Free Bird of Chaos: Book One of the Harpy's Curse by Susie Mander Page B

though in truth one died of an ague, the other in infancy.
    Gelesia’s smile was uneasy and she looked up or away, unwilling to maintain eye contact. “Kiss her ring,” she said to the boy, who hid behind her skirt, half of his face in shadow.
    Chase was a stern, contemplative child who rarely smiled. But what really set him apart was his complexion. While most of the Golding family were dark haired and olive skinned he was blond and fair. He would grow up to be the most handsome and aloof of the lot of us.
    My mother nudged me and I stumbled forwards, remembering to curtsey—low enough to show my respect but not so low that I implied he was my superior. Chase blushed and buried his head in his mother’s peplos.
    “Ashaylah,” a woman called and waved from the top of the stairs. It was Thera Brunt of Lete and Bidwell Heights, a district leader and my mother’s cousin. She was tall and beautiful in a sharp, spindly sort of way—a woman whose bitterness, I assumed, was the result of having two sons. She floated gracefully down the stairs, holding her peplos out from her feet.
    Her sons Odell and Hero followed her. Odell was eleven and the oldest of our group. He was a tall, lanky, awkward boy with a rodent face and cold eyes. His hair was straight and spiked. His lips were fixed in a permanent smirk.
    Herodotus, or Hero for short, was the youngest. He looked out of place among his family. He was a good foot shorter than Odell, and had dark curls and a thick squat body. Of my cousins, he would become my favourite. He ran ahead of his mother and came up short just in front of me. “Verne! Can we play?”
    I looked him up and down and finding no reason to deny him I nodded. “But only if we don’t have to do kids’ stuff.”
     
    That evening the celebration was to take part in the grand ballroom of Veraura palace. Hero and I had been crawling into the spaces between the walls and were covered in cobwebs. We followed the smell of roast dolphin to the ballroom, where a single, shabby looking war-wit stood guard outside a large timber door. Music and laughter came to us from inside. Just as I placed my hand on the bronze doorknob, the door flung open. Hero’s mother, Thera, stood blocking our way. “What do you think you are doing?”
    I shrugged. “Getting dinner.” I glanced at Hero and smiled. “This is Chase’s Gift Day, isn’t it?”
    We could barely control our laughter.
    “Gift Day celebrations are for Talents only. As neither of you have received your gift you are to eat in the dining room with the rest of the children.” She pointed down the hall with her chin. I hesitated. Now that the ballroom was closed to us, there was nowhere I would rather be.
    “Please. We will be on our bestest behaviour,” I said, trying to see past her. All I could make out was the warm glow of a thousand candles.
    “Absolutely not. Now go on, get.” She spun us around and pushed us towards the dining room.
    We trudged down the hall. I didn’t want to dine with the other children. I wanted to see Chase’s initiation. My curiosity was eating me from the inside out.
    We could hear the babble from within the dining room. I knew what was inside: the expectation of good table manners and tedious small talk—“Please pass me the caviar. Why thank you; isn’t this divine. ”
    “I have an idea,” I said and followed an attendant as he exited the dining room carrying an empty tray over his head. Hero’s face was anxious but he fell in line behind me all the same. We followed the attendant down a long corridor, turned, and turned again. The smell of roast turtle and sweet crab got stronger and stronger. The attendant spun, placed his rear against a small swinging door and pushed, entering the kitchen backwards. “Wait here,” I said to Hero then, as an afterthought: “Yell if anyone comes.”
    He took hold of my sleeve, “Do you think this is a good idea? If Gelesia catches us it will shame our mothers.”
    I shrugged.