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Children were such a show sometimes, like a whole moving circus in a small human package. Scylla was wondering, was she as outspoken when she was ten herself? Just telling the adults all the stuff that goes on in a child’s chaotic brain and watching the puzzled expressions on people’s faces?
Sometimes Felix produced such lines that she couldn’t decide if he was a genius or if that slip from the stairs broke not only his neck, but his mind as well. She had heard that the first borns are usually the cleverest among all children in the family. Maybe it was just her good luck that now she was normal and didn’t clutch at Escell’s trousers, asking him, in a squeaky irritating voice,
“Why don’t you want to live together with papa? Will you leave us?”
Escell was in his office, sorting the fresh scrolls with some political stuff at the bookshelf. As he stood with his back to the door, he couldn’t see Felix sneaking up from behind, preparing to attack him with the question, which his young foolish brain couldn’t figure an answer to.
Scylla was holding back her irritation as much as she could. In her head, she imagined herself deploying an enormously long scroll and citing grandiosely the list of reasons of why she was irritated.
“Behold,” she told to an imaginary someone, “the list of why I hate this day.”
Reason one: It was autumn, and she hated autumn. It meant that the summer was over, and the warmth from the sun was gone. Now the sky was grey, and the clouds were grey.
Reason two: What’s worse, it was November. It meant that all beautiful leaves, that were the only bright colour outside, had already fallen from the trees. Now the ground was grey, too. All the surroundings were grey. And it was cold. Grey and cold, as Escell’s eyes. As her eyes as well. Felix’s were just grey, though, and deep down she was jealous and sorry. Jealous, because his eyes held the warm innocent spark her eyes lacked. Sorry, because very soon, that spark would most probably die out.
Reason three: It was cold, and the house hadn’t yet been warmed up by the fireplaces, lit in the morning. The residents of the mansion collectively put on the warmest socks and the heaviest shoes they had and which were still dignified enough to be worn at a place like this house, filled with riches. But Felix ignored the riches, ignored the dignity and ignored the shoes. Scylla had only managed to persuade him to put on his warm socks because there was a kitty embroidered on them, and the kitty looked a lot like Stella. And she did it without being asked to! By pure elder sister instinct! And while Felix was sitting on the carpet in his room, reading a fairy tale book with nice bright illustrations she brought him – again, without being asked to, by pure elder sister instinct! – him being without shoes was okay. But the brat ran away as soon as she got the littlest bit distracted with her thoughts!
Reason four: Instead of simply running away to the mausoleum or the kitchen as he usually did, Felix ran to Escell’s office. Entering Escell’s office without permission (and permission was normally received only when one of them was to be spoken to) was prohibited. Now, by pure elder sister instinct, she felt that they both would be spoken to about entering without permission and about Felix not having shoes, when it was Scylla’s elder sister’s duty to look after him while Florian’s away on business. Make sure that Felix wore his shoes and did not distract Escell. Did not ask him questions. How convenient it was, then, that she was already in Escell’s office.
Escell glanced shortly at Felix at his feet, and averted his eyes to Scylla. Felix, though, was still staring at him, keeping his fists clutched at the fabric of Escell’s trousers, waiting for a reply he would never get. Escell never answered questions, he asked them.
“Why is he here? I believe I had warned you that you are to keep an eye on your brother.”
Escell never answered questions, but Scylla and Felix were obliged to answer, when he asked them. It was easier to be polite and answer directly. Easier, and safer. Too bad Scylla was in a bad mood today, and when she was moody, it was so hard for her to stick to common sense.
“My brother also has a father. Felix wanted to talk to you and ran away,” she didn’t even care to smile apologetically when she snapped. She was tired.
Felix continued tugging at Escell’s trousers, “Dad, you won’t leave us?”
“Florian had already explained the matter to you both before he went on a trip,” Escell stopped piercing her with his eyes and instead looked at Felix, silencing him with this cold tone of his voice. Scylla’s heart trembled each time she heard Felix call Escell dad. She even remembered herself doing so, but that was many, many years ago. What a pure child Felix was, believing, that his father had ever-
“Seems that he was not satisfied with papa’s explanation. He wants you to help him understand, why-”
“I’m working, if you haven’t noticed,” Escell rebuked, and no matter how long Scylla would struggle to find a witty retort, there was nothing more powerful than Escell’s I’m workings. As if they asked him to, as if he was doing his children a favour in walking up the career ladder. He turned his unsettling stare to Felix, though she knew she gave her an indirect order. “Your sister will take you to your room. Go.”
Felix clutched at the fabric even more. “But you didn’t answer!” he pleaded, almost screamed, because his voice wavered at the brick of turning into a crying wail. Escell had always thought that using physical strength on his children would hurt his non-existent dignity, so it was Scylla who had to unstick Felix from Escell and carry him away, while Escell just stood there, hands by his sides, ignoring his crying son.
Escell didn’t even say anything about the absence of shoes on Felix’s feet.
If Scylla wasn’t so proud, she would cry too, but she had long ago promised herself not to shed a tear if this tear was caused by Escell. She was tired.
Felix was quite heavy already for her to carry him all the way to his room, so she soon had to put him on his own feet, making sure that Escell’s office was left behind. Felix clutched at her neck – poor child, for all that she had bullied him, he still clung to her – and for some time, she had to stand half-bend, before she managed to get her neck free and replace it with her hand in his sweaty ones instead. Scylla felt the wetness from tears and snot at her collarbone, where Felix hid his face.
He was sobbing and sniveling, but he kept silent. She decided not to press it, just wringed his hand and led him to his room. It’s better for him to have a good cry now – firstly, there were bigger storms coming, and it’s better to have all tears shed now, and secondly, Felix fell asleep soon after crying and woke up calmed down. That would give her a little rest. All that she should do boiled down to just laying him to bed and waking him up before dinner. Maybe she would manage to talk Withers into letting them walk in the labyrinth after the meal. By pure elder sister instinct, she started caressing the outer side of Felix’s hand with her thumb. She didn’t give it much thought at first, but by the time they reached Felix’s room, she noticed that the sobs quieted down.
Predictably, Felix was exhausted, and when she helped him into his bed, he fell asleep before she started reading the fairy tale he had stopped at in the morning. His tantrums never lasted long. It seemed that his little fragile body couldn’t manage to provide Escell with a good old child’s hysteria. That made Scylla a bit mad. The stinky man had never dealt with a naughty child in his life: Felix was too weak after that slip, and when Scylla was younger, neither Escell nor Florian knew how to deal with her and just let her do whatever she wanted to. She had no need for tantrums then, and she had no energy for them now. She was tired.
She was so tired, that she didn’t notice the moment when she fell asleep at the armchair at Felix’s bedside.
The rest of the day went the same way as each time Florian went on trips, although Scylla guessed this trip wasn’t a typical one. Escell mostly kept silent during dinner and supper, giving no more than orders to the servants. Felix seemed to cheer up after the after-cry nap and tugged at Scylla’s sleeve now and again, showing her a forest he made of broccoli, some unrecognizable monstrosity he bit out of a piece of bread and bubbles he blew into his cacao with a straw. He was at that stage in his life, when all drinks were consumed only with a help of a straw. Scylla had that stage too when she was his age, so when Escell got too deep into his thoughts about whatever work he did which Scylla gave no interest to, she - without being asked to, by pure elder sister instinct - showed Felix, how to make bigger bubbles by blowing into the straw slower and more accurately.
He didn’t ask Escell any more questions that day. He asked Scylla, though, right before it was time to go to bed and she finished reading him - without being asked to, by pure elder sister instinct - the fairy tale about Sister Alyonushka and brother Ivanushka. Florian brought that book from the other country he visited during some scientific university concilium on venomous plants, and Felix adored it, though they both couldn’t properly read the names of the characters and laughed each time Scylla tried to pronounce this -shka something without spitting out her tongue.
“Do you think Dad will leave us?” Felix asked her very quietly, while she was checking if the windows in his room were closed for the night. The stone walls didn’t get much warmer. She almost couldn’t hear him from under the blanket, under which he dived with his head, hiding from the pressure which now reigned in this house, but she knew he would ask her eventually, and waited for it.
“I think we will leave, Fe, not him. He will stay here, and Florian will take us away,” it was the first time she voiced her guesses to anyone. Not that there was anyone except Felix at home, though, but she even kept it a secret from her friends. From her girlfriend also, with which she broke up two weeks ago.
“But they are married,” came the wavering voice from the depth of the blanket. Scylla had long closed the windows, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself close to Felix now, when he started asking her. “Papa loves him. He smiles when they talk.”
That was a bittersweet smile on Florian’s lips Felix saw, but he couldn’t distinguish the difference yet.
“I… can’t explain that, Fe. They won’t get divorced, they just need to… have a break,” Scylla didn’t believe any word that she was saying. They sounded fake, she felt like a doll, reciting some phrases learnt by heart. She was tired. “But I’m sure we will go and see each other now and again. Do not worry too much. Papa will not allow bad things to happen to us.”
There was no answer, and Scylla couldn’t tell Felix anything more reassuring. She was tired.
She turned off the lights and put her hand on the door handle, when she heard:
“He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love you. I thought he at least likes Papa.”
With these words came the rustling of the bed linen, and she knew Felix turned his back to the door.
“Good night, Fe,” she mumbled and then left.
In her room, Scylla changed into her favourite silk white nightgown.
“He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love you. I thought he at least likes Papa,” – the squeaky, irritating voice of her brother repeated in her head.
She lay down in her bed and watched the flame of the candle at her bedside cabinet waver at her breathing. She was tired.
“He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love you,” it came again, more loudly this time, as if her own conscience was screaming to her, and she felt her stomach twist. The second point was no news. She was tired.
“He doesn’t love me”. Scylla felt rumbling of thunder in her chest. She was tired.
She was tired.
She was tired.
She was tired!
She was so damn tired of keeping her feelings and thought to herself and pretending that she didn’t care!
She woke up in one swift motion and rushed downstairs, bare feet slipping on deadly cold stone floor, goose bumps crawling up her naked skin, because her thin nightgown left her hands bare and didn’t protect her from the autumn cold air in the mansion. The familiar corridors felt like enemies that tried to press on her from the sides and quiet her down. The familiar office’s door, however, felt so fragile, that Scylla expected it to crash when she banged it open without knocking and without the permission to enter.
“Good night, Escell,” she smiled menacingly, almost psychic at her own recklessness. “You didn’t answer Felix’s question”.
Escell was still sitting at his desk, finishing up his work, and he was accurately closing a desk’s drawer when Scylla walked in. His desk was still covered with scrolls, writing feathers, books, boxes of various kinds-
“Sometimes I wonder if you are blind, Scylla, and thus can’t see that I’m working,” he retorted coldly. He didn’t even raise his eyes from the paper he was concentrated on.
She could only hiss in reply, because if she started screaming, it would be so loud that it would wake Felix up, and as an elder sister, she would have to make sure he is in his bed again.
“Sometimes I wonder if you are stupid and can’t form a yes or no answer to a child’s question. Will you leave us? Where will Papa, Felix and I go? Why don’t you tell us anything? Is it pleasant to you to watch how your child wanders in the darkness, because he doesn’t know what awaits him?”
There was one funny trait about Escell: when there was Felix in the room, he saw him first, and then noticed Scylla; when she was alone, he looked right through her, ignoring her, like she was made of glass, an invisible, unneeded, silent statue.
Such a pity it felt so pleasant not to be silent. Escell ignored her and her voice, but there were things that were harder to ignore.
With measured steps, Scylla crossed the room and came up to his table. Escell didn’t raise his eyes, and she snickered. There was a heavy inkbottle made of coloured glass of his table.
She put her hand beside it. Escell didn’t raise his eyes.
So then she moved the bottle slowly, and it made a disgusting scratching noise. Escell stopped writing and, without moving, watched her hand pushing the bottle closer and closer to the end of the desk.
In one swift motion, Scylla pushed the bottle over the edge, onto the floor. The glass broke with a loud thumb, and the ink scattered across the floor, the desk, the walls, the scrolls, the carpet-
He looked at her, and his eyes were deadly cold. Without any words, he dared her to go further and dig her own grave, and Scylla smirked.
She pushed a pile of scrolls on the floor, right where there was the big ink puddle.
The next second, she found her hands pinned to the table with force. She couldn’t move, but now she was able, and strong, and ready, and had stamina to take on any challenge Escell would shovel at her. Finally, the man got a child’s hysteria he deserved.
“You,” Escell hissed through his teeth, “will go with Florian, leave Porrima and live with him in another place. It’s sunny and warm there, so you will both like it. Your brother will stay here, go to the proper school, decent enough for the boy with his abilities to become the next Archmage.”
This is when Scylla froze in her place.
“You’re separating us,” she whispered. Her heart sank, as if it could sink any lower after the past few months.
“You will celebrate your birthday here, and then Florian will bring you to your new home. Now we are deciding, when he and you will be allowed to visit-”
Furiously, she searched with her eyes for anything on the desk that she could throw right at Escell’s face, and so she missed the tiredness in his eyes with which he looked at her. The photo of him and Florian fishing was lying in one of the drawers – there wasn’t enough space for it because of the amount of scrolls he had to proofread. Good that he had put it away just before Scylla rushed in and started behaving like a frenzied cat, kicking things off the table.
Escell released Scylla’s hands.
“Why didn’t I guess earlier”, she whispered to him, “how could I have forgotten that my birth was a mistake, a way for you to get to Papa’s family, while Felix’s birth was a way for you to continue reigning from the background, when it’ll be time for you to leave the post.”
She wanted to cry so bad, but she had long ago promised herself not to shed a tear if this tear was caused by Escell.
She was tired.
“You do not love me, with that, I’m content. You do not love Florian, that’s not my business. At least try to pretend that you love your son, before he grows up and sees that your soul is rotten.”
She looked him in the eyes, cold grey, as usual.
Then, she left, quietly closing the door behind her.
She felt painfully sorry for Felix – and satisfied with herself, although she didn’t won anything except making Escell lose his temper. This intermixture of emotions made a grin appear on her lips, and something wild jump behind her ribs. She walked the first twenty steps, and then she ran – through the wide long corridors, up and up the stairs, two steps at a time, right to Felix’s room, where small light crept from under the door frame. That little naughty brat, he was reading in bed again! For what purpose was she reading to him before ‘sleep’?
She opened the door and laughed in delight, “Aha!”
Felix shrieked and tried to hide the fairy tale book, but it was all too late.
“I was just going to sleep!” he tried to stand up, but before he managed to hide from Scylla under the blanket, she attacked him with tickling.
“What did Papa tell you about reading late at night?! You will get headache in the morning, who will I go to the park with then?” she smirked.
“We have lessons in the morning, and the last time we went to the park you made me eat dirt,” Felix giggled and tried to kick her hands off her, but she had fifteen years of practicing tickling, and he had only ten years of practicing protecting from tickling.
“It was soil, and you thought it was a chocolate bun! My elder sister instinct told me they are good for those who ruin their eyesight, reading in the darkness, when they should sleep.”
“Escell is reading at night too!” Felix retorted. “Why don’t you tell Papa about it instead of always complaining about me?”
“Tell him yourself when he comes back – ouch!”
Felix bit her to stop her tickling! That little piece of-
“And I will! About you being out of bed at night too!” Felix chortled, and Scylla couldn’t stop herself from snickering.
“Escell, you are cherishing a serpent in your bosom,” she thought.