Prologue

1780

The baby girl yawned, squirming and settling into the loose blankets she was wrapped in. From the bed, a red-eyed Sophia fluttered with life, although a deadness grew over her eyes, weighing the lids down. Alexius stared at her, dumbstruck frozen.

“Lord Alexius.” No reaction. “Frederick, your daughter.” Alexius recognized his arms moving and a small weight being put in them. His sea eyes fell to the small girl in his arms. Small, crystalline eyes wavered over the stern face before scrunching in another yawn and arms reached up for him. A sigh whispered from the bed – Alexius’ eyes snapped back to Sophia. The eyes were closed. The chest no longer rose. The rosy hue faded from the gleaming cheeks.

A wail rose from the baby girl as Sophia’s spirit fled the room. Both she and Alexius felt her physically depart. Alexius’ instinctual reaction was tears and gasping for breath, disbelief and incomprehension at the immense amount of loss overtaking him. As the spirit left, the faintest whisper touched Alexius ear.

“Your love for me is to be devoted to her.”

Alexius stumbled backwards and collapsed into the nearest sofa, still bewitched by the sight of Sophia’s lifeless shell of a body. That was not his wife lying there.

Celestine and Siobhan apprehensively kept Alexius in their sights, afraid for the child. They had thought this would happen, the shock of death should Sophia prove to be unable to survive the birth. They were skeptical about Alexius recovering from it, as his behavior towards her indicated the intense attachment between them.

The gurgling and crying of the infant brought eyes to her. Alexius was weak with sadness, yet his heartstrings tugged to obey his new daughter’s needs. The strong hand, the size of her body, lay gently on her, index finger brushing her chin. The motion calmed her initially, before her father’s emotions overwhelmed her happiness with his own depression and angst.

A gentle hand rested on Alexius’ shoulder, and Celestine sat next to him. Siobhan wiped her hands, tidying up Sophia as best she could and trying to keep her own tears at bay. Never had she experienced death before, and her mother’s own death was a shock; her actions were automatic, and her mind refused to answer to anything other than full emotional breakdown or numb, predictable actions that would allow the emotions to roll off in productivity.

“Keep your emotions from her, Frederick,” Celestine murmured. Her touch was comforting, but her touch also deflected the depressing emotions away from the baby. “She needs your strength, not your troubles. She already knows her mother is no more.”

“I can’t,” whimpered Alexius. “I cannot be strong. Sophia…Sophia is my life and how I survive from day to day, Celestine.” Celestine pried the baby girl from Alexius and soothed her, rocking her.

“You are managing coherent thoughts, Frederick, a positive sign,” she said. “I do not mean to sound harsh.”

“Give me my daughter back,” demanded Alexius, hotly. The protectiveness of his nature hit rapidly, knowing that this girl was all that remained of Sophia. Celestine cocked her head, giving him a look of curious worrying, before placing the little girl back in his arms. The sternness in his features returned and he clutched the girl to his chest, where she nestled to his warmth.

“What is her name?” asked Siobhan. Alexius abruptly rose and strode to the window, turning his back on the body in the bed. His nose breathed in the scent of the cleaned child; a hand stroked her head, remembering when Gabriel was born.

“Skylar Aingeal Alexius,” he murmured. The small hands clutched at his thin shirt, senses comforted by the rumble of his voice in his chest and the steady breathing, the thump…thump…thump of the heart. Celestine and Siobhan glanced at each other.

“I sense that you do not choose that name lightly,” Celestine said. Alexius was silent, staring out over the grey, mist-bound estate.

“Good morning, ladies,” he whispered. “Find a wet nurse before the morning is out.” Aching, he stepped wearily from the room, baby in his arms. He did not stop walking until he reached the Lavender Room, eyes glazed and system on auto-pilot, operating solely for his daughter.

He sank onto the bed, cradling Skylar. “Sophia,” he whimpered, “how am I supposed to raise a child on my own?” He choked up. “I…I don’t know how. I’m not a mother.” Gently laying the girl on the bed, he pulled off his shoes, followed by the stockings, then crawled under the blankets. Alexius tucked Skylar up against his chest, remembering what Sophia had done right after Gabriel was born. He was deathly afraid of suffocating the child, or squashing her tiny body, during the deep sleep he fully expected to fall into. Nevertheless, he curled around her protectively. Mourning tears streaked his face. Wet kisses littered Skylar’s head.

“Help me, my little angel,” he whispered. A small, tiny hand sleepily reached out and clamped on to his index finger as he stroked her nose.

The look on Siobhan’s face was enough to tell the small group of elders waiting in the room of what had happened. Nathaniel immediately went to check on Celestine while Percy scooted over on the couch to let Siobhan sit beside him, and he went through the motions of comforting her. His chest hurt from shock and despair. A thickness hung in the air; the act of death was done, final, unquestionable and acceptable for what it was. But that an immortal should die…it was incomprehensible. There was no adequate mourning, just uneasiness.

Gabriel, alabaster white, stared out the window, arms tightly folded across his chest. Edmund, sitting just behind him, drew himself out of his own shock to watch the young man. Gabriel wondered what his own father would do. Surely he would not banish those around him with threats and put the life of his newborn child at risk.

“Where is he?” asked Gabriel quietly.

“The Lavender Room, I think,” Siobhan replied. Gabriel began to leave and Edmund rose to follow.

“No,” said Gabriel. “I go alone. I am well enough for the moment.” He was not ready to see his mother yet, but he could at least check on his father and baby sibling.

“The baby is a girl,” Siobhan noted, guessing at what he was about to do. “Skylar Aingeal.” Gabriel swallowed, hand resting on the open door’s handle, then left.

“How much more hardship will there be?” asked Percy. He asked no one in particular.

“I do not mean to make light of her death, but she has been the only one amongst us,” Edmund said.

Percy snarled. “You did not know her half as well as I – do not make such statements as that without justification!” Edmund stared, as did Cyrus. Percy’s snap was unjustified, and though the two tried to put it in the context of him grieving, they found it difficult, especially Edmund, whose pride was hurt. Without another word he exited, the uneasiness mingling with anger and disbelief. He headed out into the mists of the early morning to try and dispel his emotions in the thick air.

Gabriel knocked on the bedroom door; his stomach was tight. He entered the room apprehensively, not sure what to expect. He was not sure if he was surprised or not to see his father curled up on the bed. Walking around the bed in the silence, Gabriel stared at the squirming baby. He sat down, clasping his hands. Alexius was fully asleep, arm wrapped protectively around the baby girl. Gabriel hesitantly reached forward, finger extended. The baby snatched it, fingers so small and squashable.

“Hello, little sister,” he murmured. “I’m Gabriel, your brother.” In the back of his mind was the question of what was being done about his mother, or whatever remained of his mother, but he was completely enchanted by his sister. She was so small and defenseless. Gabriel had never imagined anything could be so small and adorable. “I promise I’ll help protect you, honestly. We’re a big family now with Siobhan and Captain Percy and the others. I’m sure once they see you, they’ll love you too.” Skylar moved a little, testing her bounds and this new world, and she yawned heavily. “I wish you could have known our mother. She was wonderful. I’m sure you will have her beauty and goodness.” He hoped so. They needed goodness in this house, and a temperate personality to keep spirits calm.

However, such temperance was not going to happen soon, as Skylar erupted into wails. Gabriel jerked back in surprise, causing her to cry harder, and Alexius leapt into a sitting position, fiercely rubbing his face.

“What did you do?” he cried at Gabriel.

“Nothing!” Gabriel replied defensively and fearfully. His father looked horrid, with an ashen face. “She just started crying!” The two men stared at Skylar, Alexius a nervous wreck and Gabriel unsure. Neither had experience with bawling babies.

“Here, I’ll take her downstairs to Siobhan, she’ll know what to do,” Gabriel said. He snatched up Siobhan, trying not to be deafened by the screaming.

“Careful, Gabriel, careful!” squeaked Alexius, stumbling after her wildly. The two men were a sight indeed, Gabriel looking more like he was juggling the baby than knowing how to properly hold her while Alexius looked about to fall over himself. They barreled delicately into the sitting room, those present turning.

“Good grief!” Siobhan cried. She swept in, nimbly taking the crying baby. “That is no way to treat a newborn,” she chided them. “Celestine, come help me in the kitchen, please.” She cradled Skylar, softly cooing and humming. This was the noise of a hungry child. The two women trotted downstairs and gave her a bottle of warm milk, with Alexius anxiously watching over their shoulders.

And thus was Skylar’s traumatic entrance into the world.

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