The Chrysalis Key, page 12
Aiden snorted.
“I think it was a formal gown,” Melanie corrected. “I wonder what’s going on back home. Somebody’s noticed we’re missing by now, surely.”
“How are we even supposed to get back home?” asked Hugh.
“This is getting really complicated,” said Aiden, throwing himself back on the bed. “There’s a lot to it, I think. More than we realise.”
“Well, that guy Amos seems keen to help us,” said Hugh. “Him or someone else will tell us. They seem to know a lot.”
“Right,” said Melanie, lying down at the end of Henry’s bed. “I could go a nap.”
“Jet lag,” Hugh mumbled tiredly. “Portal lag?” he asked to no one in particular.
“Dimension lag,” came Aiden’s soft voice, but Hugh, Henry, and Melanie were already snoring.
15
Julia
As Julia felt Melanie’s fingers slip from hers, cold tendrils of panic swept through her. Bodies pushed and pulled at her, and like an aggressive ocean rip, she had no choice but to be pulled along with it.
Children wailed, adults screamed the names of loved ones, and the crowd continued to surge forward with the unending strength awarded to them by their own terror.
And then Julia saw the source of their fear, and her heart shuddered to a stop.
In front of a gallows where the body of man hung like an obtuse message, soldiers dressed in short, red coats holding long spears streamed in from all sides. They bore hard faces with bold eyes filled with the grim determination of men who held ultimate authority. Panic shot through her. She needed to get out of the mob, but foreign bodies pressed in on her like a wall of moving metal. A woman beside her, a wide-eyed baby in arm, clutched her husband as he dragged an older child along the tide. “Quickly!” she cried.
As the distance between Julia and the others from Breakfast Creek grew, so did the gaping pit in her belly. How would she find them in this mess? From what she could make out of the city, it was a large one. Above the crowd of people, perhaps a kilometre away on a sloping hill, she could see a giant, grey stone building. It was framed with towering turrets and vibrant flags. The whole thing was enclosed behind the largest brick gate she’d ever seen. And marching through it was another large company of red-coated soldiers.
Henry’s odd display had triggered this reaction. She knew that meant that these people had seen something like that before, and it wasn’t allowed. Perhaps that even meant they persecuted people who came here from other places. People like her. Anyone who saw her would look at her clothes and instantly know she was different. Instinctively, she knew that, should these men see her, she would be in great danger. They would ask her questions. Questions she would not know how to answer.
These thoughts ran through her mind in a matter of seconds. Although the crowd was swarming towards the castle, she noticed that the majority of people were escaping through narrow laneways and side passageways on either side of the street. If she continued to swept down the main street, it would lead her straight into the path of the soldiers.
So, she made a snap decision. She spied a group of teenage girls heading down the next side street. She pushed herself between two young men, who parted with an irritated grunt and stumbled into the smaller street. But not being used to the cobblestoned ground, her ballet flat tripped on a ridge of flagstone, and she fell face first into the ground. The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion.
The unexpected movement and the cry she let out as she hit the stones caught the eye of a tall guard on the far side of the street. Between her and the guard swarmed the rapidly dissipating crowd of people. From the ground, Julia’s frantic, blue eyes met his cold, calculating ones. She watched as he took in her foreign clothes and immediately let out a shout, jabbing his spear into the air to draw his comrades her way.
Julia scrambled to her feet, a flash of bronze turned her attention back to the side street. A girl with a long blonde braid rushed into the alley at a sprint. Upon seeing Julia getting to her feet, she came to an abrupt halt. She looked Julia up and down then cast her eye over her shoulder to the soldiers. Suddenly she grabbed Julia’s elbow and helped haul her to her feet.
“Run, you fool!” she hissed, pulling Julia forward, leading them both into a run.
Together they scrambled down the alley until a deep shout behind them made the girl release Julia’s arm. She sprinted ahead, calling, “Come on!” over her shoulder.
Silently thanking her years of dance training, Julia easily kept up with the girl’s sprint as they swerved left and right, ducked under drying sheets, and jumped over wooden objects that had been overturned by people escaping before them.
Julia vaguely wondered if following this girl was a good idea, but the thought was quickly dropped from her mind when the girl shouted, “Watch out!” and Julia hastily jumped over a fallen wooden bench before following the stranger into a passage hidden behind a bed sheet. There was no way she would have been able to find her way around here without help. She had no choice but to follow.
In the shadow of the dark alley, the girl slowed down to a jog and glanced back down the way they had come. Julia glanced behind as well. With no imminent threat behind them, they both slowed to a walk.
“I think we’ve lost them,” the blonde said, her voice high and clear. She glanced back at Julia and came to a halt at the end of the dark passage. This end was also covered by another dark bedsheet. She lifted the corner of the sheet and peeked left and right. Julia could make out a wide, brightly lit street lined with white-washed houses.
She let the sheet fall back into place and turned to appraise Julia. Taking in her appearance, she gave Julia a long look. Julia was used to girls looking at her like this. It was a quick up and down and side to side that was usually followed by an envious downward turn of the lips or an appreciative widening of the eyes. It didn’t usually bother her most days. In fact, it was more likely to encourage her, if anything. She had a face that was meant to be admired, what was the point of having it otherwise?
“Thanks for that,” Julia said, rubbing her bare arms. “Back there. I think I’d be in big trouble if you hadn’t.”
The girl chewed on her lip, staring at Julia’s flared jeans and white lace blouse. Julia noticed the girl was wearing a long, dirt-coloured skirt and matching top, and she wondered if the girl had seen jeans before.
“We don’t often get strangers here,” the girl said slowly.
Julia decided that she probably had not, indeed, seen jeans before. The thought made her feel extremely uncomfortable. She wanted to get out from behind this sheet and leave this place. She needed to get home. She had dance rehearsal tomorrow and the gown fitting tonight. Her mother would have a seizure if she missed either of those, let alone both.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” the girl asked. “The reds will be doing house checks soon. Looking for the sorcerer.”
Julia had to stop herself from scoffing. Did she mean Henry? Little, wide-eyed Henry couldn’t be any sorcerer. But her mind drifted to the way Principal Eversong’s body had just flown back and ended up with him looking like a ragdoll on the floor of the school hall. And the fact that there was a man with no face that was potentially hunting for Henry and that stupid key. If only she’d not landed herself detention today, none of this would be happening. She would have found Teddy and he would’ve kept her safe. But she thought it a bad idea to tell this girl any of that since she could hardly believe it herself. She hoped the others had found somewhere to hide. Somewhere that was not too far away. But how would she find them? And house checks?
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” said Julia, panic rising up in her again. “What do I do?”
Something in Julia’s face must have settled the girl’s mind, because after a moment, she smiled, showing her white teeth. “Come and stay with us, my family will hide you until it’s safe.”
She turned, and Julia let out a sigh of relief. Her mother always said that good looks landed you the best of luck. “Thank you so much,” she said gratefully. “I honestly thought I was done for.”
The girl waved her thanks away and peeked from out behind the sheet once again. “Okay, let’s go quickly.”
They darted down the bright street, which was completely and eerily vacant. She heard a door slam in the distance; it seemed that everyone had made it back to their houses and were keen to stay there, away from the red soldiers with the spears, away from the gallows in the middle of the street. Julia shook her unease away. She would be safe with this girl and her family.
The girl stopped in front of a blue-painted door and knocked once, sharply. There was a flicker in the lace curtain at the side window before the door was hurriedly pulled open and a middle-aged, brown-haired man with weathered skin pulled the girl in by the shoulder. The girl reached out to grab Julia’s hand just in time before someone else slammed the door shut behind them.
The cottage was large and airy. There were comfortable chairs on the left and a spacious kitchen to the right. The floors were polished wood, and a young man and an older woman stood inside. The older woman pulled the girl into her arms, her face screwed up in worry.
“Oh, Lacey, I was so worried! Your father said there was a riot!”
“Mother, I’m okay,” the girl, Lacey, said in a muffled voice.
The two men in the room frowned when they saw Julia. The younger one, in his early twenties, looked her up and down. Julia suddenly became very conscious of her appearance. She eyed the men warily in return.
“Lacey, who’s this?” The older man’s voice was a hairsbreadth away from open hostility. Julia took an unconscious step backwards as Lacey disentangled herself from her mother.
“Father, she was caught in the riot. I helped her get out,” Lacey replied lightly.
Lacey’s father stepped forward, his face reddening. “So you’ll be getting on your way now?” he gestured towards the street outside.
Julia panicked. If she went back outside, she would be found by the soldiers straight away. “I… got separated from my friends,” she said quickly, looking at Lacey, eyes pleading. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening.”
“They’ll be after any strangers!” her father exclaimed to Lacey, gesturing rudely at Julia. “If they don’t find who it was, they’ll begin searching the houses!”
Years later, Julia would look back upon this moment in her life and wonder what she missed. How she could have overlooked the tell-tale signs that a trap was being laid for her. How she had blindly trusted strangers with her life.
In this moment, a panicked Julia missed three things.
She missed the stony look that passed between Lacey and her older brother.
She missed the significant look that passed between the children and their parents.
And finally, she missed the hardened faces of a family whose hearts had been irreversibly calcified by a set of impossible circumstances.
“She can use the safehold father,” said Lacey calmly. “They won’t find her in there.”
“Good thinking, Lace,” said her brother.
“True,” said the father hesitantly, turning slowly to Julia, shrugging casually. “We have such a thing for situations like this.”
“Really?” asked Julia. Relief flooded through her as the tension in the room vanished instantly. “You’ll help me then?”
Lacey’s mother smiled so broadly at her, Julia could see almost all her teeth, and she wrung her hands on her blue apron. “Of course, dear, we can’t just leave you to wander the streets!”
Lacey’s father reminded Julia of her own father. Anger first, ask questions later. But unlike her own father, it was a good thing he could be reasoned with quickly, she thought. Emotion began to bubble up within her as she thought of home. If the people here didn’t like strangers, how on earth was she going to get help to get out of here? Lacey had helped her instinctually on the street and was now welcoming her into her home. Perhaps they’d help her after the risk of the soldiers was over?
Lacey’s mother insisted on feeding her before they hid her. They sat around a small table and ate sandwiches filled with some type of shaved meat while Lacey’s father periodically peered out the window.
Lacey recalled the events at the marketplace for her family. They asked Julia nothing, for which she was grateful. She and the others could hardly explain what had happened today to each other, let alone to strangers. If Henry’s strange sparkling caused mayhem in the street, how would they react to her having arrived through a door in a wall that’d led to the house of a man who killed a large number of small animals?
No, it was best to tell them as little as possible, and from the way they snuck looks at her clothes and gold necklace and bracelet, it seemed they suspected something as close to the truth as their reluctant minds could muster.
Once they had eaten, and Lacey’s mother, Mrs Blessingthwaite, she was told, took her aside and explained that they had a nice, little space off the corridor which, should anyone come by to look about, would be missed. She led Julia down the corridor where their bedrooms were, and she stopped at a skinny, rectangular door. It could pass for a storage cupboard, and sure enough, inside it was stocked with linen and towels and blankets.
Mrs Blessingthwaite reached beneath her collar and brought out a tiny key on a long cord.
“Only I have this key,” she said reassuringly, sliding it into a lock hidden beneath one of the shelves. There was a click, and she pushed at the shelf. The whole unit swung inward, revealing a brightly light space beyond. It was quite large, Julia realised in surprise. So large, in fact, she could not see any of its sides.
“Now dear, best you get in, the duke’s soldiers will be by any moment to search the house.”
It smelled like lavender, and the soft light made it look quite welcoming. Julia took a tentative step inside and smelled crisp, sweet air. Somehow that smell, along with Mrs Blessingthwaite’s pink cheeks and soothing voice, reassured her.
“I’ll come and get you when they’ve gone dear,” called Mrs Blessingthwaite brightly. She closed the door, and it clicked shut.
Julia stared in amazement at what was supposed to be a secret storage cupboard. The room was about four times the size of her large bedroom at home, and at its centre was a circular garden with the biggest apple tree she had ever seen.
This the third time today she had gone through a door only to find something unexpected on the other side. It was, in truth, starting to get a little annoying. Why couldn’t a door just be a door?
When Julia looked up, there was only a stark white sky. No sign of any light source or even any ceiling at all. She looked behind her, and sure enough the door was still there, brown and real, stuck into a white wall that continued far to her left and right. Julia took a deep breath and looked back at the tree, which seemed like the only thing in this place that made sense. Grey metal seating was wrapped around the base of its trunk. Julia jumped as she sensed movement from the far side of the bench.
Cautiously, and keeping her distance, she took a few steps to see what was on the other side of the broad tree. To her shock, a person—or what she could only assume was a person—sat on the bench behind the tree, covered head to toe in a white cloth veil. The figure turned in her seat.
“Hello,” came a soft, husky female voice.
Julia jumped and quickly recovered. “Hi?”
Why hadn’t Mrs Blessingthwaite told her someone else was in here?
The veiled woman stood, and Julia observed her with suspicion, taking a step back. Her face was covered in a type of lace dense enough that no features could be made through it, and the white, lined lace that covered the rest of her body was so loose, the woman could have been any shape or size and you would be none the wiser. Julia scratched her neck absently. It reminded her vaguely of an archaic wedding gown.
“My name is Sophia,” said the woman. Her voice was light and deep at the same time, feminine and delicate, gentle and soothing. And it comforted Julia in a disarming way.
“I’m Julia,” she replied tentatively. Her voice sounded harsh and scratchy in comparison. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat.
“What a lovely name,” the woman cooed.
Despite herself, Julia flushed at the compliment, and she took a step forward.
The veiled woman, Sophia, stood, and even through her coverings, Julia could see that she moved with a womanly grace she only attributed to old world Hollywood stars. Could you learn to move like that? She wondered. I need to learn how to do that. Julia had been trained to walk by the best pageant tutors her parents could find, and still she felt far inferior to this woman’s grace.
Sophia stood before her, seeming to regard her carefully. Unable to assess the woman’s face, Julia fidgeted self-consciously. Her mother would have been ashamed. She stood tall and raised her chin.
“Why are you in here?” Julia asked in what she hoped was a stronger voice.
“I am here for my own protection,” Sophia replied sadly. Julia felt a pang of vivid sorrow in her heart for the woman. There were soldiers outside, and Sophia definitely couldn’t go out there.
“Is that why you’re covered?” Julia asked carefully.
Sophia’s gloved hand moved to the trim of the veil that covered her face, and in a graceful sweep that made Julia’s breath catch, she whipped the veil over her head.
Julia had never seen a person like this before. Her hand flew to her chest, struck in a way she never had been before. All the beautiful things that existed in the world seemed to converge into a single point. Sophia’s eyes were like the most precious green gems found only in otherworldly caverns, her skin shone with the light that lit up the stars, and her lips were a colour of red that could only be found on a delicate rose.
Sophia was perfection incarnate. She could not be human, she was another being entirely, something more, something so great Julia’s mind could not comprehend it. Even the most accomplished poets would not be able capture her likeness accurately. They would not even desire to trap the description of her beauty using something so mundane as ink on paper. She was the type of woman people sung about, the type of woman whom kings fought over, the type of woman who could incite a war.
