Stray (15 page)

“Thank you,” she said. He nodded and turned back to the stables, leaving her alone. She was just about to open the letter when she heard Brigid calling her name.

“Where have you been?” Brigid huffed as she raced toward her.

“I—”

The other girl shook her head, still breathing heavily. “It doesn't matter. Let's get you inside before the headmistress notices you didn't take the monarch princess back to her room.”

The letter in her pocket taunted Aislynn for the rest of the day, a day that seemed cursed with busywork. It wasn't until hours later, when she was finally back in her room that Aislynn found a moment to herself. Settling onto her bed, she pulled out Tahlia's letter and broke the seal.

Dearest Aislynn
,

My wonderful, clever girl. You should not have contacted me
.

Though I have never regretted the decisions I made as your fairy godmother, I cannot protect or guide you any longer. Keep the mirror close, and you will never truly be lonely. You already know what is right, what is good. You already know what must be done—trust yourself
.

Please know I will remain loyal and dedicated to you and your parents, no matter what. Your family was the brightness of my life
.

Remember that it is warmth that makes bread rise
.

Tahlia

S
omething was wrong.

Aislynn stared at Tahlia's letter and tried to make sense of it. She read it a dozen times, but still didn't understand it. Protect her? Protect her from what?

Knowing she would be unable to sleep, Aislynn quietly padded downstairs. The kitchen was empty and dark, lit only by her candle and the glowing embers of the fire. It took her some time to find the necessary ingredients, but eventually she had everything she needed.

It was awkward at first. She cracked an egg too hard and had to fish out the shells, and she had forgotten how to hold a whisk properly, but it soon came back to her. While the butter and milk were warming together, she folded the eggs into the flour and yeast. Slowly, wonderfully, perfectly, everything came together to form a sticky mound of dough. She set it aside to rise.

The cinnamon tickled her nose as she grated it. With a spoon, she swirled the golden-brown spice into a bowl of sugar, stirring until they were blended together.

She knew the dough was ready when she pressed against its smooth top and it gently, softly pushed back. The room filled with the wonderful scent of flour and yeast when Aislynn sank her hands into the mixture, the dough clinging to her fingers like spiderwebs.

Each slide of the rolling pin swept a cloud of flour into the air, the white powder settling on her uniform and face like snow. Her mind was cleared of anything but this moment, this simple act. After the dough had been smoothed and shaped, Aislynn brushed the surface with melted butter, her mouth watering at the smell of it. The cinnamon and sugar came next, sprinkled evenly across the top.

With a sharp knife, she sliced the sweetened dough into small rectangles and gently piled them on top of each other, like pages in a book. Carefully, she turned the towering pile on its side and transferred it to a waiting pan. As it rose, she set to work restoring the kitchen to its previous state of cleanliness. Once all the dishes were washed and put away and the pages of dough had doubled in size, she placed the bread in the oven to bake.

She sat down to reread Tahlia's letter, and she discovered something else strange. Her fairy godmother had written:
Your family was the brightness of my life
. Was. As if they no longer met this description. What had changed? Had something happened to her family? Aislynn took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

Tahlia was just trying to help her. She knew that it was against the rules for them to write each other and that Aislynn would get in trouble if she was caught. That was all. If something truly was wrong, Tahlia would have told her. But still Aislynn could not shake the lingering weight of suspicion that lay across her shoulders.

The scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the kitchen, a reminder of the task at hand. Checking the oven, Aislynn was surprised to find the bread was already browned, her thoughts seemingly speeding the passage of time. Carefully, she took the loaf out of the oven and upended it into a clean towel. Suddenly she knew exactly what to do with it. She had never really given Thackery a proper thank-you for delivering the letter, and she imagined he would appreciate waking up to a gift such as this.

The crickets kept Aislynn company as she crossed the grounds, heading for the cottage. A flicker of light caught her eye. It was coming from the stable windows.

She should just keep going. But her curiosity steered her toward the barn. She could hear bits of a muffled conversation floating through the partially open door.

“. . . out of here?”

“There must be . . . figure it out.”

“It's too dangerous . . . ?”

Thackery. Ford. Brigid.

Aislynn crept across the drive, accidentally kicking gravel against the building. The conversation stopped abruptly, and the door swung open. She had been caught.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Thackery.

Startled, Aislynn stepped back and caught her heel on her uniform. Stumbling awkwardly, she fell and hit the ground hard.

“For thorns' sake, Thackery.” Brigid pushed past him to help Aislynn to her feet. “What's this?” she asked, looking at the bundle in Aislynn's arms.

“Bread.” She held it out awkwardly. “Cinnamon bookbinder bread.”

“We don't have time for this,” said Thackery, looking over his shoulder. In the shadows of the stable, Aislynn caught sight of a young girl with dirty-blond hair peering out from the heavy wool blanket that was wrapped around her shoulders. She was staring at the bread with hungry eyes.

She looked thirteen, fourteen maybe, and the dirt on her face was streaked with old tears. She was small and thin and almost disappeared into the moth-bitten blanket.

Aislynn held out the warm bread. “You can have it, if you'd like.” The girl hesitated.

“It's all right.” Brigid nodded encouragingly. “She's a friend.”

“She's a nuisance,” muttered Thackery.

Darting forward, the girl snatched the loaf from Aislynn and quickly retreated to the shadows. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, revealing a tattered rag of a dress. On her back was a circular brand, like Thackery's, but the skin around it was red and raw.

“We appreciate the food,” Brigid whispered, “but you really should go.”

Aislynn planted her feet. “I want to know what's going on.”

“We don't have time to explain it to you,” Ford interjected. “We need to send this girl away from here tonight.”

“Elanor said that there would be a carriage waiting for her in town,” Brigid added, as if Aislynn knew who Elanor was. “But we have to get her there before sunrise.”

“Elanor also said that she would have an appropriate disguise.” Thackery's voice dropped to a frustrated growl. “We can't put her on the carriage dressed like that.”

“I have something she could wear,” Aislynn offered hesitantly. All three heads swiveled toward her. “I still have my traveling gown. My royal one.” There was no response. “It's blue,” she added, unnerved by their silent stares.

“This isn't a loan,” Thackery said, his gaze boring into her. “You won't be getting your pretty dress back.”

“I don't have much use for pretty dresses now, do I?” she snapped at him.

Thackery glanced at her purple robes, his face unreadable. “No, I suppose not.” He didn't sound angry anymore.

Aislynn turned back to the others. “It's in my room. I can go fetch it.”

“I'll go with you,” Brigid said, glaring at Thackery as she took Aislynn's arm. “We'll be back shortly. You'd better prepare the horses.”

Aislynn and Brigid rushed back to the castle and up to Aislynn's room in silence. Yanking open her dresser, Aislynn found the gown neatly folded, exactly as she had left it the night she had arrived. She ran a hand over the stiff blue fabric and waited for a sense of loss, a sense of longing for her former life.

It was strange, for although she still missed Tahlia and her parents, she had stopped missing the blue dress and all the trappings and attention that came with it.

“What are those?” asked Brigid, pointing to the bodice.

There were three small white dots on the fabric. “I'm not sure,” Aislynn said, rubbing at them with her finger. “It looks like wax.”

“I would have just given her one of my uniforms,” said Brigid. “But I only have two, and if I ask for another one, they'll get suspicious.”

Aislynn waved her off. “I don't mind. Truly. But I want to know what's going on.”

Brigid frowned. “Not here. Let's get back to the barn, and I promise I'll tell you everything.”

The young girl was sleeping when they returned, curled up on a bale of hay. Who was she? Aislynn wondered. What was she doing here in such a state? And why did she have the same mark as Thackery?

Brigid went to get the girl dressed, and Ford gestured for Aislynn to join him by the horses. He was gently stroking the nose of a beautiful white mare when she approached.

“It's a nice thing you've done,” he said quietly. “I'm sure there won't be a day that goes by where she won't remember your kindness. We'll make sure to pay back that debt for her.”

Brigid and the girl stepped out of the shadows.

Aislynn's heart sank. The dress was far too large for her. “It's too big. I should have known it wasn't going to fit,” she said with regret.

But Brigid gestured dismissively. “That's easily fixed.” She ran her hands lightly over the girl's shoulders and waist, over the skirt and down to the hem.

Magic perked up inside Aislynn like a friendly dog, as if to acknowledge the spell that now pulsed in the air, surrounding the young stowaway like an invisible, warm wall. The blue dress began to shrink. The shoulders tightened, the waist narrowed, and the hem crept off the floor.

It was astonishing to watch, and Aislynn was terrified.

Brigid rubbed her hands. “Thankfully, it was a little too large. I'm much better at shrinking fabric than I am at making it bigger.” Aislynn could only nod as she waited for the magic inside of her to subside.

“I hope you're planning on doing something with her hair.” Thackery appeared behind them. “Because I'm sure Her Former Majesty would agree that it's currently a dead giveaway.”

“I think it's clear to anyone who doesn't have beans for a brain that I haven't finished yet,” Brigid retorted.

“Well, you'd better hurry.” He gestured to the carriage.

Brigid rolled her eyes and set about putting the finishing touches on the young girl's appearance.

Thackery stood next to Aislynn, hands shoved in his pockets. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Why didn't you just go straight to Madame Moira?”

“I don't know,” she said. It was an honest answer.

Thackery kicked the gravel, his eyebrows furrowed. Aislynn couldn't tell if he was angry or concerned. She wished she had something to say. Something that would bring back the Thackery who had been so kind to her that afternoon. Before she could think of anything, though, Brigid returned. The girl's face was clean and her hair was perfect—she could easily pass for a princess.

“When you get to town, you'll be looking for someone wearing a dark green cloak and a brown hat,” Brigid instructed her. “The hat will have a feather in it. Do you understand?” She handed the girl a canvas sack. “There's some food in there.” Brigid glanced back at Aislynn with a slight smile. “A jam tart or two. Your sister will be waiting for you.”

“Thank you.” It was the first time Aislynn had heard her speak. Her voice was thin but clear. She spoke to all of them, her eyes lingering on each face. Brigid patted her hand as Ford helped her into the carriage and closed the door.

“Best be on your way,” said Thackery.

“Wait!” Aislynn exclaimed, startling everyone, including herself. “I'm sorry, I just . . .” She reached through the coach window. “I'm Aislynn.”

“Gilly” was the shy response.

“Nice to meet you, Gilly.” She could practically feel Thackery rolling his eyes, but she ignored him and shook the girl's hand, which was dry and cold, her fingers as skinny as twigs. “Safe journey.”

Ford climbed up onto the carriage and clicked his tongue at the horses. A small arm emerged from the coach window, waving a solemn good-bye as the horses started to move.

Brigid let out an enormous sigh, running a hand through her wild hair, but Thackery just kicked up some more gravel and stalked off. Aislynn felt a strange ache in her chest. Disappointment, frustration . . . and something else she couldn't name.