Chapter 13: 15-16. Noble Grounds // The Rainbow Door

Rorri

 

Fine stones cobbled the path leading to the Rosari manor, hedged in by shrubberies pruned to geometric perfection. A rainbow of flowers painted the gardens on either side of the path, and the house itself was so bright and white that it pained Rorri’s sensitive eyes. The gate stood twice his height, wrought of black iron with spear-headed bars, and the metal plate welded to its front bore the symbols depicting his destination:

 

415 PIROUETTE LANE

 

Rorri tiptoed out of the carriage with a sense that the pebbles beneath his feet were individually more valuable than his life. He felt like a fish on the forest bed, parched and out of place. But, remembering he wason the job, he put on the Snow’s confident veneer and strutted down the path, biting his tongue to hide his jaw’s quivering.

An orchid-pink elf stood ready at the gate. As the foreigner approached, the guard’s hand hovered over the hilt of his sword.

“State your business!”

Rorri froze, unprepared for such a hostile welcome. Unlike the guards he had seen before, this one’s fine chain shirt sparkled in the sun, untarnished by weather and wear – certainly offering lesser protection than the Royal Guards’ heavy chain – and instead of a purple tabard, a garish blue tunic covered his armor, embroidered with the same flying magpie from the red seal. In its detail and color, Rorri saw that it carried a pearl in its beak. He had no connection with magpies or pearls, as far as he could remember, but the symbol felt strangely familiar, like something he recognized from a dream.

“Right, s-sorry – I’m, uh, here for the, uh…” Rorri mumbled indistinctly, rifling through his bag for the invitation. “Magic – sorry, I-I’m here for the magic lessons…”

He finally found it and offered it to the guard, who snatched it and held it up to the sky, where the sun illuminated a faint watermark. The guard grunted, apparently satisfied, and handed the document back.

“Alright, ser,” the guard said, “hold your arms out to the side, please.”

Rorri complied, holding his breath as the guard patted up and down his shirt, his waist, the inseams and outseams of his pants, around his rear, and down to his ankles. A pang of guilt brushed his chest as he thought of the Snow’s stem wedged deep in a crack in the cab’s wooden seat, but at least he was sure he wouldn’t be detained, and no animals would die for his carelessness. The pink elf stepped back and gestured to someone on the other side of the fence, obscured from Rorri’s sight. The black iron spears swung silently towards the manor, welcoming the foreigner to the noble grounds.

“Follow me, ser,” the guard mumbled, and the gate shut behind them with a delicate shhhink.

 

Pak

(Before the Incident)

 

I am a child—

BHUM BHUM BHUM BHUM BHUM

—ripped from my slumber.

I bolt upright and scramble to my feet, eyes wide and crusty with sleep. What is that beating on the door? Where am I…?

“Pak!”

I scratch at my face with clammy hands. My feet are freezing. Where did my shoes go? My eyes dart around the space, but I can’t comprehend what I’m seeing.

The door flies open. I flinch and squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for…

“Come,” says the voice, the white elf that brought me here. She starts down the hall. I have no time to think – make her wait while I find my shoes, or follow in my socks? She shrinks with every step. She hasn’t noticed I haven’t moved, but her steps are quick, and my legs are small. I cover my mouth to smother a whimper, and silently scamper behind her.

You are reading story The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) at novel35.com

She leads me down empty corridors, though sounds seep from behind the walls – shuffling, mumbling, echoing, noises I don’t understand or recognize. She stops before a door with a painting on its face, an arch with seven bands of color. Below the painting, the metal symbols read:

 

0 9 2 0

 

She ushers me in.

Bright white-flamed sconces flood the room in flickering light. The red carpet violates my eyes, setting me off balance. I keep my eyelids half-shut as she escorts me into one of eight bare wooden chairs. From the right side of the chair, a desk confines my front and hedges in my arm. She disappears through the rainbow door without saying goodbye.

I steal a shy glance up and around, finding only one other person here: a girl with choppy black hair and grayish skin, almost like mine, but it’s prettier and shimmery, without the green undertone that makes me look sick all the time.

“Pak,” comes a voice from the front of the room, a white elf man, staring with crossed arms. He speaks other words, but they garble before reaching my mind. He tries again. I don’t understand. I sit, trembling, surrounded. The air vibrates with rustling nose hairs, swooshing blood, gurgling stomachs and fluttering eyelids, all of the tiny sounds that make a body live…

I rock back and forth and search for pictures in the wood grain. I flap my little hands and lock up the sounds behind my throat. I blink and blink and blink and suck up tiny pockets of air and I try to disappear, I try so hard to disappear, but it never works…

I exist in this state for some time. Eventually, it ebbs and fades away. It always does.

 

*******

 

They bring me to the rainbow door every day.

The silver girl is called Lilia. She walks funny, like her legs aren’t the same size. The teacher passes out papers with pictures and symbols and makes us repeat their names. I learn to read quicker than her. The symbols are familiar to me, like the ones from Grandmother’s bedtime stories.

 

Today, the white elf woman brings me to class early. I draw while I wait. It’s quiet. I like drawing. The teacher pays me no mind. He isn’t very nice, but he isn’t mean, either. Lilia’s mother arrives with her in tow and helps her into her seat. She always sits right in front of me, in the chair closest to the door. A few minutes pass. The teacher gives us our worksheets, then takes his place behind his desk.

Lilia spins around.

“You have stars on your face,” she says.

I jump and look up. She rarely speaks, and when she does, her words bump and crash into each other, but this time, she speaks clearly, and I understand each word. She scans my face, her round, black eyes dancing across my cheeks. The teacher gives us a curious look. My pencil trembles. I look down at the paper before me, at the eight-pointed thing in the box, the symbols below it spelling out its name:

 

S T A R

You can find story with these keywords: The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet), Read The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet), The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) novel, The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) book, The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) story, The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) full, The Thief’s Folly (Book One of the Bloodlines Duet) Latest Chapter