19

T he air crackled with electricity from the energy exerted by all parties, but especially her. She heaved once more at the handle on the door before giving up and slamming her palms against the splintered glass. A stray shard slid into her hand and she hissed, shaking it out, and spun into the center of the room to address the walls.

“Who are they?” She croaked, her voice hoarse from years of silence.

She marched towards the stone pool with purpose and sat on the edge of it with a ‘hmph’. The sullen sadness that had once permeated from her was replaced with frustration and calculation, and a haughtiness that seldom appeared. The Manor buzzed with pleasure around her.

She focused for a moment on removing the sliver of glass from her hand before submerging it into the cool, glittering water. She surveyed the growth of the space around her and said to herself in wonderment, “ How long was I gone this time?”

She removed her hand and inspected the palm and, while there was still the faintest silver line to show that the skin had been opened, it was almost completely healed over. She growled in the back of her throat and looked up at the closest cluster of pillar candles.

“ I assume I’ve been forgiven then? ”

The group of candles flickered alive briefly in confirmation. She nodded absently and chewed the side of her cheek in thought. She moved breezily about the space, collecting the debris of shattered terracotta and clay, and coaxed the remaining plants gently from the surviving pots. She took a moment to dig her fingers into the damp earth of the garden bed and placed each one into the dirt, an apology present in the tender way she buried each set of roots.

She stood, brushing her hands against her skirts and cleared her throat.

“ You let them in. Am I to assume you want them here ?” She addressed the newly cultivated plants. Fresh leaves burst forward in response, vibrant and green from one of the flowers she had sent flying through the air toward the smaller man’s head.

“ Am I to play nice?” She asked, curiously. A flower that had been wilting rustled gently and perked its freshly invigorated face to the sun. Her eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

“ Will you play nice?” She waited, her keen gaze watchful for any sign. None appear.

“ I thought not, ” she sighed in response.

Her toes tapped on the stone floor for a moment as she puzzled out how to proceed, and then determinedly walked to the furthest back corner of the room. The opposite direction of the ornate glass door that led into the hallway where the men had retreated. It took a moment for her to uncover it but there, nestled between two large ferns, was the door to the back garden.