Stray (24 page)

Brigid was silent for a moment. The air smelled of dust and unshed rain.

“I used to think we were so different,” she finally said. “That girls like you didn't feel pain. That you never got hurt. I never even imagined you'd have scars.” Her hand reached up and curled over her shoulder, where Aislynn knew Josetta's brand was burned into her skin. “And I never thought they'd look almost like mine.” Brigid met Aislynn's gaze. Her eyes were sad but steady. “I wish I could heal them. I wish I could make them go away.”

It was the first time Aislynn had even thought of using magic to remove her scars. For a moment she imagined herself without them. Clear and unblemished. New again.

But she shook her head. “They're a part of me now,” she said, surprised to realize it was true. She didn't want to be new. She wanted to be who she was.

Brigid took Aislynn's hands again. “No more new scars,” she said. It was not a question.

“No more new scars,” Aislynn agreed.

Brigid wrapped an arm around her and the two of them sat there for a long time, watching the foal gallop and the leaves fall.

A
islynn's dress was tight. She could barely breathe as she was laced into it.

“You look nice,” Brigid said, but she seemed to be regarding Aislynn as a stranger. And for good reason. A glance at the full-length mirror that had been delivered to her room the previous day revealed someone whom Aislynn barely recognized.

The scars on her arms were hidden under thin gauze bandages, and Brigid had sewn tiny invisible loops on the gown's sleeves, for Aislynn to hook onto her fingers so the sleeves would be unable to slip back above her wrists. Still, even with all the layers of undergarments and six petticoats, Aislynn felt more naked then ever before. More exposed.

Brigid gave Aislynn's shoulders a comforting squeeze before fastening the last button. The room felt stuffy and hot; sweat was already beginning to form at the base of Aislynn's spine.

She knew that people would be staring at her tonight, knew that the story of her Redirection would be a popular item of gossip and that she would spend the evening being chased by whispers and giggles. Glancing again at the mirror, she decided to imagine her dress as armor, protecting her from sharp and cruel remarks. It was the only way she would survive. She took her broken locket from the dresser, and Brigid helped her with the clasp.

“Good luck,” Brigid whispered.

Aislynn forced a smile and clutched her bag to her stomach. She could feel the outlines of Tahlia's mirror and letter through the satin, and they gave her some small comfort. Taking a deep breath, Aislynn headed to the drawing room to greet her mother.

The queen arrived in a flurry of perfume and unshed tears, collapsing into Aislynn's embrace. Linnea, who had insisted on being present for their reunion, stood on the other side of the room, watching the scene with delight.

“Hello, Mama,” said Aislynn into her mother's shoulder, her voice muffled. She filled her senses with the familiar scent of her perfume. Orange and spices.

“You look wonderful,” said the queen, dabbing gently at her eyes, her powder remaining impeccable. “Just wonderful.”

Aislynn smoothed her hair self-consciously. The bandages, thin as they were, made her arms feel stiff and uncomfortable, and the dress made the rest of her feel the same way. Underneath the massive skirt and petticoats, her ankles were wobbling in shoes that pinched her toes and arched her feet. She had forgotten how to walk in them, and she felt as graceful and elegant as a bundle of sticks. The queen smiled and took Aislynn's face in her hands as if she couldn't bear to look away.

“Believe me, all eyes will be on you this evening.” The queen looked at Linnea and curtsied gracefully. “On both of you.”

There was a comforting little fire burning in the fireplace, and the three of them placed their bags on a corner table and settled onto the small chairs in front of the warm flames.

“You know, I met your parents at a ball once,” the queen said gently, turning to Linnea.

“You did?”

Aislynn could see the yearning in the other girl's eyes.

“Indeed. Just after they were married.” The queen gave a deep sigh.

Aislynn smiled—it was the sigh that meant she was about to tell a story that involved romance and drama.

“Your mother was quite a beauty. You get your hair from her, I see.”

Linnea's hand went automatically to her head. “Yes, I'm often told I look like her.”

“It's no small compliment, my dear. And your father, well.” The look on the queen's face was wistful. “He was handsome, too. Not as handsome as
my
husband, mind you.” The queen winked, and Linnea laughed. “But handsome indeed. And he would look at your mother with such devotion. For him, there was no one else in the room.”

The story was a kind lie, as Aislynn was certain that her mother had never met Linnea's parents. But the monarch princess deserved to hear something good about her mother and father once in a while, and so Aislynn didn't say a thing.

There was a knock at the door, and Linnea's new fairy godmother entered.

“Your Majesties,” she said with a curtsy before turning to the monarch princess. “Shall I escort you to the carriage, my lady?”

“I thought we were traveling to Nyssa Academy together?” Linnea asked, her brow wrinkled with confusion.

“You are,” said the fairy godmother. “But the headmistress would like to see Princess Aislynn. In private.”

“Of course,” Linnea said, grabbing her bag and giving Aislynn a quick hug before following her fairy godmother out of the room.

As soon as the door was shut, Aislynn turned to the queen. “Where is Tahlia, Mother?”

Aislynn's mother paused for a moment before giving her daughter a placid smile.

“She's gone away.”

“Away?” Aislynn noticed that her mother would not quite look her in the eye. “She went away?”

Your family was the brightness of my life
. . .

Was. Had this been what her fairy godmother had been trying to say in her cryptic letter? That she was leaving?

“Yes, darling, away.” The queen retrieved their bags. “Don't act so alarmed, dear. It's not the first time.”

“It's not?”

“Of course not.” Her mother's laugh was almost lost amid the jangling of her earrings. “Why, when you were a child, she disappeared for almost a year. Don't you remember?”

But there was no time to answer. There was a brisk knock, and the headmistress entered the sitting room holding a glass jar in which a pale blue light pulsed steadily. Aislynn's loving heart.

Aislynn placed a curious hand to her chest. She had been so sure that her loving heart had already been returned to her. How could she have felt so much without it?

“Your Majesties.” Madame Moira gave a low, respectful curtsy, but her expression was decidedly displeased. With a slender finger, she tapped the side of the glass. “Are you prepared?”

Without waiting for a reply, she slowly unscrewed the lid. The glowing light rose out of the jar and hovered in the air, quietly pulsing. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Then, with a bright flash, the little blue glow rushed straight into Aislynn's chest. If she hadn't been so surprised, she might have thrown out her hands, but she was frozen in place as it disappeared into her.

Aislynn gasped. The breath she had been holding burst out as if there was no longer room inside her lungs to contain it. Her body seemed to expand, ribs spreading, bones shifting, chest nearly bursting.

And then, suddenly, it was as if everything was brighter and closer. Whatever she had felt in the garden with Thackery was nothing compared to this moment. Every emotion, every feeling was now sharp and raw and overwhelming. It was too much, too fast. She felt as if she was burning, as if her heart was on fire. It was agony. She burst into tears.

Immediately her mother's arms were around her, guiding her to a chair and gently rubbing her back as Aislynn sobbed into her handkerchief. It wasn't until she had calmed down that Aislynn realized that the headmistress was gone.

Through her pain came the wish, unbidden, that she could give Madame Moira her own loving heart, so that she might share in the agony that came with its return. But it was such a cruel and wicked wish that Aislynn quickly pushed it away.

“Darling?” the queen whispered.

“It hurts.” The admission was raw in Aislynn's throat.

The queen smoothed a hand across her cheek, but the gentle gesture only made it worse, loss and longing slamming into Aislynn like a speeding carriage. It was as if the past two seasons had been a strange dream.

But everything felt real now. And with it came the familiar feelings of inadequacy and loathing. “What if I can't do this?” she whispered. With or without her loving heart, she was still a failure. And as if to remind her what had brought her here in the first place, magic flickered in her chest. “What if I can't control it?”

“Darling, what do you mean?” Her mother's face was lined with concern.

“What if I can't control my magic?”

“Then you'll have to find a way to hide it.” Her mother took a deep breath. Slipping off her shoe, the queen carefully rolled down her own stocking.

Aislynn stifled a gasp. The bottom of her mother's foot was nearly covered with painful-looking red welts, not unlike the ones that marred Aislynn's legs.

“When I was your age,” said the queen, “I could not control my occurrences. So I found a way to hide them.”

“But father—”

“Your father has never seen them.” The words were sharp. “No one has to know about the magic you do, my dear.” Resting her forehead against Aislynn's, the queen took a deep breath. “If you are careful and quiet, you will be safe.”

The fire crackled in the grate, and Aislynn was speechless—and, suddenly, flush with anger. Why had her mother kept this secret from her? If Aislynn had known that her own mother was just as weak, just as imperfect, maybe it would have kept her from feeling so broken. So lonely.

There was a knock, and Madame Moira entered again. “The carriages are waiting,” she said.

The queen rose. “Are you ready, my darling?”

Aislynn shook her head. “I need a moment by myself,” she said, and the queen nodded, shutting the door very quietly behind her.

In the empty room, even with the fire burning, Aislynn felt cold and confused and so very alone. She reached out for her evening bag, for Tahlia's letter. Tahlia had believed in her, hadn't she? The writing was blurry as she wiped her tears away and began to read.

The handwriting was different. This wasn't Tahlia's letter she was holding. And why was Linnea's bag in her lap, not her own? She glanced at the bottom of the page. In beautiful script it read:

My love always
,

Brigid

A
islynn did not speak during the carriage ride. Her heart ached, and her head was practically brimming with secrets—first her mother's, and now Linnea's. The more she thought about Linnea and Brigid, the more it was like a puzzle, that final piece revealing the entire picture.

Aislynn had heard gossip about ladies-in-waiting, stories about friendships that had evolved past what the advisers considered acceptable, but she had never heard a whisper of such affection forming between a royal and a servant.

When they arrived at Nyssa Academy, Linnea and Aislynn were shepherded into the waiting room. It was already full of nervous and excited girls, eagerly chattering to one another. Aislynn recognized several princesses from Nerine but said nothing to them, choosing to stay with Linnea. There were stares and murmurs, but Aislynn ignored them.

Still, she was grateful when Nyssa's headmistress stepped forward to lead them all in the prayer of gratitude. It meant that the whispering would stop, if only for a few moments.