The Thief and the Skull

~Eight - Photo Memories~

Amber followed Olive down the sun-kissed hallway, each step echoing the chaotic symphony playing out in her mind. The skeleton, the sheer impossibility of it, was too vivid to be a nightmare. Even if Olive had suggested it was. Was she losing her grip on reality? Perhaps this world is even more fantastical than she imagined.

Ordin was nowhere to be seen when they reached her bedroom. Amber had braced herself for his smug presence, the inevitable ‘I told you so, liar’ plastered across his face.

Olive, seemingly able to read her thoughts, paused in the doorway. “Ordin will meet us at breakfast…”

Amber crossed her arms, feigning indifference. “I don’t want to be anywhere near him…”

Olive chuckled, stepping aside to usher Amber through the door. “He’s not as bad as he comes across.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “You’re his sister. You have to say that.” She stepped into the room, Olive closing the door behind them. “But, so far, he’s been nothing but rude. I never stole to Amerist crown from him!”

Olive turned, her expression hardened. “You have to understand something.” She gestured towards a floor-length gown draped across the end of the bed. “The Amerist crown was once our father’s… and his father’s before and it was to be Ordin’s after our father’s passing. It’s a symbol of our family… However, one day, a hundred years ago, it vanished and the entire world changed. It was about,” she paused, tapping a finger to her lips in thought, “Roughly a century after I was born… give or take a day or two.”

Amber eyed the dress with hesitation. Dresses were far outside her comfort zone, especially one so extravagant. She perched beside it, taking a deep breath, and turned to Olive. “I honestly didn’t know…” Her brow furrowed as she retraced their conversation, a look of confusion dawning on her face. “Wait, you’re saying you were born a hundred years before the crown was stolen, and yet it was stolen a hundred years ago?”

Olive nodded, her braid swinging over her shoulder. “A hundred years ago… under a full moon.”

“B-but that…” Amber stammered, her lips pursing in disbelief, “That makes you two hundred years old…”

Olive offered a graceful bow. “I’m a one hundred years and eight months old… there’s still two months to go until my two hundredth birthday.”

Amber’s mind struggled to process the information. This was beyond belief. “That’s not possible…” she finally uttered. “You don’t look older than twenty…”

Olive smiled, a knowing glint in her eye. “It might not be possible where you come from, Amber,” she declared, picking up the stunning fawn-coloured dress and holding it against herself. The shimmering, off-the-shoulder garment was slimming at the waist. And would make her feel lavish guest rather than a prisoner. But Amber longed for her jeans and her father’s jacket, for the familiar comfort of her own world.

Olive swayed the dress from side to side, the silky fawn material rippling like liquid in her grasp. “But magic is here… We use it in our everyday lives… Ordin has his own kind of power, too. Maybe one day he will show you.”

Magic. The very notion seemed absurd, a relic of fairy tales and childish fantasies—stories Mrs. Zimmermann would have told Loralie. Yet, since her arrival in this strange land, Amber had witnessed inexplicable events that chipped away at her scepticism and defied logic. In her world, faucets didn’t turn on or baths didn’t drain without automated programming.

“We’ll see if he lets me out of this room long enough to show me,” she muttered, a hint of defiance lacing her voice.

“You’re under my watch, so he will,” Olive assured her, her confidence unwavering. Then she held the dress toward Amber. “Now try this on. I picked it for you. It’s like mine, but the material is silk, spun from my own silkworms.” She thrust it at Amber again. “Please try it.”

“Okay,” Amber agreed, her resistance waning. She took the dress and held out. Olive had downplayed the silkiness by miles. It was like nothing Amber had ever felt, a whisper against her skin.

Olive watched as Amber carried it into the bathroom, then called after her. “You could have changed here. I would have turned around…”

Amber shivered. The thought of being observed while she changed, even by sweet Olive, made her uncomfortable.

“It’s okay,” she replied, choosing her words carefully. Shy wasn’t the right word, but she clung to it. “I’m just very… conservative…”

“I understand,” Olive replied, her tone gentle.

It wasn’t long before Amber emerged, the silk dress clinging to her like a second skin. Like magic, it fitted to her body, the threads contouring to her figure. Maybe it’s magic…

“Is this right? I mean, I’ll wear it, but it’s not what I usually wear.” Her eyes darted around, desperately searching for the familiar comfort of her father’s worn jacket. “Have you seen the clothes I came here in?”

Olive nodded. “Yes, the maid has taken them to be cleaned and repaired.”

“What?!” Amber gasped, panic rising in her throat. “I need it…” Her hands instinctively patted her chest, searching for the precious cargo she always carried. “I need my jacket, there’s a photograph in it… It’s the only one I have!”

“Photograph?” Olive asked, tilting her head curiously. “What it that?”

“Right,” Amber mumbled, her heart aching at the prospect of never seeing the figures from her past. “It’s like a painting, a portrait,” she explained, shaping a rectangle with her fingers, “but about this big, and it was in the chest pocket of my jacket.”

“Ah, I see.” Olive’s eyes sparkled with understanding. She moved with grace over to the bedside table, pulled open the draw she had removed the clothes from last night, and rummaged through it. “This draw uses earthly magic to connect to each room within the mansion. If you require something, then it should appear, as the clothes did last night. The maid would have removed the photograph before she cleaned your jacket and placed it in the draw in the laundry.” She retrieved the picture and held it out to Amber, who breathed a sigh of relief. “Is this it?”

“Yes!” Amber almost cried as she took the photo and held it to her chest. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost this.”

Olive’s bright gaze softened. “Who is it?” She asked, her eyes drawn to the image. “Who is that little girl?”

“That’s…” she hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. She carefully folded the picture and tucked it into the breast of the dress, next to her heart. “That’s Loralie and Lionel… people I used to know… people who are no longer with us…”

Something in Amber’s eyes made Olive’s smile waver. “I’m sorry… losing a loved one is never easy.” She murmured, her voice soft with compassion. She turned towards the door, beckoning Amber to follow. “Maybe we should eat… the food here—”

“Is magical?” Amber finished for her, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Olive laughed, and it was the sweetest sound Amber had ever heard. “Yes, exactly…”

They headed down the corridor; the silence broken only by the soft rustle of their clothing. They passed the rumpus room, its haunting memory sending shivers down Amber’s spine. More bronzed beast lead the way, before the entrance opened up. They stopped at a heavy oak door to the right of the staircase.

“Let’s go eat,” Olive sang as she pushed the doors open, revealing a dining room dominated by a vast, circular table carved with expert fingers to resemble a tree trunk.

The mouthwatering scent of fresh bacon and fried eggs filled her sinuses and made her stomach growl. Sunlight strained through stained-glass windows depicting scenes of the same beast that were bronzed in the corridor, painting the room in hues of gold, brown, and grey.

Ordin, his dark hair haphazardly brushed back, was already seated in the farthest chair, a dark metal fork halfway to his mouth.

He paused, his eyes flicking up as Amber entered.

Amber’s throat tightened under his scrutiny. Was he weary of the thief, or annoyed that she had crashed his breakfast? She didn’t know.

Before Amber could move, Olive swept into the room.

“Amber! Come, sit beside me.” She reached for Amber’s arm, then recoiled, remembering the reaction Amber had given her when they first met. She gestured to the vacant chair beside her. “Please, sit…”

“Ordin, you didn’t even acknowledge our guest!” she chided him playfully.

“Guest?” Ordin lowered his fork, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, before vanishing. “I was merely admiring Amber’s… dress,” his voice was deep, his expression unreadable.

It wasn’t a compliment, exactly, but it wasn’t an insult either. This was not what she had expected. A prickle of unease ran down her spine.

Olive, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, chirped, “Isn’t it charming? I chose it myself! I think the colour is fetching on her.”

Ordin’s gaze didn’t waver. He was still studying Amber, his dark eyes assessing.

He finally looked up, meeting her gaze. “Indeed, and I thought she might have stolen it.”

“Stolen it!” Amber held her breath, unsure if she could stop the sarcasm before it erupted. “Oh, that’s right, I stole it from the skeleton I saw last night. Are you impressed?” She placed her hands on her hips, the fawn fabric of the dress swaying. “Is it so hard to believe that Olive would lend it to me?”

Ordin blinked, his brow wrinkling in irritation. “You did steal the Amerist crown, and thieves are unpredictable.”

Surprise was an understatement. Maybe Ordin understood sarcasm more than she realised. Amber’s face flushed, her words stuck to her tongue, but she forced them out. “I’m not a thief! Not in this world!”

Ordin leaned over his plate, the fork still in his hand, and pinned her to the spot with his gaze. “But you are in your world?” The statement sounded like an accusation disguised as a question.

Amber opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t. He didn’t trust her now. How much worse would it become if she told him the truth?

“Ordin! Leave her be,” Olive said, stepping between them. She placed a gentle hand on her brother’s arm. “Amber, you look lovely. That colour suits you.” She turned her attention back to Ordin. “Come on, brother. I need your help in the office. Remember?” She gave him a pointed look—a clear silent message to drop the subject.

“I’m not hungry anyway,” Ordin, still annoyed, a scowl embedded in his forehead, dropped his fork and allowed himself to be steered away.

At the doorway, Olive gave Amber a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry. Breakfast shouldn’t be too far away. I’ll be back shortly.” She then followed her brother, leaving Amber to stew in her frustration, but at least spared from further interrogation.

“Some lord…” Amber huffed, crossing her arms. Once they were out of sight, she released the coil of anger she’d been holding tight. She slumped into the chair, her teeth grinding, and fought back the tears that threatened to spill. “All I want is to fix Lucile and return home.”

“Morning deary,” a kind voice sang, drawing Amber’s attention to a door at the end of the room.

The woman standing there could have been Goose’s older sister. She wore a simple linen dress, covered by a stained apron. Her hair was pulled back tight, revealing the same defined cheekbones Amber recognised so well.

“Goose?” Amber blurted out before she could stop herself.

The woman smiled, her eyes radiating warmth and kindness. “Yes, Goose… or Anya, as I prefer, is my daughter…”

She entered the room, carrying a tray, and noticed Ordin’s half-eaten meal still on the table. “That boy never eats a proper meal these days… not since…” she trailed off, realizing Amber was present. She continued towards Amber, placing the tray on the table before her. “Here you go, dear. This should bring some colour to your cheeks.

“Your Goose and Cricket’s mother?” She asked as she watched her clean Ordin’s place setting. “Are they okay?”

The maid turned and blinked at her. “Yes, deary, why wouldn’t they be?”

“It’s just…” Amber said, fidgeting in her seat. It turned out the skeleton haunting the mansion was just a product of her imagination. She cleared her throat. “They ran away last night, and I didn’t get to thank them.”

“Oh,” the maid waved her hand dismissively. “They know I expect them home before the moon rises, and if they don’t obey… well…” she winked at Amber, “I have a wooden spoon that has never seen misbehaving rear ends, but it’s still a constant reminder to be on time.”

“Oh,” Amber relaxed into her seat, but the idea of a wooden spoon as a discipline technique sent shivers down her spine.

“Don’t worry,” the maid added as she headed back towards the door. “My children have spoken highly of you since you came to our world.” She peered back at Amber, her hands full of dishes. “They will be around after their chores…”

“Thank you,” Amber said, calling after the maid. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Heti,” she called back. “Heti Maud, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Amber, from the other world.”