that's not true," he whispered across the deck. "I can see it in your eyes." Erin turned again, frozen in her place. "They have a tint of--"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Erin's knuckles turned white as she gripped the rail. "My eyes are green." She spoke the words as her ex-mother in law, the queen, had taught her to-- to end conversation.
"I see I've offended you." The man's smile spread until he looked like the cheesier cat. "Good girls like you never did like to own up to their misdeeds. Do they?"
"Uh?" Erin stuttered as she backed up against the rail of the ship. "I don't know what you're talking about. I make jewelry and clothing for a living, and my husband--"
"Doesn't know that you sneak out at night and play in the cemetery, does he? Or that you can ra--"
"That's enough." Erin stomped her foot, eyes pressed together, the heiress in her returning. "Quite enough."
"I thought you'd say that." He smiled wider. "I've been following you, and I have a favor to ask you. A? detour, if you will." The man gripped a cane that was leaning on his chair and started to pull himself up.
"I'm going to miss the funeral?" Erin's protest was weak, but there none-the-less.
"No, no, you can go there first, my dear. I wouldn't deny you that. But? after, you and I are going on a trip." He hobbled to her side, patting her on the shoulder lightly. "Because they burn witches on this boat, and I'm their witch security program." He winked as he left her there on the deck. "Have a good trip home."
Miracles don't happen anymore. The water was choppy, and the boat that carried her back to Rhydin rolled on the sea. Erin had gotten on the small fishing vessel at the dock at her island home on a Sunday. She kissed her husband on the forehead, and set off for Rhydin for what she hoped, would be the last time.
Jewell had died. She had gotten a letter from Ivy in the mail, and hadn't waited to leave. She had few friends that would call her back, but Jewell did. It was hard to pack a bag and resolve to return home.
Home.
The word was something she had mulled and mulled since she left Rhydin permanently the past winter. The last time she had stepped foot on the soil was when? March? April? No, it must have been June. When she turned in her ring, and locked herself from the Baronial manor she had worked so hard for.
It was impossible to know if her friends remained. Lydia was off somewhere, that she knew, somehow. Though they were no longer sisters, and no longer even friends by some standards, there was a bond there. Two people that go through that much? you can't erase that. You can't erase love. It just dries up, compresses, becomes a fossil of the living breathing being it once was. Sometimes, most of the time, no amount of care can repair that.
And perhaps that was why Erin was scared and not excited. That and the place she had left hadn't changed. A woman she called friend and her children had been killed. The world had again taken something from her that she felt was rightfully hers. Rhydin was a thief.
At least it was just for a few days. Only a few.
The winds were cold, and they bit at her arms, at her back. The journey wasn't that long, she remembered, but somehow it always felt longer. Dread made the hours creep.
Erin was as she'd ever been. Small, thin, and now tan. Her fingers calloused from hours of beading, and manipulating wire, Erin had completely lost the pampered clean look of royalty she had entered Rhydin with. Though, in the four years since she stepped through the portal behind the bushes and entered her new home, more had happened than even she could remember.
"'Scuse me, Miss, you really shouldn't be leaning over the rail like that," the porter said to her cheerfully as he passed by on the deck. "The waters are rough, and you're libel to fall in."
"Oh." Erin was awoken from her thoughts, and tried to put together a passable smile before he left her. "Thank you." His back retreated, the blue and white of his uniform shining in the sunlight.
"Don't mind them," a voice came from behind her, "they're used to idiots who haven't ever been on a boat. I can tell you've traveled."
"A bit," Erin replied as she turned to face who she was speaking to. It was an elderly man with grey hair and lines in his face. His smile was partial, and he sat lounged in a deck chair.
"You have a refinement to you, you know, young lady. You can't fool me with those rosy cheeks," the man chuckled. His jacket was plaid and it clashed with the khaki of his pants. Erin smiled in response. "Business or pleasure, then?" His eyes narrowed, and he watched her more closely.
"Neither." There was a darkening in her eyes then, and she turned to look out to sea. "A friend of mine passed?" she paused on the word. "Oh, who am I kidding, she died. She's dead." Her body bent over the rail once more as she tried to get herself closer, then, to the sea.
"You know that's not true," he whispered across the deck. "I can see it in your eyes." Erin turned again, frozen in her place. "They have a tint of--"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Erin's knuckles turned white as she gripped the rail. "My eyes are green." She spoke the words as her ex-mother in law, the queen, had taught her to-- to end conversation.
"I see I've offended you." The man's smile spread until he looked like the cheesier cat. "Good girls like you never did like to own up to their misdeeds. Do they?"
"Uh?" Erin stuttered as she backed up against the rail of the ship. "I don't know what you're talking about. I make jewelry and clothing for a living, and my husband--"
"Doesn't know that you sneak out at night and play in the cemetery, does he? Or that you can ra--"
"That's enough." Erin stomped her foot, eyes pressed together, the heiress in her returning. "Quite enough."
"I thought you'd say that." He smiled wider. "I've been following you, and I have a favor to ask you. A? detour, if you will." The man gripped a cane that was leaning on his chair and started to pull himself up.
"I'm going to miss the funeral?" Erin's protest was weak, but there none-the-less.
"No, no, you can go there first, my dear. I wouldn't deny you that. But? after, you and I are going on a trip." He hobbled to her side, patting her on the shoulder lightly. "Because they burn witches on this boat, and I'm their witch security program." He winked as he left her there on the deck. "Have a good trip home."