Fragile

1. ACCIDENT

In defiance of her etiquette lessons, Betha gaped at her brother across the dining table. Pride lit his face as he shattered her world with his announcement.

“Congratulations, boy,” said their grandsire. “The Fourth is a fine family to serve. Great achievement for a first posting.”

The angry buzzing inside Betha’s head blurred his words so she barely heard Danko’s reply.

“Thank you, sir. I hardly dared aim so high, but the Fourth seem to have posts available more often than most.”

“And one might ask why,” Granddam sounded worried. “Be careful, Danko, you don’t want to end up a pawn in one of the Great Houses’ power plays.”

The conversation continued, but the words formed a meaningless babble that flowed over Betha’s head and out through the open double doors leading to the formal garden. The competing scents of pesalka and rhyll bushes in full bloom tangled with that of her discarded meal, fetching a sour taste to her tongue. Or was it the thought of Danko leaving that squeezed her stomach until its contents threatened to reappear on her half empty plate? She thrust back from the table and lunged to her feet. Her chair toppled over behind her as she bolted from the dining room.

“Betha, come back here!” Grandsire’s shouted order chased after her as she fled out into the garden.

It wasn’t fair! She would be left at home, with no one but her elderly grandparents and their equally ancient staff for company. Why did Danko get to go off and see the world, leaving her stuck here until she was of age to be married? She faced another five years of boring lessons in how to be a good wife when she would rather be training to fight, to serve her kingdom, to be useful. It was so unreasonable, just because she’d had the misfortune to be been born a girl!

The stultifying future she faced stretched in a grey mist before her. No one to play with, to wrestle with, to race up and down the undulating grounds of the family mansion. Danko was the only one to ever treat her as a person rather than some delicate flower that might wilt unless cosseted and protected from life.

Betha knew she looked fragile. Everyone mentioned her fine bone structure, her elfin figure, and her soft, pale skin. She’d overheard adults wonder if her mind might be as fragile as her body. She didn’t think so, she just thought them rude.

Life was so not fair!

“Betha?” Danko called from behind her. “Come back, please?”

She ignored her brother and doubled her pace, threading her way between the colourful flowerbeds. Even the plants sported more colour than she did; no wonder her grandparents spent more time appreciating them than they did their granddaughter.

Danko’s hand touched her shoulder, but she shrugged him off and sprinted forward. She knew she had no chance of outrunning his longer legs, but she kept going anyway. Once they’d passed the cultivated part of the garden to emerge on a broad green bank hidden from the house by a thick hedge, she spun to face him. “How could you do this to me?” she demanded.

Danko at least had the decency to look sheepish. “I’m sorry, Bee, but you know I can’t stay here forever. It’s not like we’re a major noble House; I have to earn a living, and you have to learn to be the best wife you can to find yourself a wealthy husband.”

“I don’t want a husband!” Betha stamped one foot. She regretted it as soon as her heel hit the hard ground and jarred all the way up to her teeth. Only a baby would give in to such a tantrum, and she was no baby; she’d seen twelve summers already.

Danko’s patient expression brought heat to her cheeks. He owned only four summers more than her, and yet he was so wise. He’d been her confidant, her co-conspirator, her sole friend.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and her chin wobbled.

“Don’t cry, Bee.” Danko wrapped her in a hug so tight she fought for breath. When had he grown so strong? “I’ll come home when I get leave. You’ll see, I’ll be back before you miss me.”

How she wanted to give in and accept the small slice of comfort he offered, but cook’s husband was a guard with the Seventh Family, and he hardly ever came to visit. She squirmed out of Danko’s hold, employing tactics they’d practiced together, here in this very part of the garden where no one could see them. Danko never treated her as if she was fragile; he would be in awful trouble with their grandparents if they discovered how he’d taught her the unarmed fighting techniques he learned from his tutor. He claimed it was because he needed someone to practice with, but Betha secretly believed he was teaching her so she could become a guard too.

Of course, she’d known for a while now what a stupid notion that was. Girls could never be guards, they could only become wives and, goddess willing, mothers. She felt tears welling again, and a wave of anger at the parents she’d never known: why could they not have made her a boy too?

She rounded on her brother as the only available target. “Why did you teach me to fight when I’ll never be allowed to? I can do everything you’ve shown me, and I can do some of it better than you!”

She’d show him. He’d never been very good at some of the more gymnastic moves his tutor had tried to drill into him. They had spent several weeks just this last spring practicing a great leap off the nearby wall that held up a sheer bank, dropping to the lawn below to tuck and roll back up onto their feet. Betha could land like a feather and be upright and running before Danko dusted himself off and gathered his wits.

“Betha, don’t!”

But she’d launched into a sprint before he could stop her, going faster than she’d ever run before. As she raced down the hill her feet gathered speed all on their own, and she flew off the edge of the bank faster than she expected. Time seemed to stop just long enough for her to feel her body twisting to one side, her arms and legs flailing as she struggled to straighten up. Fear stole her breath.

Her left foot struck the rock-hard ground first, and instead of a controlled tuck and roll, her body crumpled. Agony lanced up her leg. She tumbled over and over, each turn creating flares of scorching pain that tore through her body.

When the world stopped spinning, the sky filled her vision with puffy white clouds drifting sedately above, keeping the midday glare from being too dazzling. Betha attempted to push up onto her elbows, but a wave of pain engulfed her. She fell back and sucked in trembling breaths until she stopped feeling sick.

With great care, she raised her head just enough to see something jagged and white poking out of her left shin, through the fabric of her favourite green leggings.

She secretly enjoyed annoying granddam by dressing like a boy, but regretted doing so today. If she’d worn a flouncy dress, she’d probably not have attempted the tuck and roll, and then she wouldn’t have ruined her lovely leggings. What was that sticking out of them?

“Betha? Oh goddess, what have you done?”

Danko’s black-clad legs arrived in her limited field of vision. He sounded scared. She wanted to stand up to reassure him, but her muscles refused to obey.

“We’ll need sticks for a splint,” Danko declared after peering more closely at her leg. “I’ll have to get help. Stay still Betha, you mustn’t move or you’ll make it worse, do you understand me?”

A new pain tightened her throat. She was going to be in so much trouble! She gulped a dry sob and found a breathy little voice that didn’t sound at all like her own. “Please, don’t!”

But Danko either didn’t hear, or chose to ignore her plea, his running bootsteps slapping against the hard ground as they receded towards the house. She wanted to yell at him to come back, to keep the accident a secret, but if she cried out their grandparents might hear. She hoped he would seek the gardener, which would make the most sense if he wanted sticks. Surely, he wouldn’t tell granddam or grandsire?

She closed her eyes and prayed to the goddess, entreating Her to undo whatever it was she’d done to herself.

Had the goddess listened? She tried to sit up again but shooting pains sucked the breath from her lungs. Her mind floated adrift in a sea of suffering while her body held rigid, and yet within that misery something pricked at her, seeking attention.

In the centre of her body, a spark kindled, warming her chest. The more she concentrated on it, the hotter it grew, rolling upward to her head, out along her arms, and downwards, towards her legs. Sweat erupted from her skin and she panted like an overheated puppy. When the strange phenomenon engulfed her injured leg, she whimpered.

But instead of the expected agony, a comforting warmth wrapped the broken bone. Pleasure flooded her senses, and she felt like she’d been swaddled in the softest, warmest, sweetest-smelling blanket on a bitterly cold day. Pushing up onto her elbows she stared in fascination as the spiky ends of her shattered shin bone drew back inside her flesh, fitting together like a perfect puzzle. As each piece knitted into place, and then as her torn and bloody skin closed over the smooth, flawless bone, waves of bliss coursed through her.

Praise Chel: the goddess had answered her prayers! Before long she was left with nothing more than the ripped and blood-soaked fabric of her leggings to show where the catastrophic fracture had been. Surely, the rapture accompanying such a miraculous healing must be the gift of Chel’s divine touch.

Betha hugged the lingering memory to herself, wondering if she would ever feel it again.

The sun slipped from behind a small cloud to bathe her in its mellow glow, spreading brightness across the lawns. Cautiously, Betha climbed to her feet and put a little weight on the leg. Nothing. Not a pang, not even a twinge. Still a little wary, she hopped from foot to foot, then squatted and sprang up again. No pain. The leg was as good as new. Or maybe it was better, or she was better. Energy zinged along her nerves, the garden around her sparkled with intense colours, and the air smelled incredibly rich and sweet.

Betha realised she was grinning like a fool, but she didn’t care. Her body, so recently broken and incapacitated, now felt as light as one of those fluffy clouds overhead. If she flapped her arms like a bird’s wings, she thought she might fly.

“We’re coming, Betha!” Danko’s voice called from the garden above, before he came to an abrupt halt a little way back from the top of the stupid bank she’d jumped off. His mouth fell open and she giggled at how silly he looked, gawping down at her.

“What—?”

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, bouncing up and down to prove it. “It wasn’t that bad, really.”

“But—”

“What is it, boy?”

“Where is she?”

Betha’s heart sank. Danko had fetched their grandparents. How was she to explain her dishevelled condition, and what she was doing down here in the first place?

Danko jumped down carefully, and grabbed her by the shoulders. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “I told you to stay still, your leg…”

She tried to shake him off, but his fingers dug into her arms. “I’m fine! Why did you have to call them?”

“You weren’t fine; I know a broken leg when I see one.” Fear flashed in his eyes, and he shook her until her teeth rattled. “What have you done?”

Betha scowled defiantly. “Nothing. Chel healed me; isn’t that why we pray to Her?”

Danko’s hand fell away and he stumbled back a step. His expression puzzled Betha. Shouldn’t he be happy? Unless…

“Oh, that doesn’t mean I want to become a priestess,” she said hastily, as her grandparents arrived on the bank above. “Just because She answered me doesn’t make me anything special. Does it?”

She ground her teeth together. No, she really didn’t want to be a priestess: their lives were even more boring than that of a wife. What she really wanted to do, was to serve her kingdom, but no one seemed to understand that, or offer any options on how she might achieve such a feat.

She suddenly became aware of the intense silence from her grandparents. When she stared up at them, grandsire looked somehow older, his shoulders slumped and his face drawn. Granddam’s chin trembled, and then she flung herself into her husband’s arm, weeping.

Baffled, Betha turned to her brother for an explanation. He held out his hand and she took it.

“Come on, Bee, let’s go back to the house.”

He drew her away, taking the longer route through the gardens so they didn’t have to scramble up the bank. That also took them away from their grandparents, leaving them to their mutual comfort. Glancing back, Betha’s guts churned with confusion and worry. She tightened her grip on Danko’s hand and pulled him to a halt.

“I don’t understand. What’s happened?”

Danko sighed, and turned to face her, taking both of her hands in his own. She stared down at his strong fists, so much larger than her own they almost engulfed her tiny hands, and yet he held them tenderly, like he would cradle an injured bird.

“Do you remember our mother?”

What a strange question. Betha shook her head. “Not really. Why?”

“But you know she died, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Betha felt like she could not draw in enough air. Was she going to die too?

“You have to understand, we’ve tried to keep this a secret for your own good. And you mustn’t tell anyone, ever. Understand?” His deep blue eyes bored into hers.

Sweat sprang to Betha’s brow again, but this time it was cold and clammy. She nodded, her mouth too dry to answer.

“Our family is cursed—or rather, the women of our family. We’ve all prayed you would be spared, but what you’ve just done…”

His voice trailed away, and confusion once more spun Betha’s thoughts in a dizzying reel. “I don’t understand,” she protested in a tiny voice.

Danko seemed to gather his thoughts, frightening her even more when tears rolled down his cheeks. Her strong brother never wept!

“It’s an evil kind of magic. Mother could heal herself, like you just did.”

“You mean, it wasn’t Chel? I can do that to myself?” That didn’t sound so bad. Why would Danko call it evil? She dragged her attention back to what he was saying.

“She would hurt herself, just to use her healing magic, again and again. Each time, she would hurt herself a little bit more, until one day—” His voice choked off, and Betha flung her arms around him in a huge hug. She couldn’t bear to see her brother so sad.

“I won’t do that, I promise.”

Danko nodded but the sadness remained smeared across his face.

“I will do my best to help you, little Bee. I just wish I wasn’t going away!”

Betha straightened her shoulders and slipped her hands free from his grasp. “I will be fine; you’ve taught me how to be strong, although I wish you weren’t going too. All my lessons now will be about manners and posture, and how to manage a great house. That’s what you leaving means to me.”

A lopsided smile flashed across Danko’s face. “Come on, granddam will want to talk to you.”

2. DREAMS

Betha shivered. Despite the warmth of the summer’s day outdoors, the moment she entered the drawing room, she felt chilled.

Granddam appeared a few moments later, the stiffened layers of her skirts rustling like a gentle breeze disturbing brittle autumn leaves. The slightly cloying scent of honeysuckle trailed after her as she trod with heavy, deliberate steps across the thick, maroon and green patterned rug that took up most of the central floor space. She settled herself on a formal upright chair before fixing Betha with a stern look.

“Betha, you must promise never to use that evil power again.”

Betha stared at granddam’s red and puffy eyes. The family matriarch was a formidable woman, always in control of her emotions, and Betha found it most unsettling to see her so visibly upset.

“Yes, granddam; I promise.”

There. One simple promise and life could go back to normal. Couldn’t it? The corners of Betha’s mouth drooped as she remembered the announcement that had begun this whole unfortunate stream of events. Life could never be the same again: Danko was leaving home.

She glanced towards her brother. He was doing that annoying thing he did of lining up all the candles on the mantle in order of height, with a squat, burned down one on the left, rising in sequence to the freshest, as-yet unlit taper on the right.

“And you must never, ever, speak of it to anyone else. Do you understand?” Granddam’s stern voice snapped Betha’s attention back to the scolding at hand. “Your life could be forfeit if anyone ever discovers you can use magic.”

Goddess, she hadn’t thought of that. She knew magic was forbidden by law, but until today that hadn’t really meant anything to her. She gulped and nodded.

“Say it, child.”

“I promise never to speak to anyone about it. I don’t want to die!”