Stray (31 page)

Aislynn crossed the tiny room and looked over her mother's shoulder. In uneven letters, she had stitched
A PURE HEART IS YOUR ONLY COMPASS
.

“You loved that verse,” the queen said.

The sampler was familiar to Aislynn. It was the first one she had completed, and she had been so proud to give it to Tahlia. How silly and amateurish it looked now.

She traced the words with her finger. It had all seemed so easy then. Just be good and pure, and everything would be fine. As if wanting to be something was the same as actually achieving it.

“Mama, you told me that Tahlia had disappeared once before,” said Aislynn.

Her mother nodded and took a seat on the bed. “You were only three. One morning she was simply gone. Your grandmother sent my former fairy godmother to help—I didn't know how to take care of a child on my own.”

Cinnamon, who had been curled up on the rug, rose and rested her furry chin on the queen's lap. To Aislynn's surprise, her mother began stroking the wolf's ears.

“When Adviser Hull came to visit, I expected he would request a new fairy godmother for me, but he didn't even notice she was gone. I don't think he's ever actually looked at Tahlia.” Aislynn's mother frowned. “And when she returned, she was so distraught that I couldn't turn her away. You loved her so much.”

The queen stood, and Cinnamon whined. “I will leave you to your search, darling,” she said, lingering at the door. “Do you think Tahlia's in danger?” she asked, her forehead creased with worry.

Aislynn didn't want to lie to her. “I don't know,” she said.

The queen nodded. “I'll check on the others,” she said, leaving Aislynn alone with Cinnamon and a dresser full of abandoned robes.

Aislynn shook each uniform again, hoping she had missed something. She checked each pocket and found nothing. There was nothing under the bed, nothing in the bedside table, nothing behind the dresser. She lifted the mattress, pulled the bedding apart, and even checked behind each sampler. Nothing.

She was about to give up and head downstairs when Cinnamon began scratching at the dresser. Curious, Aislynn watched as the wolf leaned against the heavy wood, furiously pushing all her weight against it. Then she jumped up on her hind legs and pressed her front paws into the top drawer, causing the entire piece to fall back and hit the wall.

The impact shook the mirror free, and before Aislynn could grab it, it fell from its frame and shattered into a dozen jagged pieces.

“Cinnamon!” Aislynn scolded.

There was a note stuck in the now-empty frame.

Excitement charging through her, Aislynn snatched the parchment and unfolded it to find Tahlia's familiar handwriting.

Dear Aislynn
,

My dear girl, you are so brave. One day I'll be with you again, but until then keep the mirror near—it will give you strength. If you are ever in any true danger, I will send someone to watch over you
.

Beware the storyteller, for his truth is born of lies
.

Love always
,

Tahlia

A
islynn folded the note carefully and knelt next to Cinnamon.

“Tahlia sent you?” she whispered, a warm happiness spreading through her. Cinnamon cocked her head. But the only answer she gave was a set of wet kisses across Aislynn's cheek.

“Come on, girl,” Aislynn said with a soft laugh. “Let's go find the others.”

No one was in the library or the dining room or even the kitchen. The enormous castle was quiet and dark. It made Aislynn sick to think of her parents abandoned here.

She headed out toward the gardens with Cinnamon. The moon was bright in the sky above her.

At the gate, she stopped short. Everything was dying. Brown and dying. The ground was dry and covered in sad, discarded leaves that broke under her feet. Thick vines, knotty and covered in thorns, had wrapped themselves around the trellis.

She glanced back at the castle. Only a few of the windows were illuminated. Her home was falling apart, destined to become overgrown and forgotten. What would happen to her parents without someone to chop wood and stock their pantry? If only . . .

The Orphans. Didn't they need a safe house, somewhere to hide those fleeing from Josetta? What better place than this, a castle that was shrouded in shadow and purposefully ignored? No. Her parents would never agree. Aislynn tried to push the idea away, but it was stuck like a log in a stream.

It was part selfishness that allowed her even to entertain such a thought. Even though autumn was nearly over and the wind was swirling around her, Aislynn wasn't cold. Her skin seemed to burn with anticipation, an eagerness to charge forward. She was no longer a girl wishing for a pure heart to guide her. She knew exactly where she wanted to go.

She wanted to be with Brigid and Elanor and Rhys and Thackery. She wanted to help the Orphans. It was a decision that felt so sure and so right that Aislynn wanted to shout it out loud.

There was a noise behind her, and she spun around. Her father was walking along the crumbling path.

“I've been looking for you,” he said, leaning down to pet Cinnamon. “Your friends are resting, and I thought you might be tired as well.”

But Aislynn was practically buzzing with excitement. “I think I'll stay here a little longer,” she said, holding out her hand. “Would you like to join me, Papa?”

He stared at her extended hand for the longest time before grasping it tightly. His skin was cold, his face ashen.

“What is it?” she asked.

The king took a deep breath. “At the ball, you said I was afraid of you. Of what you had done.” He squeezed Aislynn's hand. “I
was
afraid,” he confessed. His dark hair was peppered with more gray than had been there before, and it gleamed in the moonlight. “But I've come to realize I was afraid
for
you. Your powers were so strong, and you were so young. I blamed myself. I was afraid of what would happen if we didn't send you away, if you didn't learn to control your abilities.”

“You thought you were doing the right thing, Papa,” said Aislynn. “You didn't know.”

“I should have. I should have been more wary when they took you from us when you were a child.” There was a pained look on the king's face. “And then when you were Redirected, Adviser Hull told me to pretend you had never existed. As if it would make the separation more bearable.” He hung his head. “I was so focused on following the Path that I didn't realize how far away it was taking me from the people I love.” His fingers tightened before he released her hands. “I
was
afraid. But not of you, my dear. Never of you.”

Aislynn closed her eyes. Deep in her chest, she felt the magic unfold. Nothing about it felt wrong or wicked. She felt powerful and extraordinary. She felt herself expand, felt the magic rushing through her.

The sad, untended garden seemed to sigh and shimmer. Smooth green vines uncurled across the trellis and gate, passing sweetly opening flowers as they climbed. With her father's hand in hers, Aislynn concentrated on the sagging brown shrubbery, and soon it exploded in vibrant green, dotted with perfect white flowers. The rosebushes were last, each blossom taking its time to unfurl soft petals and open its face toward the autumn moon.

“Beautiful,” said Aislynn's father, but when she glanced up at him, she realized that he wasn't looking at the garden at all. He was looking at her.

A
islynn frowned at her reflection. She looked every inch the princess, from her shimmering curls to her rouged and powdered face. But it was just a facade. If she looked closely, she could still see glimmers of her true self beneath her armor.

With Brigid's help, Aislynn had transformed an old dress of her mother's into a suitable ballgown. The dark blue dress was simple, with the long sleeves and rigid high collar of the Northern Kingdom. Modest, demure. Since she would be riding, there were no stiff petticoats to navigate, and Aislynn had refused to wear a corset. A cloak was attached at her shoulders. It had a hood that she could pull up to obscure her face. She would be almost invisible.

Beneath the embroidered rose on her chest, her heart gave a nervous lurch. It was almost time to leave. The academy was over half a day's ride away, and Linnea would be expecting her at midnight, or so Brigid had said.

It was Brigid who would be remaining behind with Aislynn's parents for the time being, with Cinnamon as protection. Aislynn was grateful but guilty. She had been careful when she told her parents about her plans. They knew she would not be returning tonight and that she would be gone for a while. Aislynn touched her throat. They did not know that there was a chance that she might never come back at all.

Reaching for her tea, Aislynn felt a rush of magic jolt through her. When she lifted the cup to her lips, it was full of sand. Annoyed, she put it back on the tray. Things like that had been happening all week—she had turned her dress three different colors before finally asking Brigid to fix it. Short, uncontrollable bursts of magic when she least expected it, and nothing when she consciously attempted to use it.

It was unacceptable. She needed to be prepared. She thought of the wall of fire she had created that night in the forest, and how she had made the soldier's ax fly back at him. She needed to be ready.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” said Aislynn and Thackery entered, stopping midstep as she turned to face him.

“You look . . . nice.” His smile faltered. “Like a princess.”

“I'm not a princess,” Aislynn corrected him.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I'm a baker.”

“The
best
baker,” he said, and Aislynn laughed.

“The best baker,” she agreed.

Thackery smoothed a lock of hair away from her face, and for a moment everything was the way it was meant to be. Then, far away, the afternoon bell sounded, and Aislynn was brought back to reality.

“Your Majesty?” Thackery extended an arm. “The ball awaits.”

When they reached Erysimum Academy, it was very nearly midnight. They had been riding all day, but Aislynn had thought of nothing but the mirror and Linnea, causing the miles to speed by. The only indication of the long journey was how stiff her fingers felt when she finally uncurled them from the reins. She never thought she would be so grateful for the riding lessons she had taken as a princess.

Thackery found a grove of trees next to the road where he and the horses could remain hidden. Aislynn allowed him to help her down from her horse, her insides knotted up like a basket of hair ribbons. Every part of her was shaking, from her hands to her knees.

“I can't do it,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“You'll be fine.” Thackery's voice was close to her ear, his hand resting at the small of her back. “You're very brave.”

“I don't feel brave,” she said, turning to face him.

“You don't have to feel brave to be brave,” he said, but her hands had already gone numb, and she was afraid that her legs would be next.

All her carefully made plans seemed ridiculous and impossible. What was she thinking, putting herself and her friends back in danger for a silly hand mirror? The world began to spin, and she reached out for Thackery.

Suddenly everything was still and solid again.

“You don't have to feel brave to be brave,” she whispered. But as she curled her fingers around his neck, as she lifted herself on her tiptoes, as she brought his lips to hers, she felt brave. She felt strong and beautiful and wonderful.

Through the moonlight, a clock bell echoed. It was midnight.

“I'm late,” she told him. Her fear was gone, replaced by a wonderful brightness.

“Don't be long,” he said, looking a bit dazed.

“I won't,” she promised, stealing another kiss. Then she stepped out of the safety of his embrace and into the shadows.