Chapter 1

Greer

            The mid-morning light filtered just so through the wall of windows. Like it always does at this time of day. Unless there is rain, the view is pristine. The elegant buildings of Koaleeth blend seamlessly with the ancient trees, the walls of houses and businesses in perfect harmony with the natural elements around them.

            Koaleeth may not be the biggest city in the Forest Kingdom but it is certainly the most beautiful. It is known for it. That may explain why so few Kiphians leave once they settle here. The cool breezes, leaf-scented air and soft light are calming and reassuring and…

            Dull.

            I shake my head, trying to shake the negative thought. Or thoughts, I should say. They seem to be happening more and more lately. At first, I was able to dismiss them as being overworked–after some difficulty with the latest harvest–or worried–my mother is so frail–but now they happen unbidden and unasked with an alarming regularity.

            “You look distracted, my dear,” my mother says as I enter her suite. As usual, she lies in perfect repose, her lavish nightclothes shrouding her tiny body like a diaphanous cloud.

            “It’s nothing, mother. Just thinking about the harvest,” I say, sitting down next to her. As always, the light and view here were just as spectacular as the hallway that leads to her warren of rooms.

            I can’t remember the last time she left this place. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I saw my mother standing upright. She exists only here, on her long couch, a tray of ever present nibbles nearby.

            And yet, she never seems to gain any strength. Ever since my father’s sudden death, she has taken to her couch and can’t be persuaded to leave it.

            At first, I tried to change her mind, motivate her, dislodge the grief that took hold of her. But it was no use. She was never a strong woman but it was hard to see as my father provided strength and stability for both of them.

            With him gone, she seemed to lose her will. My daily visits brought her distraction and a connection to the outside world. But also a chance to ensure she kept on living.

            For what, I couldn’t say.

            “You work too hard, my love. You must learn to slow down. Don’t….” She trails off, clutching her handkerchief. My father is never far from her thoughts.

            “I will take care of myself, mother. I promise.”

            My to-do list is long. It never seems to get any shorter. Running the farms, both in the forest and beyond it in the clearings, as well as maintaining the houses I live in, my mother’s house and all the staff is a full-time job.

            One that I am suited for and one that bores me to tears.

            Not that I had any option. Or any other skills, for that matter.

            Again with that voice.

            “And how are things, dear? We still flush?”

            My mother, though she has never worked a day in her life, is obsessed with our wealth. It is unclear why that is so, but she worries that one day, in the blink of an eye, we will be made destitute. That our holdings, and savings will magically vanish.

            I am far too responsible to let that happen. She knows this but still she asks.

            “Still flush, dearest Mar,” I reply, invoking my pet name for her. Her given name is Marneta, and when I was young, I confused the word ‘mom’ for ‘Mar’–a name my father called her–and it had stuck ever since.

            She pats my hand, glad to have her daily worry assuaged.

            “Perhaps you need something to distract you. A hobby or some time away,” she suggests, before thinking better of it. “But not too much time. What would the estate do without you?”

            There’s my mother for you. Wishing me some rest and relaxation but not really because then she would worry. How could I possibly relax anyway with that hanging over my head?

            I don’t resent her, exactly, but I do find these daily talks tiring. Lately, even more so.

            And boring. Did you forget about being bored?

            That too. Something else that has been creeping more and more into my daily life. Each time I wake up in this utopia, these beautiful surroundings that people would kill to live in, I just feel a sense of deflating boredom and…sameness.

            “When are you going to settle down? You are the last one in the family, you know.”

            As if I didn’t know that. As if I wasn’t reminded each and every day about how my sister has been married and had children, moving to the other side of the kingdom many years ago now. Not to mention all the cousins and nephews and nieces and…

            I am the last one standing.

            As usual, the question jolts me out of my reverie. And, as usual, I have no answer.

            “It’s not that I don’t want to-” I begin.

            “She’s out there,” my mother says, making it sound more like a fact than a wish.

            Truth is, she isn’t out there. At least not that I have found. The population of Koaleeth is fairly stagnant. The rich Kiphians that live here rarely leave. The newest ones to arrive usually come in the form of infants.

            Once in a while new Kiphians arrive, causing a ripple among the elite social circles in which my family revolves, but those arrivals have become quite rare. And never has anyone arrived that gave me the slightest amount of curiosity or interest.

            To be blunt: there is no one in Koaleeth that I could possibly imagine living with, let alone giving myself to for the rest of my life.

            The feeling is bleak, indeed.

            I look over at my mother and to my relief, she has drifted off into her usual afternoon doze.

            Leaning over, I pluck the small cookie from her hand and place it on the small plate that sits on a side table and I step carefully from the room.

            I walk through the same sun-lit hallway once more, leaving my mother’s house. Emptiness overtakes negative thoughts. Or perhaps they enhance them. 

It’s hard to tell which is which, any longer.