every year they spent together. There were a great many rings.
The eldest son stayed at home for years and used his sword for dueling. He was good at dueling and made quite a lot of money. With his savings he decided to take a sea voyage and he took his sword with him, hoping he might learn as he traveled and improve his skills. He studied with the crew of the ship and would practice on the deck when the winds were calm but one day he was disarmed too close to the rail. His sword fell into the sea and sank to the bottom, impaling itself into coral and sand. It is there still.
The middle child, the only daughter, kept her sword in a glass case in her library. She claimed it was decorative, a memory of her father who had been a great sword smith, and that she never used it. This was not true. She often took it from its resting place when she was alone, late at night, and practiced with it. Her brother had taught her some dueling but she had never used this particular sword for duels. She kept it polished, she knew every inch, every scratch. Her fingers itched for it when it was not nearby. The feel of it in her hand was so familiar that she carried the sword with her into her dreams.
One night she fell asleep in her chair by the fire in the library. Though the sword rested in its case on the shelf nearby she held it in her hand when she began to dream.
In her dream she walked through a forest. The branches of the trees were heavy with cherry blossoms, hung with lanterns, and stacked with books.
As she walked she felt many eyes watching her but she could not see anyone. Blossoms floated around her like snow.
She reached a spot where a large tree had been cut down to a stump. The stump was surrounded by candles and piled with books and atop the books there was a beehive, honey dripping from it and falling over the books and the stump of the tree though there were no bees to be seen.
There was only a large owl, perched atop the beehive. A white-and-brown owl wearing a golden crown. Its feathers ruffled as the sword smith’s daughter approached.
“You have come to kill me,” the Owl King said.
“I have?” the sword smith’s daughter asked.
“They find a way to kill me, always. They have found me here, even in dreams.”
“Who?” the sword smith’s daughter asked, but the Owl King did not answer her question.
“A new king will come to take my place. Go ahead. It is your purpose.”
The sword smith’s daughter had no wish to kill the owl but it seemed she was meant to. She did not understand but this was a dream and such things make sense in dreams.
The daughter of the sword smith cut off the Owl King’s head. One swift, well-practiced swing sliced through feather and bone.
The owl’s crown fell from its severed head, clattering to the ground near her feet.
The sword smith’s daughter reached down to retrieve the crown but it disintegrated beneath her fingers leaving naught but golden dust.
Then she woke, still in the chair by the fire in her library.
On the shelf where the sword had been there was a white-and-brown owl perched on the empty case.
The owl remained with her for the rest of her days.
ZACHARY EZRA RAWLINS sits frozen in the darkness. He can hear the Vivaldi though he cannot remember if it had been playing the entire time under the conversation and the tea. There is a scraping sound that is likely Allegra pushing her chair back. Zachary keeps waiting for his eyes to adjust but they don’t, the darkness is thick and solid like something pulled over his eyes.
That sound was definitely the click of a door opening and he guesses Allegra has abandoned him, leaving him stuck tied to his chair but another sound follows, something hitting the other end of the table hard enough that it reverberates all the way down to the other side, and the sound of something falling to the floor and a teacup breaking.
Then footsteps, coming closer.
Zachary tries to hold his breath and fails.
The footsteps stop next to his chair and someone whispers in his ear.
“You didn’t think I’d let her talk you to death, did you, Ezra?”
“What is going—” Zachary starts to ask but Mirabel