Crown of Smoke

Chapter 14

        “Harry, Hayden, and I have known each other for a long time, but I’m a couple of years older than they are and I tended to be spun around the higher social circles by parents for most of my childhood,” Briar smirked to herself. “Or at least until they could stop me.”

            “So when did you actually get to know the boys?” Gwen asked, taking a sip from her tea.

            “Well, it was around four years ago, I think? I was eighteen and they were sixteen, still very gangly. They’ve actually filled out quite a bit, Harry especially, he was like a beanstalk! I remember seeing Hayden and my goodness, Gwen darling, you wouldn’t recognize him! His hair was as long as Harry’s and a total mess of curls. He had just started working at his father’s practice and I could tell he and Harry were already friends, huddled together in a corner near to the punch bowl and getting completely drunk without their parent's watchful eyes on them. I can’t remember whose party it was…maybe it was Milo’s actually, you’ve met him I think?”

            “I met him at Harry’s,” Gwen confirmed.

            “He and Harry are always on and off, Milo fancies him no matter how much he denies it. They try to act nonchalant but I’ve caught them sneaking off on multiple occasions, it is amusing to catch them off-guard. Hayden doesn’t approve, obviously.” Briar smiled to herself. “But anyway, I followed the boys into a game room. Hayden was being himself, spouting his revolutionary monologue to Harry and I told them I wanted in. They looked at me like I was mad.

            “All my life I had dressed in pretty dresses and been told I was insane for wanting anything different, but I knew the downfalls. Old men came up to me, even when I was as young as thirteen, asking me how much it would cost for a night with me and if they should be paying me or my father. Women up high are turned into objects. I learned how to play it for power, learning secrets in exchange for a dance in front of the lower lords. The king asked me to dance once. I was seventeen and he claimed the queen was unable to dance because of her pregnancy.

            He’s very tall, the king. I’m rather tall too, but he managed to make me feel as though he was towering above me not only in rank but in height as well. Maybe it was the way he stood, the way his back is straight as a plank and he never relaxed for even a moment. I think powerful men have that ability, to seem bigger than other people in the room because they believe that they’re gods who have deigned to walk among us. He took me right into the middle of the floor, twirling me around and around and whispering obscenities into my ear… compliments that transpired into threats. I remember the feel of his breath on my ear. It felt wet and unnatural, his face so close that his beard scratched at my cheek. His hands were holding my waist too tightly like he knew I’d run if I had the chance. It felt like he was cutting off my circulation, making my head feel lighter. I wanted to vomit but I managed to pull away and spent the rest of the evening hiding in the garden in tears before I was forced to put on a straight face, lift my chin up and go back inside. I blamed the redness on hay fever, not that many people came too close.”

            Briar went quiet for a moment, pouring herself a new cup of tea. The tea couldn’t have been warm anymore, but she took a shaky sip anyway. Gwen wanted to do something to comfort her, but she was unsure of what to say.

            “I never told my parents, they were too delighted our family had earned the king’s favor, but I had a hatred for him that made my blood boil. My parents' main concern in the world is keeping all of this. This house, our family legacy, and all that comes with it. I followed along not knowing any way of escaping.” Briar continued, her usually sunny demeanor replaced with a fire behind her eyes. Gwen took her hand and Briar smiled a little at her. “And then Hayden claimed he could find you.”

            “And the rest is history?” Gwen asked, making Briar laugh. She liked Briar’s laugh, it was light and delicate and it made her features rounder and more friendly. Briar patted Gwen’s hand.

            “I suppose it will be, hopefully.”

            Harry entered then. His eyes looked between the two girls, their arms touching on the back of the sofa, Briar’s still haunted expression. He sat opposite them in an armchair, pulling one of the books from the table into his lap, quietly keeping to himself. Hayden must have been proving to be bad company.

            They sat in silence for a while, content to simply be around other people. Gwen had her own reasons to sit and ponder, her imminent destiny that she couldn’t help but dread. She had begun to understand why she was needed now though, thanks to Briar. This was just a fraction of the problem, a small part in the machine propelling her forward in the fight. She wondered why Harry was on the team, whether it was simply because Hayden had dragged him along or if it was something deeper than that. They had a long history by the sounds of things, Briar had said that they had been close before she had ever joined their small team.

            “I know I’m stunning Gwen, but that staring thing you’re doing is a little unnerving.” Harrison smiled coyly at her, wiggling his eyebrows and making her chuckle. Briar rolled her eyes but the weight of the room had suddenly seemed lifted. Gwen leaned over to the pile of books Briar had gathered on the table and pulled one up for herself, not even bothering to read the title, just mindlessly flipping the pages and admiring some of the historical buildings from around Colvine.

            It wasn’t long before Hayden joined them, now back to his usual pristine look. Gwen glared at him as he strolled through the shelves until he found something that took his fancy, lacing himself on the floor next to Harry’s feet. He didn’t say anything but matched her glare when he found his eyes on him.

            “It’s rude to stare, Guinevere.” He spat, only making Gwen narrow her eyes even further at him.

            “What is going on with you, Gwen? You seem awfully fascinated with us tonight.” Harry sighed, obviously sensing the ice between her and Hayden and trying desperately to make it melt away. Harry leaned forward, his brows furrowing. Gwen couldn’t help it, she continued to stare at him, at his shoulders and the way they were muscled like a farmer. She couldn’t imagine him as the skinny little thing which Briar had spoken about, running around and following Hayden around.

            “I’m trying to imagine all of you younger,” Gwen admitted, shrugging her shoulders innocently.

            “I actually might have a portrait, if you’re interested,” Briar replied.

            “No.”

            “Hayden don’t be baby,” Briar replied to him as the direction of his scowl changed to aim at her. Gwen could tell Briar was trying not to laugh as she got up and went to a part of the library Gwen hadn’t noticed.

            “I forgot she has most of the bloody records of the noble families.” Harry chuckled.

            “Why does Briar’s family have them?” Gwen asked.

            “Her father is the kingdom’s most distinguished historian. He used to aid your family as well.” Hayden replied like he was annoyed at her for not knowing so obvious. Gwen avoided his gaze and tried to make herself look as though she was not bothered by him. “He keeps a lot of royal portraits, records and books from not only from Colvine but from all over. The only library more extensive than this is the one at the palace.”

            “Let’s just say it’s not an accident we came here for the next portion of your studies.” Harry grinned. Gwen met him with a look of exasperation but he winked and she was so surprised at the gesture that she couldn’t respond to it before Briar came over with four large volumes.

            Down the spine of each volume, there was golden lettering with the family names spelled out: HARDY, ASTERE, CLIFFE, and CAVENAIR. Gwen gasped and Hayden followed her eyes to where her last name was.

            “There really aren’t many pictures of you left but there would have been an official portrait or two done not long after your birth,” Briar explained gently. “We don’t have to open it now if you don’t want to though, I only really got the albums out to embarrass the boys anyway.”

            Briar reached over to the stack of books and opened her own volume first, skipping through until she found the last portrait in the book, her on her sixteenth birthday. She had her hair pulled back into a sleek bun on the top of her head and her dress was a pale pink color with excessive amounts of lace all over. Briar’s expression was somber, regal. Gwen imagined her at balls, trying to hide away from the attention that would inevitably land on her.

            “You’ve always been very pretty, Briar.” Gwen said to her as kindly as she could, but she could sense that it was the wrong thing to say as Briar hurriedly shut the book before the boys could even begin to take a look and picked up the ASTERE volume which held Harry’s portrait.

            Harrison Astere had grown up poorer than Briar had. His portrait didn’t have half of the adornments surrounding him and the colors were much duller, but Gwen could get still feel him coming off the page. He had been skinny, just like Briar had said. In the portrait, he was in a black suit with some golden embellishments, simple and much less colorful than what he wore now. His hair was much shorter, too. Blonde and straight falling in two curtains around his face.

            “That was as long as my parents would let me have it,” Harry said quietly to himself. His fingers ran over the painting, following each line of his face. His cheeks looked almost hollow compared to now, his jaw tight and round rather than wide and square as it was now. “Might I take a further look at this Briar?” He asked. Briar simply nodded and handed him the volume over. Gwen tried her hardest not to watch as he flipped back through the pages.

            “I suppose it’s time for mine now.” Hayden huffed as Briar giggled, pulling over the volume and again flipping through.

This picture was not only of Hayden. He was the only one out of them to have siblings and his parents had decided to kill three birds with one stone and have him and his siblings done in one painting. There were two boys, Hayden, and his older brother. They didn’t look much alike. His brother has a fuller and shorter build than Hayden. This had been painted when his brother was eighteen, according to the caption, and Hayden was fifteen. Hayden was already taller than his brother, his hair long just as Briar has described it but pulled back with a ribbon, just a few curls escaping and curling over his ears.

The other figure in the photo was a girl, her hair black like Hayden’s but straight, pulled over one shoulder elegantly even though she was only thirteen. It was on her face that Hayden’s eyes lingered.

“Not to burst your bubble, Guinevere, but she was the first girl I taught to dance,” he said. Gwen could hear the sadness in his voice and for half a second she let herself feel a little pity for him. She knew she was missing her own family. It was like an ache that never went away, only dulled until it burst open again like a fresh new pain. Hayden slowly took the volume from Briar’s hands and looking over it himself.

“I don’t know why they’re so interested in their family’s old portraits,” Briar whispered to Gwen, “I personally think all my older relatives look like pompous idiots.”

Gwen wanted to laugh, but her eyes sat on her own volume. Her true name, Cavenair, seeming to be staring right back at her, searing into her.

“You don’t have to look at it, you know. I just bought it over because I thought you might want to.” Briar tried to reassure Gwen, placing her hands on hers.

“She should look at it. She needs to.” Hayden pressed, his head shooting up and giving Briar a meaningful look. “How is she supposed to know who she is if she’s never even seen a portrait of herself?”

“Oh, maybe she could use that thing called a mirror, Hayden.” Briar sneered at Hayden. “Perhaps I could go and grab one so you can see how much of an i***t you are?”

Hayden’s mouth was left agape, speechless for the first time since he had met Gwen. Clearly, Briar had taken Gwen’s side, despite trying to put on a smile for appearance’s sake. Gwen felt a relief she couldn’t explain at having someone understand her.

“Thank you, Briar.” Gwen squeezed Briar’s hand. “But think I should look at my portrait. For myself,” she added seeing Briar’s expression, “not for anyone else.”

Briar nodded, taking a breath. Gwen could feel Hayden’s eyes on her, followed closely by Harrison’s as she slowly took a breath and opened the volume Briar placed on her lap. It was the biggest of the four, and she could feel the weight of it on her lap. The pages were thick and luxurious, each one lined with a golden border and the royal crest in the bottom center. Gwen flipped through the pages delicately, watching the kaleidoscope of her family history unfold before her eyes. This was different from a history book, Gwen realized. It felt so much more monumental than all the history books of family history that Hayden had shown her. Those could be found in a public library if she really wanted to, those were filled with information that was more important than the pictures, descriptions of their person and their rule, their significance.

The book on her lap was simply a picture album filled with their faces. In this one, being the royal one gallery book, there were not only portraits but pictures of the palace, of the ballrooms. There were marriage portraits, family portraits, war paintings of her great-great-grandfather on a jet-black horse holding a musket and in full uniform. Her eyes skimmed through them, trying to register them and failing most of the time. She began to recognize some of the faces, though. There was a picture of her grandmother on her wedding day, a pure white gown with a train that seemed to run for miles and miles behind her. Her mother in her youth, every few years documented until she turned nineteen and married her father. That was his first appearance, their wedding portrait. His hand rested on her shoulder, a sword sheathed at his side. Their expressions were serious, but the artist had somehow made them still seem warm towards one another. Gwen felt her heartbeat quickening as she realized that it was her own face that would be reflecting back at her when she turned the page.

She turned the page to see a portrait of a baby, little tufts of almost orange hair on her head. She was dressed in a gown of cream that engulfed her entire being, but she was smiled up at Gwen. Gwen’s breath caught in her throat as she saw her own brown eyes reflected back at her. She began to see where her features had begun to come from, her cheeks large and pink had changed as her face has elongated just a little, although it still remained a little round and her cheeks remained full. Her hair had darkened into the chestnut waves they were now, often untameable since they had grown from those gingery tufts. She laughed a little, a small pathetic noise as a tear she didn’t realize she had shed fell onto the page, leaving a mark on the baby version of her cheek. Briar’s hand reached over and squeezed her shoulder, and Gwen leaned into her, the comfort of her friend’s warm embrace a welcome feeling.

Gwen flipped the page once more and saw the baby and her parents together, probably the only picture of them together. She heard Hayden make a thoughtful noise. She knew what he was thinking, a sudden realization of the fact that perhaps she did resemble her parents more than he thought, her father definitely. Their hair was the same color, but the waves matched her mother’s, thick and long. Her parents were smiling in this one, bright and wide and full of love. It made her heartache that she had missed on this life. Her parents she had grown up with had been amazing and had adored her, there was no doubt in her mind about that, but it hurt her that apart from through these portraits she would have no connection to the king and queen who had loved their young princess.