Stray (28 page)

It was a silly thing to think about, but as Aislynn rubbed Cinnamon's head, she imagined the kind of dress she'd choose if she had a choice. It wouldn't be blue or purple. It wouldn't need a corset or a wimple. No, what she wanted was a dress the color of Thackery's eyes, one that was soft and warm and fit her perfectly. She wished.

Like a morning glory opening its face to the sky, her magic revealed itself, strong and steady. At first she wanted to push it away, to swallow it down, but she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. To let it wash over her. The air crackled and warmed around her. She felt at peace, clear-headed and new as if she had slept for days. Opening her eyes, she found that the sturdily patched dress had been replaced by soft linen in the deepest green. She spread her arms wide. The sleeves now draped past her wrists, and the waist nipped in around her ribs and hips. Standing, much to Cinnamon's annoyance, she discovered that the skirt skimmed the ground perfectly, and that embroidered along the hem was a curling vine with tiny thorns. Twirling, she ended up facing the door of the cottage, where Muriel was now standing.

“Impressive,” she said, and this time she was not speaking to Cinnamon.

“Thank you.”

“You have quite the natural ability.”

“It doesn't usually do what I want,” Aislynn said, and Muriel smiled.

“Yes, there is that tendency, isn't there? You just need practice. And a good teacher.” With a sigh, Muriel looked up at the stars now filling the sky. “But those days are gone.”

“Those days?” asked Aislynn.

“Maybe things will change,” Muriel said to Cinnamon, who whined and tilted her head. “I know, I know, they don't just change on their own. But maybe . . .” She looked at Aislynn. “Maybe they'll be strong enough.”

“Who? And strong enough for what?”

But Muriel had already entered the cottage and closed the door, leaving Aislynn and her unanswered questions outside in the autumn night.

E
lanor and Rhys returned early the next morning. Their arguing reached the cottage before they did. Aislynn was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, her hands and apron covered in flour, when their voices floated in through the window.

“I don't like the plan,” Elanor was saying.

“Then make it better,” said Rhys, and Aislynn could practically hear Elanor glare.

“I would if I could,” she retorted, “but we don't have the time.”

“It's too dangerous.”

Brigid! Racing to the door, Aislynn flung it open. Four pairs of tired eyes looked up at her. “She's braver than you think,” said Thackery with a smile.

Aislynn's heart somersaulted into her throat.

“Hello,” he said.

Aislynn wanted to throw herself into his arms, but before she could do or say anything, Brigid grabbed her and started weeping.

“Ford's dead,” she whispered, and everything inside Aislynn stopped.

“What . . . what happened?” she asked. The words felt as if they were coming from someone else.

“Let's go inside,” Rhys said gently, leading Brigid up the steps.

Muriel was waiting with hot cups of tea and a tray of bookbinder bread, as if she had been expecting them. Brigid was helped to the overstuffed chair, while Aislynn joined Thackery on the bench. Rhys hitched his shoulder up against the wall, and Elanor paced in the doorway. No one ate.

“They found him halfway down the road.” Everyone in the room jumped as Elanor threw her fist into the wall. “Stabbed in the heart and wrapped in briars.” Elanor hit the wall again. Aislynn could see the blood on her knuckles.

“Josetta must have been sending a message,” said Aislynn, swallowing her guilt. “That's her signature.”

“It wasn't Josetta,” Elanor's voice was flat.

“Josetta would have taken him back to the Midlands,” said Thackery softly, running a finger over his own knuckles. “She would have made an example out of him and shown her people what she does to those who run away.”

“But the brambles—”

“The brambles?” Rhys sounded confused.

“It's what Josetta does,” insisted Aislynn. “She marks her victims with briars from her forest. Like she did with Maris's shoe. . . .” But as Elanor and Rhys continued to look at her with the same doubting expression, Aislynn realized that they didn't think Josetta was involved at all.

“The royals do believe that,” said Brigid, her eyes red but dry. “They also believe that Josetta is responsible for any girl who strays from the Path.”

“She recruits them to be a part of her army,” said Aislynn lamely. She felt so foolish.

“There is no army,” said Rhys. “Not that kind, at least.”

“Josetta fears outsiders,” Elanor interjected. “After her husband was killed, she barricaded herself in a tower of her castle where only her most trusted subjects can go. None of us have seen her in years. She'd never allow royals inside the palace, let alone recruit them.” Tracing an imaginary pattern on the wall, Elanor shrugged. “And if there were maidens emerging from the forest to serve her, trust me, I'd know.”

Horror rattled through Aislynn. Maris wasn't the first girl to be dismissed as a stray, and it seemed unlikely that she would be the last. “Then where did they all go?”

There was no answer.

If Josetta wasn't behind this, then who was going to the trouble of convincing others that she was? And what were they doing to the girls that everyone believed had strayed?

Aislynn remembered the conversation she had overheard in the garden. She had thought once before that Madame Moira might have been working with Josetta, but if the Wicked Queen wasn't to blame, how did the headmistress fit in? And why was Westerly involved? None of it made sense.

“It could be connected to the mirror,” said Brigid, but even she seemed doubtful. “But until we know more, the only thing we can do is help you get it back.”

“What about Linnea? Has there been any new information about her?”

“She'll be married next week,” said Brigid softly, and Aislynn shuddered. She couldn't just leave the monarch princess at the mercy of someone like Westerly. Linnea had no idea how dangerous he was.

It wasn't until Thackery gently uncurled her fingers that Aislynn realized she was clenching her fists. Half moons from her nails marked her palms.

“Well,” she said with false confidence, “I guess I should leave right away.”

“We,” Thackery corrected, linking his fingers with hers. His hand was surprisingly soft, but strong and warm. “
We
should leave right away.”

“No.” Aislynn rose. “I can't ask you to help me.”

“So don't ask.” Thackery stood as well, his hand still entwined with hers.

“You've helped us,” Brigid reminded her. “Let us return the favor.”

“Don't go.” The plea came from Muriel, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Her skin was as white as milk. “Bad things are coming.”

“Come on, Muriel.” Rhys placed his arms around her shoulders. “I think that's enough excitement for today.” Her head bobbing like a child's toy, she allowed herself to be led from the room.

It wasn't until Rhys returned that Elanor leaned toward Aislynn and said, “Thackery says you're braver than we think. Are you?”

R
hys unrolled a map along the floor. It was far more detailed than the map Aislynn had seen at Nerine Academy—the Midlands and Josetta's castle were both clearly labeled. Kneeling on the floor next to him, Aislynn studied it closely.

Rhys pointed to a spot near the border of the Eastern and Northern Kingdoms. “That's where we are.” He then dragged his finger to Erysimum, in the Eastern Kingdom. “That's where Linnea will be in a month.”

Brigid nodded. “She'll be attending the winter ball there.”

“And why can't we just go to her home?” Elanor asked.

“She's a monarch princess,” Aislynn explained. “The palace in Eremurus will be well guarded, with her fairy godmother, adviser, and Westerly all watching her carefully.”

“A ball is not as carefully protected,” Brigid added. “There's a greater chance she'll be able to sneak away, if only for a moment.”

Aislynn looked at the map. She found Nepeta and, without thinking, placed her fingers over it. Her parents. They must be heartbroken, convinced she had strayed. Her own heart ached thinking about it.

“What's there?” Thackery asked, kneeling down next to her.

“Nothing important,” she said, pulling her hand away. Shaking her head, she tried to focus her attention on the distance between Muriel's home and Erysimum. A week? Maybe two?

But Thackery persisted. “Your home?”

“It was,” she admitted, thinking of all the afternoons she had spent in the garden with her father, walking with him as he identified roses for her. Or sitting in the bedroom as her mother got dressed, hoping that one day she would be just as graceful. Or those mornings with Tahlia, covered in flour, safe in the warmth of the kitchen.

“Come home . . .” came a whisper from the back of her mind. “Come home.” Aislynn's dream returned to her. The overgrown windows, the dusty floors, the sleeping palace.

Cinnamon was curled up in front of the fire. What if this dream was like the others? Not truly a dream, but a premonition. A command.

Suddenly it was very clear. She was supposed to go home.

“I should go to Nepeta,” said Aislynn.

The others, who had been engaged in a conversation of their own, paused to stare at her.

“Why would we do that?” asked Elanor, looking down at the map. “That would add at least two days to the journey, maybe more.”

“It's her home,” said Thackery, but Aislynn shook her head.

“No. I mean, it is.” Aislynn could still smell the dust on the furniture, could still feel the wind through the house, could still hear the whispers. “But I think I'm supposed to go there.”

If her parents allowed her inside. Aislynn tried to imagine what they would think when they saw her. She was a stray. They were no longer allowed to acknowledge her at all.

“From Nepeta, we could get to Erysimum in a day,” Brigid pointed out. “Less if we found some horses.”

“Fine!” Elanor threw up her hands. “Make the trip longer. Linnea is your concern, not mine. I still don't know how we're going to get Aislynn into the ball undetected.”

“I don't have to go inside,” said Aislynn. “I just have to get to the balcony without anyone seeing me.” She swallowed, wishing she could forget the feeling of Westerly's hand around her throat. “And find a way to get Linnea outside.” For the first time, a terrible thought crossed her mind. “How can we make sure she brings the mirror?” Surely Linnea would have discovered the mirror by now, and she would have no reason to bring it to the ball. Hopefully she had hidden it away in a drawer somewhere, maybe even forgotten about it.

“I can take care of that,” offered Brigid. Her hands were crossed in her lap primly.

“How?” asked Elanor.

“I'll send her a letter.” Her easy solution drew blank stares from everyone.

“What if Westerly finds it?” asked Aislynn.

“It won't be the first letter that Linnea has hidden from him,” said Brigid drily. “I know how to be discreet.”

Elanor cleared her throat. “So you'll make sure she knows to be on the balcony with the mirror?”

“I can't guarantee that she'll be there.” Brigid turned to Aislynn. “But I can ask.”

No doubt the monarch princess had been informed that Aislynn had strayed. There was no way to know how she'd react to Brigid's request. Aislynn wanted to hope that she would help, but she also remembered how Linnea had reacted when Aislynn suggested that she go against Adviser Lennard's order to give her father's ring to Westerly. Linnea might be unwilling to help a stray, even one who had once been a friend.