Five Years a Sailing

                                                                      * Five years ago *

I dashed around the ballroom corner, Edmund right behind. My bare feet scraped the carpet as he inched ever closer. “Come on! Just get tagged already!”

“Not a chance!” I shouted back, barely dodging a nearby maid. Her plates shattered as I ran past. Crap… Father was going to rip a new one in me for that. My ears shuddered in fear.

Servants scurried around us. Their hands carried about dishes and decorations, sweeping and dusting any spec of dust or grime they spotted, including our newly created catastrophes. Father had everyone working overtime for Edmund’s thirteenth birthday. The normally quiet halls now had people all over, the perfect obstacles to avoid during tag.

Sunlight shimmered in through the grand windows as we ran. The servants chatted lightly, laughter and cheers following our footsteps as Edmund stayed right on my heel, the nerve of him!

I flipped around the corner, bouncing off a nearby wall and up the stairs as Edmund voiced his complaints. He was always very vocal about those. “Cheater!”

“Stay mad!” I flashed him a grin. “Catch me if you can, slowpoke.”

“I'll show you who's a slowpoke.” he leaped up the stairs two at a time, those annoyingly long legs of his resembling a rabbit.

My eyes darted around the upstairs hall. For all my confidence, I had somehow found myself remarkably trapped with no exit in sight. I didn’t want to be it! Edmund would always jump up somewhere high and kick rocks down at me. Granted, I’m the one who gave him that brilliant idea by employing the same tactic.

At last, my salvation became clear. Edmund landed down on the wooden floor. His momentum shoved him forward, dashing forward like a warhorse. What a fool my brother was.

“See you never!” I shouted, diving onto the nearest railing. It curved round and round as I descended—a carousel of smooth wood. Dizziness started to overtake my thoughts. “Hold…” I muttered. Just staying fixed to the smooth wooden spiral was straining enough, with every nearby wall looking like a potential crash zone. “Hold on, Clair!” I screamed to myself.

SLAM

My body flung itself through the air like a ragdoll upon the railing’s end. Amidst my swirling vision, Edmund recklessly descended the stairs two at a time. Coward.

“Clair,” From a nearby closet I heard a familiar whisper. “In here.”

“Emma?” She had hidden herself away in a nearby broom closet, a small sliver of her frilly dress barely visible between the small crack separating the smooth wood. Between the crevices, I could just see her bright green eyes shine bright like emeralds, radiant and more beautiful than the greatest of gemstones.

Without a second to waste, I leaped around the corner, straight into the closet. Better to hide away than deal with Edmund any day.

“You think he saw?” She whispered, a look of concern plastered on her face.

“That lumbering oaf? No way!” Edmund cared about two things in life: swinging his sword and running to wherever swords needed to be swung. Something like object permanence was a bit out of his reach at this stage of life.

We hid in silence for what felt like hours. In the dark, it can get so hard to keep track of time. There’s no sun, moon, or even the stars to light your way around the shadows. Spending even a day without seeing the sun would make me shrivel up inside. Thank the Ringers I’ll never have to do such a thing.

“There you are!” Without warning, Edmund burst down the door, cornering us. Dang it. With nowhere to go, I sighed as his hand reached around and tapped me on the shoulder. “You’re it, Clair!”

“Really? I had no idea.” My eyes rolled without me giving a second thought to it. “Tag is just such a complicated game; thanks for letting me know.”

“Anytime.” He smiled, any semblance of sarcasm going miles above his head.

As we walked out, however, a familiar figure stood just beyond the doorway—arms crossed. Father wore one of his usual black suits, with a red tassel adorning the golden pads on his shoulder. His brown eyes started disapprovingly down at us. Granted, that in particular was to be expected. I could see the last few maids that’d been lingering around escape just past the guest quarters down the hall.

“Edmund, we need to talk.”

“But Father—”

“Edmund! Have your ears suffered any damage, or are you choosing to interrupt me?” He stayed silent this time. Smart choice. “Good, now follow me. For you two, don’t expect your brother to be back for some time. This is an important discussion we will be having.”

And with that, they both marched off. Neither of us dared to say a word. With Edmund’s daily sword practice, Father never bothered to lay a hand on him; better to never miss a day.

Neither Emma nor I practiced swordplay.

Minutes passed before either of us spoke. Father had always been stern with his words, to say the least, but with Edmund, there was always a more casual touch to it, like someone speaking to their child. Whatever Father wanted to speak about clearly blew away any need for that facade.

“Do you think Edmund will be ok?” I finally spoke, only once I was confident Father was out of earshot.

Emma bit her lip, silence emanating from the room before she gave a nod. “Yeah. Sir. Charles is never that mean to Edmund. There's not much to worry about.” She knelt, wrapping me in a tight embrace. She was just a year younger than Edmund but always felt so much closer to the adults than either of us. Why couldn't I be like her!

“Anyway!” She let me breathe. “Don't you worry, once Edmund and Sir. Charles get done talking about their boring politics, we can mess around with those new fancy toys I got last Christmas. We can dress the day away without worrying about what future plans Father must be blabbing about.”

“Really?” She never let me touch her stuff, never. How was it my fault that all her things were so much more interesting than the cheap hand me downs Father tossed in my closet.

“Really! Come on, those toys won't play with themselves!”

                                                                                  * * *

Emma always had a saying, “Time is a fickle beast. It slows to a crawl wherever anything boring goes on, yet never fails to speed itself up wherever we dare to have fun.” What a stupid concept.

And so, our little toy show came and went. Emma tried on ball gowns and frilly dresses, while she showed me more stuffed animals than I had ever seen in my life. Before I’d even gotten into the swing of things Alfie had already poked his head in informing us dinner was ready.

Father sat at the head of the table, as normal, with the three of us shoved to the other end. Once I had asked why Father insisted on putting us three so far away from him. All it resulted in was forcing us to shout wherever he had something to say. It wasn't until I got a little older that I finally understood. To Father, sitting next to him wasn't a right, but rather a privilege.

Edmund’s face showcased a number of emotions as he glanced towards his place, not exactly unique for him, yet where normally he would look annoyed at most, today there was an air of anger.

And fear.

“Hey Edmund, what did Father talk to you about?” I muttered. Edmund was usually more than happy to spill every word Father spoke, no matter how private they were supposed to be.

Yet, today was not a normal day. Instead of anything resembling a response he just continued to stare at his food. Seconds passed, then minutes. Edmund continued to stare, not taking a single bite. I shot a concerned glance at Emma. “ Hey Edmund, you there?” She asked, waving her hand in front of his face.

“Shut it!” He shouted out of nowhere. “Who do you think you are speaking to me like that, sister?”

She backed away, eyes wide. Edmund had always had a temper, sure, but sister? Edmund liked to push our buttons. It had been that way since the day I was born, but there was a big difference between his normal taunting and… this.

“Hey seriously, what happened?” I whispered. Amidst our fighting, Father gave a small smile. Just that simple change sent shivers down my spine.

Again, Edmund continued to ignore me. “Hello? Anyone home?”

“Listen,” Emma’s voice grew stern. “Just because you suddenly woke up on the wrong side of the bed doesn't mean we had anything to do with it! If you have something to say Edmund, we’re both here for you.”

“Listen, you want me to listen!” Edmund burst into a fit of laughter. “You’re one to talk, always trying to act like an adult who's all holier than thou. Shut it!”

“Hey…”

“Don’t hey me Emma! You have no idea how annoying it is to hear you ramble on about how you do this and that and can help me. What if I don’t need any help? I never asked for you to get involved in anything. All you’re good for is a pawn dad can sell off once we grow older. Stop acting like your life has any other purpose than that. You don’t have to spend your life learning the sword. You don't have to actually work. All dad wants from you is to sit there and look pretty and you can't even do that without being the most annoying person on the planet. So, for the first time in your life, could you please do me the honor of shutting up!”

He stormed off after that in a fit of rage. How was I supposed to react to that… Edmund was a spoiled brat, but that was on another level even for him. I sat there in my chair, stunned. I hadn’t been the recipient of his trade but his words still shook me.

“Well well, that was a fine show of passion!” Father finally spoke. “You two, remember to get everything prepared tonight. Edmund’s birthday is a chance to spread the name of Galinding far and wide, and anyone who dares to try to mess that up will no longer have any relation to this household; staff and children alike.” 

He stood up, leaving through the same door Edmund had slammed shut just seconds ago. “Hurry along now, the maidservants need time to clean.”

I couldn’t move. Emma clenched her fists—face white as snow. She breathed in, letting the stress pile up, before releasing every bit of tension from her skin. “Well, the past is the past. Come on Clair, let’s give the servants some time to do their jobs.”

She lifted me up, my body going along with her every move. Against the jumbled mess of thoughts coursing through my brain, one question remained.

What had Father told Edmund?”