Stray (7 page)

T
he carriage waiting for Aislynn was so small it seemed like a toy version of itself. On the top was tied one modest trunk. Clearly she would not be needing her fancy dresses, perfumes, or powders anymore. From his post next to the carriage, an elderly coachman opened the door and helped Aislynn squeeze herself inside.

“Thank you,” she said.

He closed the door, and Madame Odette's hand extended through the open window. “Your locket, please.” She gestured impatiently. “Now.” Her command was as sharp as a blade.

Aislynn had not removed her necklace since it had been given to her as a child. She handed it to the headmistress and watched with horror as Madame Odette opened the locket and snapped off the front half—the half that would have been inscribed with the name of Aislynn's husband.

“You won't be needing that anymore,” Madame Odette said with satisfaction, returning what was left of the locket to Aislynn before heading back into the school.

“All right in there, my lady?” The footman peered inside the coach, his face kind and concerned. “I know it's a bit snug.”

“I'll be fine.” Trying to ignore her trembling hands, Aislynn put her necklace back on. “Where are we headed, please?” Madame Odette had not bothered to provide any information.

“Elderwood Academy, Princess. Near the eastern border.”

“How long is the journey?” Aislynn asked, knowing that Redirected girls were sent to academies far away. It would be her first time outside the Northern Kingdom.

“It's not a quick one,” he said apologetically. “We'll get there after nightfall. We'll likely eat dinner in the nearest township.” Reaching up, he checked the tightness of the rope securing her trunk. Aislynn wondered which of her personal items the headmistress had allowed Tahlia to pack.

“Ready to go, Princess?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, and as a smile brightened the coachman's weathered face, she caught a glimpse of the handsome young man he had been in his youth. “What is your name?”

“Ford, Princess.”

“You can call me Aislynn,” she said.

With a tip of his hat, he disappeared from sight. The carriage shifted as he climbed up behind the horses.

When she had first arrived at Nerine Academy, Aislynn had imagined she would leave with a name on her locket and a celebration, not with a small trunk early in the morning before the rest of the school awakened. With a jolt, the coach rolled forward, and Nerine soon disappeared behind them.

Aislynn discovered quickly that she hated riding in carriages, at least those no bigger than some of her mother's hats. Every bump was like being jostled apart and then put back together incorrectly. At each stop, leaving the vehicle required learning to walk again. The poor horses seemed as tired as she was when they finally rested for lunch, still hours from the border.

Ford, on the other hand, appeared to relish their journey.

“It's the wind, Princess,” he told her when she asked why. “Never was made for the life of an indoor servant, and I can't farm. But I love the wind.” Ford didn't say much more, keeping his head bowed respectfully as they ate.

The journey was lonely. Aislynn had only her thoughts to keep her company, and sad and scared as she was, they weren't much comfort. To keep from crying, Aislynn recited 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 adviser and guard my loving heart against cursed magic. Ever after.”

If she had been a clever girl, she would have prepared better for this moment. There was a part of her that had always known she would be Redirected. Like the four sisters, she was full of wicked, covetous thoughts. But she couldn't ignore the aching of her heart when she thought of Everett and the life she had so desperately wanted. Her mind knew that it was foolhardy, but her heart remained stupidly hopeful.

The carriage lurched to a halt. Aislynn leaned her head out the window to see why they had stopped. The horses pawed at the ground, wild-eyed. Ford was in front of them, his hand on their harness, speaking softly. A brisk wind blew through the carriage, and Aislynn shivered. Perhaps there was a blanket or cloak packed away in her bag. Ford came rushing over when he saw her struggling with the rope holding her trunk to the roof.

“Princess!”

“I was hoping to find something to keep me warm.” She rubbed at her arms, which were covered in goose bumps. “Your wind is quite cold.”

“I'll find you something. Just please stay in the carriage.” The fear on his face was so palpable that Aislynn nodded and climbed back inside.

Outside her window was a forest, dense and dark, like the one in her dreams. The tree trunks were old and gnarled, the leaves almost black in the fading light. The branches were so tangled together that it was impossible to tell which tree they belonged to. From the stories she had heard, she would guess that they were at the edge of the great forest, the one that surrounded the Central Mountains and protected Queen Josetta's kingdom. Aislynn could not help but imagine the Wicked Queen in those woods, beckoning to her. One of the horses reared up with a loud whinny, and Aislynn dropped back in her seat, glad that she had been ordered to stay where she was.

When Ford reappeared at the window, he had a thick red shawl in his hands. It was soft and large, with long tassels at each end. It looked like it had been made by someone who loved him very much, and Aislynn felt undeserving as she wrapped it around her shoulders, covering her thin blue riding gown with the warm knitted wool.

Aislynn could swear that Ford was pushing the horses to go faster and faster. At some point they must have passed the border between the Northern and Eastern Kingdoms and left the threatening forest behind. Their pace eased up after that.

After hours of travel, they reached the Elderwood township. Ford helped her down from the carriage in front of the inn where they would be eating dinner. It was only a few more hours to the academy, she was told.

“It's a rough place and not what you're used to,” Ford said apologetically as he handed the horses' reins to the inn's stableboy, but Aislynn shook her head.

“I'm not a princess anymore.” It was the first time she had said it out loud, but it helped that she no longer felt like a princess, with her crumpled dress and dusty face.

Ford led her into the busy inn, making sure she was settled at a small table in the corner before excusing himself to tend to the horses. The dining room was full of people dressed in a wide array of colors. Aislynn had never seen anything like it. Among commoners, there was no need to display rank or status.

When she was a little girl, she had often grown tired of wearing only blue. Her mother would sigh and throw up her hands. “We can't just wear whatever we want,” she would say. “We are not peasants.” Aislynn remembered those words now as she watched a young woman, dressed in a dizzying blend of reds, purples, and yellows, serving food. Her clothing was quite different from the gray uniforms and head scarves academy servants were required to wear. Aislynn drew the red shawl tighter around her blue dress, hoping it would disguise her royal status and allow her to blend in.

Aislynn had never spent much time thinking about the servants at home or at school, beyond being grateful that after their first occurrence, all peasant women were required to report to the ruler of their county. A fairy godmother would then perform the custody spell, a charm that limited their magic and kept them safe. If these unfortunates would not protect themselves, it was a royal's duty to shelter them from harm.

The room was full of noise, of talking and laughter. Aislynn felt alone at her little corner table, and the thin broth she had ordered was a miserly comfort. There were rolls too, but one bite revealed that they were slightly stale, the crust sticky instead of crunchy. Aislynn remembered the warm, fragrant bread she had made with Tahlia, hardly able to believe that only a day had passed. So much had changed already.

She spotted a girl about her own age sitting close to a young man. Their heads were bent together, their hands clasped. Was this how peasants fell in love, their desires clearly displayed?

Aislynn thought about Queen Josetta. How she had forsaken the Path and her family and married a peasant. Had she been wooed like this young woman, her suitor's arms wrapped boldly around her while everyone watched?

As the girl tilted her face up to be kissed, Aislynn turned away. Despite the indecency of it all, she couldn't help the swell of jealousy that burned in her throat. She had been silly enough to hope that she would find love, but she quickly banished that longing. Such wishes were now traitorous to her Path.

Aislynn was looking toward the door, wondering when Ford would come back, when a young man sat down across from her.

“Is this seat taken?” His hair was dark and rumpled. Like the others in the inn, he was dressed in a variety of colors, and he was using his green vest to clean off the apple he held. As he leaned forward, Aislynn could feel heat radiating off him.

“I . . .” Aislynn glanced around for Ford but was still unable to find him in the crowded room.

“Headed to Elderwood, aren't you?” The stranger took a bite of the apple. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Aislynn had never seen a man's forearms before.

She realized she was staring.

“How did you know?” Aislynn dropped her eyes to the table, only to find herself looking at his strong, sun-browned hands.

“Oh, I know everything.” He tapped his temple, his green eyes flashing. “Except your name. I'm Thackery,” he said, holding out a hand. She stared at it for a moment before shaking it. It was warm and firm.

“Aislynn.”

“Where will you be working at the academy?” he asked.

“The kitchen.” The lie was out of her mouth before she could rethink it.

“Ah, so you're a cook.”

“A baker.” It somehow seemed better than the truth.

“I like baking,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “Are you any good?”

“I'm the best.” Aislynn sat up, pulling the shawl tight around her shoulders. Of course she had never baked without Tahlia's supervision, but there was no reason he needed to know that. She wanted to impress him, but she didn't know why.

Thackery raised an eyebrow. “Surely not!” He pointed at the half-eaten bun on her plate. “Those are the best rolls in all of the Eastern Kingdom.”

“The
best
?” Aislynn sputtered. “I would hardly call them rolls. They are an insult to bread.” She winced a little at her dramatic tone, but she couldn't help being horrified at the prospect of living in a kingdom that had no proper concept of what made a good roll.

“Well, I suppose they're not the
best
. . . ,” Thackery said, grabbing the second, untouched bun and taking a bite. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully. “Maybe a little dry.”

“A
little
? They're stale where they should be soft, chewy where they should be crisp, and completely and utterly—”

“Terrible,” he concluded.

Realizing that he was teasing her, Aislynn flushed with embarrassment. “I never meant to say . . .”

He smiled, and Aislynn could see that his bottom teeth were crooked. “Why apologize for expecting something better?”

“Leave the young lady alone.” It was Ford.

Thackery grinned sheepishly as the older man shook his head.

“Is he bothering you?” Ford asked Aislynn.

“Yes,” she said, although she wasn't sure it was the truth.

“He's harmless,” Ford said as he sat down. “Bothersome but harmless.”

“I prefer charming but harmless,” Thackery corrected with mock seriousness.

“I heard you were looking for a ride back to the academy,” said Ford.

“I was. If you don't mind, of course.” Thackery stood, smiling down at Aislynn. She looked away, wondering why he wanted to go to the academy.

“It's not my minding that would be the issue,” Ford said.

Aislynn's cheeks, already warm, grew even hotter at the thought of spending the rest of her journey tightly pressed against Thackery in the tiny carriage. She turned to Ford. “Is there room?”

“There's a step on the back of the carriage. You won't even know I'm there.” Thackery leaned forward, his eyes innocent. “Of course, I could always walk back. It's only fifteen miles or so, and I've done it before. I would get back awfully late, though. I only hope I can arrange the bouquets in time for the morning bell.”

“Bouquets?” Aislynn asked before she could stop herself. Thackery laughed.

“I'm the academy gardener.” He said it with pride.

Of course he worked there. He must have seen her arrive with Ford, which was how he had known where she was going. He might even have known that she was lying about being a baker, or if he didn't, he would find out soon enough.

She should tell him the truth, but couldn't. “I suppose that would be fine,” she said instead. After all, what did it matter what a gardener thought of her?

“Thank you, Aislynn.”

She didn't want to like the way he said her name. With the shawl tight around her shoulders, she rose from the table, grateful for the long skirt that hid her wobbly, traitorous knees.

“I didn't mean to be so sharp before,” Ford said as they walked along the uneven cobblestones to the stable, Thackery several steps behind them. It took a moment for Aislynn to realize he was talking about his earlier insistence that she not leave the carriage.

“It's all right. You just wanted to settle the horses.”

But Ford shook his head. “It's not just that.” He slowed his steps. “There was a girl the other night. A girl who vanished.”

“Maris?” Aislynn was surprised he had heard about Maris—did servants usually concern themselves with the goings-on at other academies? “She didn't vanish. She strayed.”