The d'Alabanza house

My first glimpse of the house is like something out of a dream. The white stone gleams against the sky, windows glittering like diamonds in the sun. Trees frame the building like curtains on a stage, and a cold breeze blows up from the river beyond.

Suddenly, I'm sixteen again. It's 1881, long before the rebellion, and I barely know how enough Karolevan to speak to the people here, let alone be their queen. Natalia d'Alabanza's probably out swimming in the river, and Madame d'Alabanza's about to find her and have a fit. That's how they were when I first met them: Natalia soaked head to toe in nothing but her chemise and pantalettes; her mother fretting and yelling like a mad woman about indecency and freezing to death. If I walk in through the house doors, I'll see servants preparing it for tonight's party, cleaning the parlor until it shines. The guests will be here soon just as the sun starts to set, nobles of varying importance come to talk and dance the night away. Mendoza will be among them, with his sweetheart Miss Elsie Barrett. She'll of course invite a friend or two of her's, no doubt Ilsa Petrovna, who in turn will bring her brother Frederik, who will pretend he's only going to look out for his younger sister but in reality will have been hoping all week for an excuse to go. He'll stand near the staircase for the first dance or two—he always does—until he decides he's made his point, then will ask one of the few girls not already dancing to join him on the floor. I'll spend those first few dances in a chair near the window, far enough away from the stairs so as not to be obvious, but close enough that when he looks for a partner I'll be the closest one he sees. We'll dance for hours in that room, until time seems to melt away, and we're the only things left in existence. For one fleetingly eternal moment, it will be just the two of us, the music, and the glittering possibility of what we could become.

But that moment has already passed. It isn't 1881, and I'm far from sixteen. Madame d'Alabanza has been dead for almost twenty-four years, and Natalia hasn't returned to Karoleva since. The house isn't white as I originally saw it, but rather a dirty grey, thin layers of dust and ash covering the old stone. Grimy windows stare down at us, and the paint on the front door is starting to peel off piece by piece. The grass and the trees are overgrown, the cobblestones in the courtyard cracked and teeming with weeds. No sign of life comes from the house, but rather it stands as cold and dead as the master and guests who used to walk its halls.

What light does break through illuminates the room with an eerie glow, reflecting off old, dusty sheets that cover the furniture. Peeling wallpaper surrounds us on all sides, it's design reflecting the style of an bygone time. Mama walks first to the small staircase, running a hand lightly over the railing, a far away look in her eye. I give Charlotte a meaningful look, then let go of her arm and step into the parlor curiously.

” She’s been going on like this for the past hour, her words moving at a pace that my classroom Karolevan has trouble picking up. Not that I would find the bits I can understand all that interesting, it’s just idle, meaningless court gossip. The card game holds my wh

My eyes trail across the chairs we’d uncovered earlier, lingering on the faded, outdated rose damask that Madame d’Alabanza had been so fond of. Yes, this was the same room from my memories, but time had destroyed it beyond repair. Just as it had done to the girl I had been, the dreams we’d crafted in this room, ages and ages ago.

"The old d'Alabanza house," Mama speaks up suddenly, her voice solemnly thoughtful. "I stayed there once when I was a girl, but it's been vacant for years, even before the rebellion. It was a very secluded place, I remember. On the eastern bank of the Dvina."

"It would still be there then," I continue for her, picking up on her meaning. The southeastern branch of the Dvina River was too wide for the fire to jump, making it one of the only parts of the city untouched by the destruction. Not that I would consider it 'part of the city,' it was so far on the outskirts that very few bothered settle there. "And we wouldn't have to worry about being seen, chances are it's practically deserted." Mama nods, and I turn to look back at Justin.

"It wouldn't be hard to secure, and it isn't nearly as predictable as going to the Romovna. Plus, it's a much better plan than wandering around out here for infinity. Unless you have some other idea?"

I nod quietly, taking a second to recall the exact location. The last time I was there was decades ago, just before Natalia d'Alabanza left Karoleva for good. It takes me a moment or so to conjure up directions in my mind, having to get a quick bearing on where exactly we are in the city.

"Keep heading towards the palace until we cross the next bridge. Then we should follow the river south just past the city's edge. If we keep our heads down and hurry, we'll make it before the morning's up."

I glance back at my daughter for a minute, the concept that she truly doesn’t know dawning on me for the first time. But of course, how could she? It’s not like I’ve ever brought it up, and Frederik and I weren’t really ones for reminiscing. Time is a funny thing, there was once a day when every noble in St. Romovna knew who owned this house.

“The d’Alabanza family,” I respond after a second, “though they left decades ago. Monsieur d’Alabanza was our ambassador to the Karolevan court.” I pause for a second, that sentence feeling strange to me. “Coustellet’s ambassador, I mean, before I married your father.” *‘Our ambassador,’* doesn’t quite fit. It’s been a very long time since I’ve considered anything from Coustellet to be something of mine. “His wife was a dear friend of my mother’s, I was told they spent most of their childhood alongside one another.”

My explanation pauses there for a minute, as I glance back towards the hall. The call of a good cup of tea is tempting, but even I can accept that it’s still too early to be making such requests.

“I spent the summer with them,” I say, lowing myself back into my chair, “when I was about sixteen. It feels so long ago now…”