Kyra Blackrein's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Kyra Blackrein could name every horse in her family's stables by the sound of its breathing. That skill would soon become a weapon. But this morning she only wanted to finish breakfast before her mother asked about the binding text hidden in her lap. The long banquet table held more food than three people could eat. Bread, roasted fowl, bowls of dark fruit. A maid set down a heavy tray of eggs, curtsied, and slipped out. Steam rose from the kettle. Sunlight crossed the carved runners and the metal vessels her family had polished for generations. Her father sat at the head, straight-backed even at rest. Lord Aldren Blackrein cut his food into precise squares. He wore his cavalry coat to breakfast, as he had every day Kyra could remember. Duty first, comfort never. "You're reading at the table again," he said, not looking up. Kyra closed the book on binding theory. "Studies. You told me to take my lessons seriously." “Your studies are one thing.” He set down his knife. “Understanding death is part of your education. Dwelling on it is not.” Her mother watched from across the table. Lady Helena Blackrein missed nothing. She had grey threaded through her dark hair and lines earned from years of reading rooms and people. She poured tea without spilling a drop. "Let her study," Helena said. "A daughter of this house should understand more than one kind of power." Her eyes moved to Kyra. "But not at the cost of the horses. Sable threw a shoe yesterday. Did you see to it?" "This morning," Kyra said. "She's been reshod. I'll ride her to the tower." Aldren's face softened at the horse's name. He knew each animal by temper, gentle with even the difficult ones. "Good. The tutor at the tower expects punctuality. Don't shame the name arriving late." Kyra suspected her teacher would first have to remember they had a lesson scheduled before there could be any offense taken at her lateness. "I won't." Helena refilled Kyra's cup. "What does your teacher have you binding this week?" "Ash and iron. Small constructs." Kyra turned the pendant at her throat, an iron bit worn smooth. "Anchoring memory to objects. It's harder than reanimation. You have to know the thing you're binding." "And do you?" Helena asked. The question sounded light. It was not. "I'm learning," Kyra said. Aldren rose and straightened his coat. "Ride well. Come home before dark." He rested a broad hand on Kyra's shoulder, brief and firm, the closest he came to affection. Then he left for the stables he loved more than the manor. Kyra finished her tea and rose. She bent to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Try to learn something useful,” Helena said. Kyra smiled. “I usually do.” The house stood secure around her. The stables stood full. Her future waited, expected and certain, the way it always had. She gathered her book and went to find Sable and her lessons. She did not look back at the table or the tall windows facing the stable yard where the day would break everything.