A Promise Made

The silver moonlight illuminated the symmetrical, rigid houses and shops. It gave some dimension to the dull city scape of Gilon. Ristalia stood upon a wooden barrel, looking as regal as any wild haired nine year old girl in a smudged nightgown could.
“Guess what now, Ulric!” She said to a young boy-looking creature, “I’m taller than you.”
With a smirk, Ulric jumped agilely onto the barrel.
“Not anymore, Rissy.” He smiled again. Rissy crossed her arms and pouted. That made Ulric laugh. He sits down, his gangly tan legs hanging over the edge of the barrel. Rissy settled down next to him, and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I wish you weren’t a Greer, Uli.” She sighed in a soft, wistful passion. Ulric gave her a reassuring squeeze around her boney shoulders.
“Maybe, when we’re older, we could run away. And go somewhere far away from here, a place where nobody cares.” Said Ulric, thoughtful. Rissy’s mint green eyes brightened, and she clasped her hands.
“Really!? Oh, please, promise me we will!”
“I promise, Rissy. I really do.”
~
Ristalia’s thickly lashed eyes fluttered open. Her stomach felt knotted and nauseous. She gulped and worry crept into her expression. What an odd dream.
There was something wrong. She felt it. Her mind wandered back through time, to the times she spent with Ulric. It was wrong to talk to the Greers, the protectors of the cities and towns in the Great Forest Kingdom. Rissy knew that now.
But, something still felt wrong. Was it the dream? Was it what she ate at dinner last night? Rissy took a deep breath and crawled out of bed.
She took her time getting dressed and braiding her hair. She laced up the corset very loosely, and buttoned the cream-colored calico dress, slowly. Downstairs, she herd her parents conversing in low tones, and the clatter of pots emitted from the kitchen. And – something else . . . Something like breathing . . . Loud and ragged breathing . . .
Pat. Pat. Pat. Quick footsteps resonated through the hallway. The patter stopped at her door, and the handle turned, slowly and eerily. A little boy with white blonde hair sticking out at odd angles, wide mint green eyes, and silly dimples pranced in. He charged toward Rissy, and clung to her skirts.
“Jolly Lifeday, Rissy!” Penn sang, though, it came out, ‘Rithy’. Oddly, she had completely forgot that today she turned sixteen.
“Thank you, Penn.” She smiled, musing up his hair. Penn’s little hands flattened his hair down, a little pout on his lips.
“Hey!” He cried in protest. Rissy laughed a loud hee-haw.
“Mama told me to tell you that breakfast is ready.” Related Penn, lisping. He put his hand in Rissy’s, and motioned to go.
In the dining room, the table was covered with a white lace table cloth, with silver and fine porcelain plates and teacup s at each seat. Platters of decadent food were in the center of the table, filling the room with their delicious aroma.
Rissy sat down with Penn on her left-hand side. Her mother and father sat across. Mother was daintily cutting up a piece of ham.
“Well, Ristalia, how did you sleep?” Her mother asked. She always forgot to call her just Rissy.
Remembering her dream, Rissy shuddered. It’s been years since she has even thought of that moment. The night she and Ulric made the promise. She wondered, is he still alive? Does he still remember?
“Ristalia Evangeline! Answer the question!” Commanded Mother, sharply snapping Rissy out of her thoughts.
“Oh! Um . . . Fine, Mother. Just fine.” She stammered. She concentrated on her food. Though, hard she tried, Ulric creeped back into her thoughts. Speaking to a Greer was taboo. A taboo she broke eleven years ago.
“. . . And, the Queen elected a Greer-Light to her council! A hybrid abomination! To the Royal Lady’s Council! Unthinkable!” Her father cried in outrage. Rissy looked up from her plate. Her father had the paper open and his face was as red as a strawberry.
Greer-Lights, a half-Greer, half-human girl, was someone less than a beggar. They could see the Greers that protected the cities from the Night Monsters. Thousands of years ago, they were leaders, communicating with the Greers, making deals with them. Now, they are abominations and freaks. Remember this from her history lessons, Rissy says:
“Maybe the Queen wishes to speak with the Greers.”
“Now, why would the Queen want to do that? Greers can neither feel nor reason. Why waste the time?” Challenged her father.
“Who are you to question the Queen? And– how do you know what Greers can and cannot do?” Retorted Rissy, her usually placid temper bubbling. Father pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair. He clapped his hands together.
“Isn’t it someone’s Lifeday today?” Father said, changing the subject.
“It’s Rissy’s!” Exclaimed Penn. Father and Mother both nodded.
“Yes. Oh, and, Ristalia, Zoya left a note. She wants you to come over.” Said her mother.
~
She knocked on the heavy, white wood door of Zoya’s parents’ house. She stood outside, waiting for someone to get the door. Again, she hears the deep breathing. And feels hot air being blown on her neck.
The door opened, and a small girl, about eight, stood. She had dark eyes and thick hair that hung down to her waist. A Greer-Light.
“Hello. Is Miss Zoya in today?” Rissy asked politely. The little girl nodded, then ran away, leaving the door open. Rissy stepped in.
Zoya appeared after a couple of seconds, and enveloped Rissy in an enthusiastic hug.
“Jolly Lifeday! I’m so glad you came! We haven’t spoken in such a long time!” Chattered Zoya. The girls hooked arms and walked into the sitting room. Zoya plopped down on a cushioned sitting stool, and Rissy sat on the soft couch.
“So, Rissy, I have something very important to tell you!”
“Well, what is it?” Rissy leaned forward, eager to hear her friend’s secret.
“I am getting married! You are the first to know!” Zoya squealed. Rissy struggled to hide her shock.
“Oh, my! That is amazing!” Rissy smiled tightly. Zoya nodded, oblivious to her companion’s discomfort. Rissy was worried that Zoya’s new husband wouldn’t take kindly to her, and forbid Zoya from seeing her. Rissy’s own father has done that.
“Who is it? Does he live in Gilon?” Asked Rissy.
“Yes. It’s– Floralee! What are you doing in here?” Cried a frustrated Zoya. Rissy looked up and saw the little girl standing in the door way of the room.
“I see a Greer, Zoya. Right behind Miss Rissy.” Says the girl in an eery voice, pointing at Rissy. Her heart fell like a stone.
“That’s ridiculous! Greers only come out at night.” Chastised Zoya. The little girl left, after waving a goodbye.
“So, as I was saying– ”
“Zoya, I just remembered! I have to go home now.” Said Rissy, standing up.
“But, you just got here.” Protested Zoya.
“I know, and thank you. That is truly wonderful news.”
Rissy left the house. The door closed quietly behind her. She felt ill and dizzy. A Greer. A Greer standing behind her. Ulric? Why was everything today centered around him? Again, she remembered her dream. Perhaps . . . ? No.
She set off down the dusty cobblestone streets, towards the Gates. Nothing calmed her more than a long stroll through the woods. She loved the smell of decaying leaves and moist earth, the chirps of song birds and insects. She waved a Gates’ guard, signaling to let her through. He motioned to man in the Tower to open the Gates. They swung open, revealing the splendor of the forest.
Rissy ambled about, admiring the beauty of nature. Taking out a small sketch book and pencil, she began to draw a small purple flower that was growing up the side of a tree in vines. She was just half-way through the skinny green vine, when she hears a twig crack behind her.
Turning around, she sees noone, but, again, hears the heavy breathing. Then, whispering, as loud as she dared:
“Ulric?”
There was no answer. Rissy closed her book, then began to make her way back to Gilon. She looked about her, suspicious of anything that moved. The guards see her coming, and she quickens her pace to a light jog. Hears more snapping branches, and starts to run. She runs through the gates and runs through the streets, until she is at the front door of her house. She braces herself against the door, trying to catch her breath.
The sun was beginning to set. Soon, She thought, This day will be over. Rissy entered her home.
From the foyer, she could smell the cooking of lamb and vegetables. It made her stomach turn. She saw her mother speaking to a servant in the sitting room. Seeing her daughter, Mother motioned her in the room.
“Ristalia, where were you? We’ve been waiting.” Her mother asked, concern in her countenance.
“I just went for a walk, Mother. Oh, and Zoya is going to get married soon.”
“That’s wonderful! Who is it?” Mother clasped her hands together and smiled. Rissy’s jaw dropped.
“Uh . . . I forgot. Ask her.” Rissy started to go up the stairs to her room.
“It’s almost time for dinner.” Says her mother.
“I’m not very hungry, Mother. Frankly, I am quiet exhausted. I think I will go to bed.” Replies Rissy, continuing up the stairs.
Once, she was in her room, she slumped on the bed. She untied the brown satin ribbon and combed through her thick white blonde hair. Outside, the sun was barely visible behind the trees, the sky painted in breath-taking hues of oranges, reds, violets, and yellows. She closed her eyes. She felt so weary. For the first time that day, she felt at peace, although a tired peace, without the paranoia that has been haunting her since this morning.
She undressed and slipped on a simple white nightgown. Rissy pulled back the warm coverlet of her bed, and crawled in, covering most of her head.
~
A clatter awoke Rissy from her deep sleep. She rubbed her eyes. What was that? She got out of bed and walked over to the window. The wooden shutters were closed. Her parents must have came in to say good night.
Rissy cautiously opened them, they were known to creak, and peered down into the streets. What she saw made her gasp in fear.
Ulric. Ulric, standing below her window, peering up with such an wicked grin.
Rissy slammed the shutter closed. She runs to her dresser and grabs the knife she keeps in the compartments. Then, jumped back into bed, holding the knife ready.
Thump. Pat. Pat. Pat.
“Come on, Rissy. Let me in!”