Chapel Orahamm

A soft mist speckled the warbled glass that had been inset into the old archer’s slots of Wallace’s room. A servant had left lit candles, leaving the colorful glass quivering. Rowan left Farrow and me to ransack the heir apparent turned wizard’s rooms while he went back to the storage chests in the basement to retrieve anything he could put his hands to. He told Farrow to get me to the stables and find his labra-dragon creature – Quamire, to know which burden beasts to load.

Watching Farrow move around the space with silent footsteps, I contemplated what one would need to go on a long journey in a twelfth century style time frame. First thing was to find a different pair of shoes. My feet were throbbing from the terrain and my legs were screaming like I’d just done a full eight hour class day. Wandering, I rubbed at my lower back while I dug around in a corner of a wardrobe. I stopped to stare at the warm woods, the thick grey stone, the definedly not clear floor boards. When did I stop seeing the world as see through? I blinked. Now was not the time to be weird about this. I had found the see through thing terrifying, so this should feel better. But it didn’t. I grabbed out the only other pair of shoes in the wardrobe, these being of a softer leather and a strange sole that had more ware. I pulled off the shoes I was wearing and swapped them to find these things much more broken in.

I stared at the wardrobe and sifted through my thoughts, trying to decide what had changed. Why was I not seeing through anything? A minute passed, then two. I’m not sure what I figured out but a type of pressure adjusted behind my eyes as I worked my near and far sight, and suddenly I was flicking through a new set of sights. Little trails of mist running around the wardrobe made me raise an eyebrow. Another adjustment and I could see through the wardrobe again. Another shift and I found the Mander nests. Could other Yujin do this? Was it magic? Was Wallace just weird or cursed?

“Do you have any of Wallace’s memories?” Farrow dragged me out of my contemplation.

I turned from mulling over this change in my understanding of the world to give the man a once over. “Not that I’ve found yet. If you wanna ask Wallace, look in that mirror and tell me if you see anything that isn’t this room or you. Should hook up to wherever the wizardlet has gotten off to in my old body.” I waived him to that acursed mirror.

Setting my sights on an immense, carved chest, I opened the lid and rummaged through an assortment of glass bottles and metal instruments that reminded me of a chemistry lab. Eventually I was able to come away with several gold and silver coins and one sizedly large silver color coin that had a different hue from the smaller ones. I found a rabbit-like fur pouch hanging over the dressing divider and pocketed the coins. Taking the pouch, I tied it to the belt that made my tunic puff out around my waist. It did a rather poor job at keeping the funny tights up, but it was on snug enough that I didn’t have to worry about dropping the money.

Another chest, this one significantly smaller and surrounded by small pots of pungent pastes held a heaping variety of jewelry, especially ear baubles. I summarily dumped all of those into the pouch.

“Tanwyn?” Farrow whispered fertively, catching me in the act of tying on a second pouch I had come across, this one full of rough gems.

I cocked my head in question. He pointed me to the mirror. I scurried over to peek into it. Cussing thick enough to coat the sky, I pulled the curtain back over it, my cheeks heating to almost painful. “Wallace better not have been masterbating to me in the bathtub. Never hanging a goddamn mirror in my bathroom every again!” I hissed.

Farrow’s brows were nearly to their hairline. “That was you?”

I turned back to raiding Wallace’s room. “Yes. How did Wallace figure out where my apartment was? Let alone which key to get in with? Oh, Sarah probably.” One of the super friendly, very nice girls in the casting knew where I lived from a one-off chance I had let her crash on my couch because I lived closer than her on a late night when the train had stopped running.

“What a strange creature. You were tiny! Are you a child?” He gasped at me, then his cheeks also flushed. Another emotion, one of sheer rage, swept over his features. “Wallace was watching you? Like that?” He pointed back at the mirror.

“If you want to break it, be my guest. I’d rather never be reminded of who I was or the soul I swapped with.” I motioned to the big piece of furniture. “And no, I’m not a child. I just turned twenty-two a month ago. Thank you very little.”

“Okay, so you’ve gone through your first seasons then probably,” his snarling came down a notch. He gave me the impression of a cat with the way his irises were narrowed to thin slits and his teeth were pointier than a human’s.

Well, if any of those regency romance shows taught me anything, seasons were integral to nobles and upperclass people. Dances and parties and trying to snag suitors. I shrugged. No need to mess with Farrow’s understand of the world by telling him people don’t do that anymore.

“You could afford a private tub? Were you also rich there?” He finally came over to help me dig through the wardrobe and divest it of plenty of shiny baubles.

“When I say that was the cheapest studio I could find closest to the New York side of New Jersey, I figure you aren’t going to understand that was still super expensive for me and that when I come from, a great many people have access to these things as a basic necessity rather than a luxury. But yes, I had a private bathtub. Which was rigged for a twisted wizardlet to watch me in. I think I’m going to vomit.” My stomach flopped. “No wonder that room always raised the hairs on my arms. Gross. Hey, do you see a backpack or some kind of larger bag I can carry clothes in?”

Farrow helped me pull out a waxed canvas bag with a drawstring and flat cover to shield it from rain. Taking a minute to explain how to properly balance a walking pack, he helped me then go through the sets of clothes we had access to in the prince’s wardrobe. He came away with few pieces that fit his standard for durable.

“Tell me we aren’t going to walk twenty miles every day for the next year. I don’t need a round of rhabdo.” I stood up and stretched backward until it popped. I sighed out in frustration. “This guy is fuckin’ weak!”

Farrow cocked his head at me. “I speak six languages. What did you just say?”

I chuckled. “Think one of these books is empty? Maybe I’ll start a travel journal and document everything around me as some kind of fancy, uppity renaissance guy. I promise, what I said would make sense if you and I came from the same place and time, but neither of those things is happening. Anyways, I’m assuming ink and quill is the way of the pen here?” I made for a small desk next to the door and ransacked it.

Rowan disturbed my delving as he came in with the chest slung over his shoulder. “Your presence is demanded in the grand hall, matchstick.” He dropped the chest on the floor.

I wrinkled my nose. “Couldn’t find a way out after all?”

“Nope. Open this for me. Farrow, mind continuing packing for us while I take Tanwyn down to meet the family this once?” Rowan pointed me to the box and went to look over what Farrow was getting done with. I dropped the bags off my waist and tossed them on Farrow’s pile. Didn’t need awkward questions from the king. The lock went faster this time now that I had memorized the pattern.

“Everything hurts. Tomorrow’s going to hurt worse. I’m famished and feeling just a touch bitey. How’s this going to work?” I asked Rowan as we exited and my joints protested the stairs.

“Smile. Gently kiss the air on each side of Priscilla’s face. Start on the right. Then bow to the man on the throne and kiss the woman’s hand. You don’t have to say anything until you are asked a question. If and when I kneel, you do not. Stand tall and look like you’re willing to blaspheme against the gods. Don’t use the Manders and try to keep from using your strange words.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Rowan directed me toward the grand doors I had tried to avoid earlier in the morning. A guard nodded to Rowan and announced us to the room as he opened the monstrosity. I had to give credit to whoever was greasing the head-sized hinges. It didn’t make a peep. I straitened and channeled every acting class I had taken for ballet. I could do this.

The muscle memory wasn’t there, but I came forward on a softened demi to glide across the floor and into the center of the lights and festive costumes. My garments were plainer, darker, and in that moment, with that direction to blaspheme against the gods, the soft smile I used was meant to threaten death. Priscilla would want fire drops. I knew I could do better.

I smoothly snatched up a goblet of red liquid and approached the daise as the crowd parted for me. Setting my teeth, I gave a sharp smile as I raised the goblet toward the younger woman who sat to the right of who I assumed to be Rowan’s mother. Both of the women’s tension eased as they spotted me and the crowd quieted. “Forgive my tardiness, Your Majesty. I desired a gift suited for our dear Priscilla – one more fine than firedrops this year.” I layered in the charm into my voice, reveling in the smoothness of the deep pitch. If I was playing the roll of a prince, I was going to channel every main character from the ballet’s I had participated in over the years. Rowan failed to keep from looking at me in surprise.

The man on the central throne was impossing and almost ageless in appearance. The epitome of an elf, he had a cascade of jewels along his ears and a deep purple outfit to bring out amethyst eyes. All the other courtiers around me had similar features, but the length of his ears was astounding and arresting comparatively. He tilted his head to indicate for me to move on.

Theatrically, I pushed back one foot to form an elegant bow while pulling the liquid from the cup as a bubble. This was me playing with a crowd. The part of ballet, of contemporary dance that I truelly loved. A solo act with all eyes seeing every perfected movement when their breathing would tell me if my timing was spot on. My body ached and it was time to perform. The orb of pulsing liquid became a prop, and I fell into a dance pattern that wasn’t this body’s muscle memory, but was imprinted into my soul. Soon I had a series of firedrops circling what I figured was wine to create a planetary system. The crowd had fallen silent in mesmerized awe. Priscilla left her chair and scurried forward to watch. I stilled, leaning down to her short stature so she could watch the orbs, and I was able to give her a cursory study. With a name like Priscilla, I had expected the daughter of royalty to be hauty and dismissive. Instead, what I saw was a girl with shy eyes and a cupid heart face. She possessed a gentle smile that gave the impression of naivety. Her features looked nothing like her mother. Everything about her was of her father.

“What is this, Wallace?” Her voice was breathy and small, the type gained from being bullied in dark corners at school, or heavy handed tutors probably in her case.

“Just a little magic, my lovely sister. Tell me, how has this evening greeted you?” I kept my features ameniable, the mask fitting on smoothly. Rowan couldn’t quite stop looking at me like I’d burst into flames.

“There have been many suitors,” she stated it more like a question. I had no clue as to the relationship between Wallace and Priscilla, but my immediate impression was maybe she had a bit of a hero worship complex for her brother. I didn’t feel like digging into what was causing that.

“Do any support your goals?” I carefully bid the orb and firedrops to circle around her pale yellow dress, making the gems sewn into it flicker.

She furrowed a brow at that question, her lips forming an o-shape as she worked to understand my meaning. Slowly, she flicked her glance from the shimmering gems to a series of men and women in the crowd. “Yes, I believe a few would.”

“And any that you would support their’s?” I stepped in closer and dropped my voice so that it would just be us.

She scrutinized me at that. “One.”

“May I meet this elusive candidate?” I pulled the orbs back to me.

“Kontory of Ivanyon.” Her voice had shifted to the type of awestruck I recognized as a girl with a crush. She flicked a hand toward a tall woman in a gold and orange wrap with the baring of a bodybuilder. Dark skin and a different shape to her ears, drooping low with the shape of something bovine, indicated she wasn’t quite what Priscilla or I were, but I couldn’t place the difference. I breathed out a subtle sigh of relief. If the princess was allowed a same-sex marriage, then maybe this world was more advanced than my own. Maybe this would b better.

I turned a shining smile on this woman Priscilla had indicated. Kontory carefully shifted forward into the space where Priscilla and I stood. I gave the woman a full once over and could see a faint glitter of blue around her, almost the shade of my firedrops. No one else seemed to have them. I had to wonder at that. Sturdy came to mind as a way to describe Kontory of Ivanyon. With a smirk, I directed my firedrops and split up the orb of red liquor to interact with those glitters. They pulsed a soft gold when they came in contact. I found a static feeling at the edge of my fingertips with the interaction. Magic. That’s what the glitter had to be. Gasps from the crowd told me the color change was visible to them.

I looked down at Priscilla and gave her a softer smile. “I think I’ll approve of this one.” I had no clue who these people were. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was stepping into someone’s life and acting like I’d always been there. I could only hope that I wasn’t giving her permission for a bad descision. If I was even allowed to be helping with it. My senses said though that she was looking for my approval and I didn’t have enough time in the world to figure out who would genuinely be good for this wallflower. “I can see why you’re interested. Happy birthday.” I shot the fire drops up toward the ceiling and made them scatter like fireworks where they would defuse and not be liable to set anythingon fire. I returned the red liquor to my goblet and handed it to Priscilla. Just in time too as lethargy settled heavy into my spine.

Kontory approached Priscilla and offered a hand to her with an equally shy smile. I turned from the two love birds to approach the king and queen. They both watched me carefully.

“A marvelous performance.” The queen stated, though I couldn’t place if she was pleased or repulsed.

“Yes. I haven’t heard of such magic before, Wallace. You will have to tell me of this new tome you are studying to be capable of that show.” The king gave me a wary smile.

“Just something collecting dust on my shelf. I will have it sent.” I gave back as warm of a smile as I could manage.

“I would say your magic has grown stronger, Wallace,” the king continued, brow furrowed.

“Only barely, and only because it is Priscilla’s birthday. It exhausts me, though,” with that I sagged to add emphasis. Wallace was known to be the bed-ridden prince. Now was optimal to make it look like I needed to leave and hopefully diffuse the tension coming in waves off the diase.

“It was kind of you. For that, I would present you with platinum clink to celebrate your magic, and a second for helping Priscilla find a suitor we all may approve of.” The king waived a servant toward me who had a little dish with a dome lid in his hand. I hadn’t noticed the individual off to the side of the room. Nubbed horns and a black bar of skin across the top of his brow forced me to realize that there were most defintely several types of humanoid species in this world. Under the dome was a platinum coin. It was the same as that large coin I had found earlier. So that one wasn’t silver. A different servant followed in the wake of the first. This one had drooping bovine like ears similar to Kontory. The smile she gave me was broad and pleased as she lifted the dome to her dish and I took the coin with a nod.

“Rowan, see that the heir apparent is settled into his room. He has done much for us this evening.” The queen dismissed us.

He knelt and I nodded my head in their direction before following Rowan out and back to the tower stairs. Once away from prying eyes and far enough up the stairs, Rowan pushed me to the wall. “What was that?” he seethed.

“A mask. An act.”

“I know my mother is Rugoshi. But you’re Yujin. That. What you just did in there? Giving Priscilla your blessing to court a Faybar? It’s going to devastate internal alliances.”

“Faybar?”

“Yes, Kontory of Ivonyon is Faybar.”

“She kind of reminded me of Farrow.”

“He’s Karamide. Entirely different Peoples.”

“That servant that gave me the platinum, he wasn’t like Kontory or Farrow.”

“No,” Rowan sagged and let go. “He was Twilig.” He started back up the stairs.

“Is there a problem with Faybar?” I followed him. “If this was going to be a political problem, why even invite other people to the function? I mean, doesn’t everyone know that Priscilla is half-Rugoshi?”

“Yujin People in general have been petitioning the king to return back to a more pure blood. Priscilla is not well liked by the Yujin and this is not going to make it better. It’s not like her children will show signs of Rugoshi blood if she marries Yujin. Provider almost always overthrows. Rarely does it not.”

“Racism?” I guessed. As an aside, “and really weird genetics.”

Rowan nodded with a frown.

“Are you wanting me to be racist?” I puzzled at that prospect. Was Wallace known for being Yujin supportive?

He paused at the door with that question.

“It’s going to be aweful hard for me to understand what types of bigotry are going on in this world with only having been here for less than a full day. I don’t even know anything about Priscilla. I just pointed her at someone she clearly had a crush on and can now hope for the best with them. At least this world doesn’t seem to have an issue with women dating each other, so I guess it’s fine with men too?” I opened the door and led us in.

“Of course it’s fine. It’s sanctified in all the religions I’m familiar with and all Nine of the People allow for it. One of the few things all Nine agree on.”

• Copyright Chapel Orahamm LLC. Do not reproduce this writing or art in any form.
• Cover art for book reviews belongs to the author and their commissioned artist.
• No AI was used in the making of this post, book, or art.
• I do not consent to the use of my writing in training any form of AI.