"Raoul, I swear, if you don't give me back my book within the next three seconds, I'll pound your head to a pulp!"

Raoul's green eyes flickered as he held my book above my head. "And how are you going to do that?" he laughed.

The snide remark that came to the tongue stayed put. While I would have no qualms telling Raoul what I thought of his actions in private, saying what I wanted to with my parents beside me would result in washing my tongue with soap for a least a month.

Which isn't fun.

One of the books I had read mentioned "pity looks" before, and then was as good a time as any to try it out.

"Mom, Raoul won't give me back my book," I whined. Laughed threated to destroy any bit of seriousness left drawn across my face. With a great swallow which felt as if a rib had been shoved to my toes, the creeping grin vanished.

Mom barely glanced at Raoul, who had decided to wave the book around in the air again. "Okay, first, the 'puppy dog eyes' you're trying is a little on the creepy side."

Hey!

I dropped the pity look and settled for a glare in my mother's direction.

Way to kill the pride, Mom.

"And second, Raoul, give your sister her book back before I carry out her threat then give you to your father."

I glanced at the sleeping form of my father, whose head rested on Mom's shoulder. He breathed in quiet, even breaths, peaceful for the first time in months.

Which meant waking him up would result in an all-out war.

Raoul's eyes widened. Something flew across the seats and landed in my lap with the force of a small explosion. The green-covered book sprawled across my legs, pages bent, cover mangled, and spine stretched so far it could have snapped.

I picked up the book at closed it gently, making sure the spine wasn't messed up. Thinning he was invisible, Raoul stuck his tongue out."Thanks a lot, Raoul," I hissed. "You want to ruin it some more?"

My foot met his. Quickly.

And hard.

Ignoring the soundless yelps of pain from my left, I smoothed the pages out and opened it to the first page. Scrawled across the off-white paper was a three-year old's hardly legible handwriting. The letters shook and shuddered, with sharp curves and silly slidings. The name--somehow--brought up sparks of life--energy--in my fingers.

Eris Alicia. There are times I wonder what I sister would be like to have. I wish I could remember you.

A girl two years my elder, never seen but always spoken of. No memories of another girl would ever flicker through my mind. She'd never be able to speak, never play, never fight over a book with me. She may not have even liked books. That was the thing--no one knew. All left of her was a knowledge of a sickness no doctor could cure--nothing else.

At least, for me.

Everyone but me remembered Eris, or knew as much of her as her four years wandering the earth would allow. They just wouldn't talk about her. She was the sibling who existed, yet didn't.

"Clair?"

I jumped slightly and turned my head. Raoul smiled so the corners of his mouth barely flicked up, his eyes aimed at my fingers that touched the letters.

"What part are you at?" he asked. The smallest twinge of sadness fell underneath his words.

He saw the name. He remembered.

All left for me was to pretend she had never crossed my mind. "Um..." I opened the book and started to flip through the pages, then stopped at the center and pointed. "Here. When the sixth chime goes off."

Confusion crossed Raoul's face. I cocked my head and pushed a stray curl from my eyes. "What's wrong?"

"What book is this?"

"Uh, it's called Eleven Chimes, last I looked. It's fairly old, so you may not know it."

"Oh." Raoul smiled. It almost could have passed for real. "I have no idea why I thought it was something else for a minute there."

I raised my eyebrows. "It must be that brotherly instinct of having to be right all the time taking over."

Before Raoul could reply, the carriage was jolted so hard that we must have hit a rock. Or an animal.

Or fallen down a very non-lethal but tall cliff.

"Good grief, what was that?" The words, while loud, weren't incredibly understandable, as my lips, nose, and left cheek pressed up against the window so hard the glass should have cracked. Cold air nipped at the skin against panel, bit at it to the point it peeled back from the spot once my weight shifted.

Nothing wrong.

The trees still went by, no one had been lying on the ground bleeding from where we came from, so that was a plus.

'Kay then.

Before I tore myself away from the window, something caught my eye. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Raoul," I whispered, nudging my brother. "Look out the window."

"What now?" he sighed.

"Just look, idiot."

With an eyeball roll worthy of an award for not having his head fall off as it happened, my brother glanced in the way he was told.

Two seconds later, we both shouted.

Because we had finally reached the castle.

Thank goodness this ride is almost done!

"Who just yelled?"

Shoot.

My father, whose eyes were still closed, but he was definitely not asleep, crossed his arms as a reminder not to wake him resurfaced.

"Raoul did."

At the same time, my brother thrust his arm out to poke me in the stomach. "Clair did."

****

Thank goodness we're here. If I stayed in that carriage any longer, I'd have gone insane.

My back popped as I stretched. Thoughts of running around with my arms up, shouting "yes!" and trying to flip like some circus people, jumped to my head, neither of which was acted out.

Now, where to?

The castle was big someone could explore for years on end. Two weeks would never be enough time to look around.

Two weeks to hide from people. It was time to be as un-social as possible.

My foot hit the stone floor, sending an echo through the wide hallway. An evil thought came to my head, and with a grin, I smashed my other foot on the ground, faster. Soon, I was tap-dancing back and forth, listening to the echo get louder and louder.

"Clair!"

I jumped and whirled around to face my father. His eyes were wide, mouth in a thin line, arms crossed. Everything about his stance told me to quit what I was doing and quit it now.

"Come here!"

And the echo's done for. So much for that.

I bit my lip and trudged over to Dad. "Yes, Dad?"

There was no way he didn't notice the aggravation in that answer.

He took a deep breath, and for the first time, I noticed how tightly his fists were clenched. My gaze traveled up to his shoulders, where they barely tensed up.

I'm only noticing this because he told me he doesn't like castles.

A slow puff of air sounded from above me. All tension in his body vanished in less than a second. He grabbed one of the bags my mother brought and thrust out his arm.

"Take that to your mother, okay? Then you can look around."

His voice was no more than a whisper that time, fat distant from the harsh snap it was at first. I nodded and took the bag from his outstretched hand. The burlap material scratched my palm slightly as I started to walk toward Mom, who was closing in rapidly on the door that entered the actual castle.

"Mom!" I cried.

She turned around quickly and stopped. "Yes?"

The bag bumped against my legs as I ran to catch up to her. When I reached her, breathing felt like it was avoiding me. "This is yours," I huffed. I held out my hand, still holding the bag. "Dad told me to bring it to you."

Mom tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Clair."

I turned to the side and took one long, slow step away. " 'Kay, then! I'm off to go--"

With a snatch on my arm which nearly ripped it off, my mother had me right back next to her.

Oh, come on!

Silent laughter shook my Mom's shoulders. "Why don't you come with me, Clair? I'm going to see if I can find your Uncle."

"How about I don't and we just say I did?"

The fact that my mother's grip grew tighter said that the suggestion wasn't going to work.

"Mom, please!" Panic started to build up in my chest. "I'll see them tonight at dinner anyway. Can't I just go read? What about Raoul? He can do this instead!"

My mother stopped, hand at the deep brown door. She sighed. "Raoul is getting our rooms together. Your books are with you father because he has your bag. Just come with me."

I shook my head frantically. "People, Mom!"

She just raised an eyebrow.

"Please," I whispered.

"Sorry, Clair." My mother ran her free hand over my head, then pushed the door. It opened with a loud creak that seemed like it could be heard throughout the whole castle.

When I was younger, going into the main hall was an entrance into a fairytale. That time was no different.

The gray, stone walls were mostly covered with scarlet curtains hanging from a pole. The curtains were long enough to barely touch the ground. Every few feet, there was a window that let the sunlight--or moonlight--hit the cream-colored floor, which in return, made the floor look like it sparkled. Where there was no window and no curtain, an oil lamp hung from the wall.

It always changes but never gets any less beautiful.

I followed my mother down the slick marble floor, trying my best to not make a noise as my foot hit the ground. The tiles under my feet were so clean that my reflection shown up to grimace at me.

I stepped wrong, and my foot slipped out from under me. I gasped, heart racing at the scare.

"Be careful," Mom laughed. "They must have just cleaned the floor."

No kidding.

Wait a minute. Clean, slick floor.

And I have socks on.

Before I could be told otherwise, I kicked off my shoes and ran to the other side of the hall. I slid to a stop and touched the stone wall gently.

This'll be fun.

And I ran.

I took off as fast as I could go, and when I reached the center of the hallway, quit running, letting my socked feet keep my motion going.

"Woohoo!"

I laughed, joy bubbling up inside me. "You're right, Mom! Coming with you was a great idea!"

I ran by my mother again, barely catching the amused look on her face.

"Clair, you might want to stop before you run into someone or something."

I paused before running again, my foot anchored against the wall I first started at.

Eh, I'll be fine.

I launched herself from the wall, letting my hair fly behind me. Just as I started to run, the door on the other end of the hallway opened, and a dark-haired man appeared.

Shoot.

I stopped running, but it caused me to skid. I can't stop!

A screech escaped my mouth. The man who entered the hallway stiffened, bracing for impact.

And I ran directly into him, knocking him down.

The wind in my chest left in one quick gust, leaving me gasping for breath. I closed my eyes, rolled off the man below me, and tried to breathe.

"Are you alright?"

Heat rose to my cheeks as I heard my mother's laughing voice. Here's the "I told you so."

I opened her eyes and saw no one in front of me. Instead, my mother was bent down beside the man I ran into.

Or skidded into.

Love you too, Mom.

A low chuckle came from the man on the ground. "I'm fine. I haven't taken a hit like that in a few years, but I'm fine."

"Clair," my mother gestured for me to come over. I did, and found a nice place to hide--I mean stand--behind her.

"Clair, this is Kir."

Ok, so?

Obviously, my face said the exact thing I was thinking because Mom rolled her eyes. "Let me rephrase. This is the king, Kir."

"Kir" as in King Kir? As in the one who rules the kingdom, Kir?

Oh my gosh, I am so dead.

The man on the floor smiled at me. He pushed a gray piece of hair from his eyes, which twinkled in amusement.

I stood, sure my face was redder than ever before. I stared at the man--the king--who still sat on the floor from where I hit him.

He smiled and held out his hand. "Hello, Clair. Long time, no see."

______________________________________

How embarrassing.

That would absolutely be me, though.