Stray (20 page)

T
hey were alone in Madame Moira's study. The candelabra on the top of the oak bookcase cast flickering shadows around the room. Adviser Lennard gestured for Aislynn to sit.

She declined. There was no reason for her to be comfortable.

Adviser Lennard slid a finger across the length of the desk and held it up to the light as if he was checking the cleanliness of the surface. “I know that you lied to Madame Moira,” he said. “It wasn't you who used magic tonight. It was the monarch princess.” He wiped his hand with a handkerchief, taking a moment to glance over the desk at Aislynn. “I assume she was being insulted.”

Aislynn held herself still and said nothing, but Adviser Lennard nodded as if she had confirmed his theory. “Yes, that is usually what makes her more vulnerable to the curse. Your loyalty is admirable. . . .” He plucked at an imaginary thread on his sleeve. “But dangerous.” Pressing his palms together, he let his fingers rest against his chin. He sighed. “The headmistress told me that you have not reported any occurrences since you became Linnea's fairy godmother.”

“There haven't been any,” said Aislynn quietly.

Adviser Lennard clicked his tongue against his teeth as he came around to the front of the desk. “Don't lie to me.” He leaned toward her. “Madame Moira has warned me of your misguided devotion,” he continued, “and how it may prove to be a liability. I am beginning to see her point.

“Your loyalty belongs not to the monarch princess, but to me, and eventually, Path willing, to Prince Westerly.” A knock sounded at the door, but Adviser Lennard ignored it. “I shall leave your punishment to the headmistress, but if there is another incident like this one, I will not hesitate to have you Redirected once again. Do you understand?”

Her heartbeat echoing in her ears, Aislynn managed the smallest of nods.

“Good,” he said. “Come in.”

The headmistress entered and gave a perfunctory curtsy. “I'm here to take Aislynn to her room.”

“Yes, of course.”

Aislynn had turned to follow the headmistress out of the room when Adviser Lennard stopped them both. “Just one more thing. Madame Moira?”

“Yes, Adviser Lennard?”

“Please make sure Aislynn is disciplined appropriately.”

“Naturally,” Madame Moira said.

The sounds of the party could be heard faintly in the hallway. Aislynn's stomach dropped as the headmistress wrapped a cold hand around her shoulder.

“My dear, my poor dear.” Each word was punctuated by a slow shake of her head. “I warned you, didn't I?” Aislynn forced herself to meet Madame Moira's eyes. It was like looking into two dark pits, but she did not falter.

“You may think you're being brave,” said Madame Moira, taking a candle from the sconce at the bottom of the stairs. “But you're not.” She brushed away the drop of hot wax that fell on her hand. “Now get out of my sight. I'll deal with you in the morning.”

Aislynn looked straight ahead as she climbed stiffly up the stairs, her heart pounding. It was only when she was out of sight that she ran, her robes billowing around her.

Safe in her room, Aislynn pulled Tahlia's mirror from her pocket and peered at her reflection. Though the cuts on her face were small, there were many of them. They didn't hurt. But her arm throbbed, and she rolled up her sleeve to discover a wound far worse than any she had given herself. It looked as if she had been burned, the twisted skin red and tender.

Aislynn undressed and crawled into bed, wrapping her fingers around her arm. She deserved this. It was agony, but she gritted her teeth and pushed harder, until there was nothing left to think about but the pain.

A
islynn felt the midnight air against her bare legs as she raced through the trees, her dress gathered in her arms. Her breath was as loud as her footsteps, both echoing through the silent forest as she pushed forward
.

There was no moon. Searching the darkness, Aislynn looked for the gleam of silvery fur, the glow of yellow eyes, but saw nothing
.

She stumbled and dropped to her knees
.

Something wet touched her hand. The wolf was beside her, its eyes round and curious. Aislynn took a deep breath and reached toward it
.

The pain in Aislynn's arm woke her. She dressed carefully, the burn throbbing like a heartbeat. It wasn't until she had closed the door to her bedroom and was heading down the hall that she realized that for the first time since her nightmares had begun, she hadn't woken with clammy skin and a racing pulse. Even thinking about the dream didn't cause the same fear and anxiety they usually did. That should have worried her, but she felt quiet and still, like an untouched lake.

Until she discovered she was late. Last night's frustration and disappointment came rushing back at her. She couldn't even wake up on time. What kind of fairy godmother was she?

As she stepped out of the kitchen, she saw the others coming back from Thackery's with roses for their princesses. They grew silent as she passed.

Holding her head high, Aislynn hurried to the cottage. Thackery was finishing the last bouquet—Linnea's—as she approached. He was whistling.

Aislynn cleared her throat, and the whistling stopped.

“Morning,” she said, touching her injured cheek self-consciously.

“Morning.” He raised an eyebrow. “I had no idea they were featuring knife fights at the evening's festivities.”

“Only when the orchestra takes a break,” Aislynn responded, and he grinned. She caught a glimpse of his crooked bottom teeth, and somehow that made her feel better.

“So, did you win?” he asked, handing her the flowers.

Aislynn thought about the way Violaine had screeched when she was pelted with red wine. “One might say that,” she said, smiling.

They stood there in the morning sunlight, grinning at each other. Thackery took a step forward, and Aislynn's heart leaped into her throat. She backed up, and his smile fell.

“I just wanted . . . I wanted to say . . .” he started, but the morning bell rang. Aislynn was late.

“I have to go.” She turned and hurried back to the castle, warmth spreading through her chest.

The kitchen servants were busier than usual, tending to the aftermath of the ball. In the middle of it all was Brigid, elbow deep in dirty wine goblets. Not wanting to disturb her, Aislynn grabbed the tea tray and rushed upstairs to Linnea's room.

The monarch princess was still in bed, her blankets bundled up around her neck. When she saw Aislynn, her face brightened, and with a great swoop, she pushed aside the blankets, scrambled from the bed, and wrapped her arms around her fairy godmother.

“Mind the tray,” Aislynn said, but she quickly set it and the roses down and hugged the princess back.

“I thought they had sent you away,” Linnea cried, leaving large wet spots on Aislynn's shoulder. “I thought I was all alone. What did they say? Are you going to be punished?”

“Don't you worry,” said Aislynn, but she was grateful for the concern. “The important thing is that I'm not going anywhere. I'm still yours.” Her voice caught, but Linnea didn't seem to notice. Instead she just squeezed Aislynn tighter, rocking them both from side to side.

“I'm so sorry,” she murmured into Aislynn's uniform.

“It's all right.” Aislynn gently sat Linnea down at the vanity and began untangling her hair. “You just need to be more careful.”

“I know. But that poisonous girl . . .”

“You can't let her and others like her affect you in such a way.” It was hollow advice, as she had never been able to ignore Violaine herself, but Linnea nodded.

“I try, but sometimes it's just so hard.”

“It's best to ignore whatever will make you lose control.” Aislynn wished she had substantial wisdom to offer, but as
The Path
said, “A fairy godmother is only to caution, never to counsel.” It was not her role to direct the monarch princess in such matters.

Linnea bent her head, and it took a moment for Aislynn to realize that she was quietly reciting the daily supplication.

“I will accept the Path I am taking. I will not stray. I will not yearn for what I cannot have. I will heed the words of my advisers and guard my loving heart against cursed magic. Ever after.”

Linnea caught Aislynn's eye in the mirror. “Thank you for what you did last night. You saved me from . . .” The monarch princess didn't need to finish her sentence. They both knew exactly what Aislynn had done. She had saved Linnea from being Redirected, from becoming just like her.

“You're welcome.” But Aislynn couldn't help feeling that it was a bit unfair. Adviser Lennard knew that she had lied, knew that it had been the monarch princess who had used magic, yet there had been no mention of the possibility of Redirecting Linnea. Aislynn quickly pushed that thought away—she had protected the princess—that was all that mattered.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Good morning.” Madame Moira entered with a curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she said. “Adviser Lennard and Prince Westerly are waiting for you in the sitting room.” Linnea let out a happy sigh, sharing a smile with Aislynn, who began untangling the monarch princess's hair in earnest. They were already behind schedule.

“And Aislynn? Once you have delivered the monarch princess to her guests, come see me in my study.”

Nervously Aislynn caught Madame Moira's gaze in the mirror.

She was smiling.

Brigid swayed on her feet when she saw the blood. Aislynn would have gone straight to the sitting room to check on Linnea, but her fingers were bleeding so much that she needed them tended to.

“I didn't mean to scare you.” Aislynn apologized as Brigid wrapped tiny strips of fabric around each fingertip. The blood instantly appeared in perfect red circles on the white cloth.

“I wish I could just heal them,” Brigid muttered as she tied the last bandage. She lifted her wrists, looking at the red bands with irritation.

Aislynn shook her head. “It's a punishment, and it's supposed to be painful and evident. Even if you healed them, the headmistress would just do it again, and she'd take a certain type of pleasure from it.”

Brigid looked disgusted as she emptied the bowl of water she had used to clean the punctures, the pinkish liquid swirling around the drain before disappearing. There were dark circles under her eyes and she tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn.

“Was last night a success?” Aislynn asked quietly, relieved when Brigid smiled.

“The information you gave us was incredibly helpful and—” Brigid went silent as another servant hurried past, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “We want to do something to thank you. Can you meet here after midnight tonight?”

With a nod and a quick good-bye, Aislynn was off—dashing down the hallway to the other end of the academy. She narrowly avoided a collision with Prince Westerly, who was standing outside the sitting room.

“Sir.” Aislynn gave a curtsy, which the prince acknowledged with a slight, disinterested nod. Pushing open the heavy door, Aislynn found Linnea sitting on the couch with Adviser Lennard, while Madame Moira stood in the corner. The headmistress gave Aislynn and her bandaged fingers a cold look. Clearly her detour had been noted.

“. . . evening, wasn't it?” Adviser Lennard was saying. “I think you presented yourself quite well. Considering.”

“Thank you, Adviser.” Linnea was sitting in a spot of sunlight from the window, making her features all the more porcelain and perfect. Even the blush that clung to her cheeks was becoming. “I had a wonderful time.”

“Well, now.” He stood and rubbed his hands together briskly. “I think we've kept Westerly waiting long enough. Shall we?” He offered the princess his arm. Before Aislynn could follow them, she was pulled aside by Madame Moira.

“They will be taking a walk around the gardens. Since I will be entertaining the adviser, you must act as their chaperone. Stay behind them. Do not let them out of your sight. Do not speak to them.” Her eyes were fierce. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Headmistress.”

“Now stop wasting my time,” Madame Moira hissed, “and fulfill your duties.”

Aislynn raced out of the room to catch the monarch princess and her suitor.

The morning chill was already beginning to fade, indicating that the day would be warm. Aislynn remained several steps behind Linnea and Prince Westerly as they strolled through the gardens. Clearly Adviser Lennard was pushing for a speedy engagement. Aislynn knew that a chaperoned visit like this one was granted only to a suitor who had made his intentions clear.

Aislynn watched with displeasure as the prince wrenched a perfect red rose from one of Thackery's immaculately tended rosebushes. Its stem was mangled and twisted, but Linnea swooned over it as though it were a golden egg.