by Wendy Wang
“Peter, this is not funny. This is serious.”
“Right,” Peter said, nodding, feigning a serious face. “What do you suggest?”
“They shouldn’t be alone together.”
“I see. So you want to spend every moment with Y’Ana?”
“Harbee hates me, so that’s not really an answer.” Eryn collapsed in the leather chair by Peter’s desk. “I was hoping you could say something to her.”
Peter straightened his back and went to the window. His broad shoulders stiffened. “What should I say, Mouse?”
“Maybe you could find out what’s happening between them,” she said. “Find out what she’s saying to the girl that upsets her so much.”
“You know she’s not quite right,” Peter said.
“Does Y’Ana really have to suffer for her mother’s…” She stopped, searching for the right word. “Instability?” Peter hated the label of crazy — Eryn had accidentally called Harbee crazy when she’d first met her six years ago, and Peter had snatched the book she’d been reading from her hands and ripped the pages out of it. She didn’t speak for a week after, and her father wanted to take a stick to Peter to find out what he’d done to her.
His shoulders began to shake and Eryn straightened in her chair. Was he going to punch through the glass? Her eyes searched the room for a quick exit.
A knock on the door made her heart jump into her throat. Peter turned around and faced her. He put his finger to his lips to hush her. She sighed. It looked like they were done discussing Y’Ana.
“Come,” Peter said.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Trygg said from behind her.
Eryn folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. There was no reason to give Peter something to be suspicious about so she took a deep breath and cleared her mind. When she looked up, Trygg was standing next to her chair. The quiet of his mind settled around her shoulders.
“Should I go?” she asked, getting to her feet.
“No.” A grin stretched Peter’s mouth. I’m not done with you, Mouse. Peter’s voice filled her head.
Good, she answered him. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her dress.
Peter walked around his desk and leaned against the front of it. “Lieutenant Weller — it’s my understanding you saw someone in the garden the other night?”
Eryn couldn’t stop her gaze from landing on Trygg. He stared straight into Peter’s face, as if she wasn’t even there. Her whole body went numb as he began to speak.
“Yes, sir,” Trygg said. “I believe it was Miss Hill.”
A chill skittered down her back and she shivered. How could he be doing this to her?
“Is this true, Eryn? Were you in the garden?”
“Uh—” Eryn’s chest flushed with heat and it crept up her neck into her face. She narrowed her eyes at Trygg. “Yes.” She nodded. “I took a short walk after putting Y’Ana to bed. There’s rosemary and lavender in the little kitchen garden and they smelled so good coming in through the window.” She locked her eyes on Peter’s. “It reminded me of…” She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. “It reminded me of when I was little and we would play hide n’ seek in the dark. Remember?”
Peter nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hmmm. Green eyes.”
“Yes. And you and Cuh—” She stopped herself just before saying his name. “You would come looking for me.”
“And you were always hidden among the herbs and tomatoes.”
She shrugged. “It always smelled so good. So, I went for a walk. Is there a problem with that?”
A shadow crossed Peter’s face and she could feel Trygg’s eyes on the back of her head. If only she could get into his thoughts and figure out why he was trying so hard to betray her. Maybe she couldn’t trust him. Maybe she couldn’t trust anyone, ever again.
“Of course not. My main concern is your safety.” Peter rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around her. “You are, after all, my family.” He kissed her forehead and she let herself melt against him. For just a moment, the Peter she knew and loved as a child was back. “You can’t wander off alone again, though.”
“But Peter—” She pulled out of his arms and looked him in the eye. His fingers found her mouth, resting softly against her lips.
“Now, Mouse, please don’t argue. I am assigning Lieutenant Weller here to be your personal security guard.”
“Peter,” she protested. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much? There are guards everywhere.”
“There are people who would hurt you and Y’Ana just to get at me. This is as much for her as it is for you. You don’t want anything to happen to Y’Ana, do you?” Peter brushed his thumb over her cheek.
“Of course not,” she said.
Peter smiled and nodded. “Good.”
“What are we going to do about the other thing,” Eryn said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” Peter patted her shoulder but he may as well have been patting her on the head. Like she was a child. “Lieutenant Weller — you have your orders.”
The Lieutenant bowed at the waist. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Escort my little cousin here, wherever she wishes to go.”
“Does that mean I can leave the mansion?” Eryn said.
Peter pursed his lips. “Yes. As long as you’re escorted. But I don’t want Y’Ana leaving the grounds.”
“Of course. Thank you,” she said, excitement thrumming beneath her skin, making it tingle.
Peter clamped onto her wrist and pulled her close. He twisted her arm back at the elbow, and his face darkened. Sharp pain ripped through her arm and she yelped but he ignored her cry. “You’re welcome, Mouse, but just remember this is a privilege. If you do anything to go against me, anything at all, you will lose more than just your privileges. Do you understand me?”
“Yuh-yes,” she cried, tears squeezing through her half-closed eyes.
“Good.” He let her go and she hugged her arm to her chest, cradling it. He kissed her quickly on the forehead. “Go on, now. I’ve got work to do.”
Eryn slipped around the leather chair and stumbled out into the hallway, with Trygg following close behind. She felt his hand on her back as he guided her away from Peter’s office and through the maze of hallways until he reached a small room. He ushered her inside and locked the door behind them.
“May I take a look?” he said softly.
“I— I’m fine.” She glared at him, still hugging her arm close to her chest.
“I have a little Earth Kael in me. Maybe I can help.” His eyes locked onto hers and she felt her breath catch in her throat. Warm comfort washed over her and through her. The pain in her arm dulled.
“What are you doing to me?” she breathed.
“Calming you,” he said, reaching for her arm. “It’s all right, I won’t hurt you.”
“Is that the Earth Kael in you?” she asked, letting him take her wrist gently into his hand.
“No. Water Kael,” he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. “You’ve never met another Water Kael, have you?”
“No,” she said, her voice small and distant as if it belonged to someone else. Her whole body felt light, as if at any moment she might float up to the ceiling. He closed his eyes and wrapped his fingers around her elbow. Warmth spread throughout her arm and beads of sweat gathered on Trygg’s brow. Her knees buckled and Trygg caught her under her arms and knees, scooping her up before she could fall to the floor.
“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting them both down on a small sofa near the window. She leaned against his chest, unable to move, and he stroked her back. The fog of comfort lifted, and after a moment she was able to sit up on her own.
“What happened?” she asked, putting her head in her hands, feeling a little woozy.
“I overdid it a little with the feelings of painlessness I think,” he said, giving her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”
“What else can
Water Kaels do?” She her head and realized her legs were still draped over his lap. She glanced into his face. He was so close. Something about the sharp cut of his jaw and his smooth skin made her want to touch him. To breathe him in. Such beautiful hazel eyes. The thought escaped his head and her breath caught in her throat. He was talking about her. His eyes flashed to her lips.
“Uh—” he started. “We feel things.”
“What things,” she whispered.
“What other Kaels are feeling.” He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Sort of like you can hear thoughts.”
“So you know what I’m feeling right now?” Her stomach fluttered.
“I always know what you’re feeling,” he said. His breath smelled spicy, like cinnamon, and he was so close. If she just reached out, she could kiss him.
“And what is that?” she asked.
He took a deep breath and sat back, putting some distance between them. “You are feeling confused. You think I saved you and it’s clouding your judgment a little.”
“Oh.” She slid off his lap onto the couch, sitting on the edge of the overly soft cushion. She looked down at her wrist. It no longer hurt, but there were still greenish marks beneath her pale skin. Bruises shaped like finger tips. They were fading, though. Whatever he had done, it had skipped the black and blue stage completely. She brushed her hand over the skin. “But you did save me,” she whispered.
“No. I didn’t. No one can save you, Eryn. Not me. Not —” He stopped himself from saying a name, but she guessed if he could have said it aloud, he would have said the chief. “No one but you,” he said. She felt him lift a few strands of hair from her back and drop it again.
“Right,” she said. Her shoulders slumped forward a little. How would she ever be able save herself? She wasn’t strong enough. She was just a mouse. Everyone said so. Had been saying so for as long as she could remember. Maybe she should have stood up to Peter the day they captured her. She would be dead now if she had, but it would’ve at least been an honest death. “We should go. I should check on Y’Ana and Harbee.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’m at your disposal.”
“I think I would like to go for a walk tonight after Y’Ana’s asleep,” she announced and stood up.
“Yes, ma’am.” He got to his feet and followed her out into the maze of corridors.
Five
“Y’Ana,” Eryn said. Do you want to build something?” Eryn held up one of the wooden blocks she’d found on the shelves in Y’Ana’s nursery. The room was large, two glass panes doors leading to a balcony that overlooked the kitchen gardens below. The scent of rosemary and lavender, sage and thyme wafted up into the room. The girl shook her head and continued to play with two of her dolls, Rietta and Goran. Eryn watched as the little girl made the dolls speak to each other, even though the girl didn’t say a word. A loud knock came on the door and before Eryn could rise from the floor to open it, the door slammed open. Harbee Fain stepped inside. Her long, white-blond hair hung to the middle of her back and there was something about her pale green eyes that made Eryn shudder.
“I want my daughter,” Harbee said. She stared vacantly at Y’Ana. The child turned her back on her mother and continued to play.
“All right,” Eryn said. “Y’Ana, your mama is here. Let’s get ready to go with her, okay?” Y’Ana fidgeted with the dolls but didn’t move towards getting up.
“Y’Ana,” Harbee said, her tone sing-songy. “It’s time to go paint. Don’t you want to paint with me?” Y’Ana continued to play with her dolls, striking Goran, the tall thin doll, against Rietta, a small baby doll, on the head. Eryn winced.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to paint today,” Eryn said.
“I don’t particularly care what she wants to do,” Harbee said. “It’s my time with her. Y’Ana, get up.”
Y’Ana’s tiny shoulders slumped forward a little and she dropped the dolls onto the floor. A moment later, she pushed herself to her feet and went to her mother. Harbee grabbed her arm. “Come on, Y’Ana,” Harbee said, impatiently jerking on the child’s arm. “It’s time to paint.”
The door closed behind them, and Eryn went to the glass doors and stepped out onto the balcony. A few minutes later, Y’Ana and Harbee emerged beneath the portico, hand in hand. Harbee wound her way across the garden pathways to a small outbuilding with lots of windows. Her studio. She waited until they were almost halfway there. Y’Ana threw a glance over her shoulder, looking back at the balcony where Eryn stood. Eryn could almost feel the girl’s eyes connect with her own, begging her to come help her.
I’ll come soon, Eryn thought, hoping the child would catch it and hold onto it. Since it appeared Peter was going to do nothing, she would have to act on her own.
******
Gravel crunched beneath Eryn’s shoes as she wound her way through carved hedgerows. The thick perfume of roses filled her head and she stopped for a moment to run her fingers across the silky petals. When she got to Harbee’s studio, she found Harbee sitting by one of the windows in front of an easel. Harbee stared vacantly through the pane of glass.
“Where’s Y’Ana?”
Harbee didn’t look up at her.
“Harbee.” Still no response. Eryn stalked over to her and shook her arm hard. “Harbee! Where is Y’Ana?”
Harbee’s eyes settled on Eryn’s fingers, which were still wrapped around her arm. “She was being bad so I sent her away.”
“You sent her away? Where?” Panic wrapped its fingers around Eryn’s neck and gave a squeeze. Harbee finally looked up, her pale eyes vacant. Her lack of expression made Eryn drop her hands and recoil. It was as if she was there but not there. Eryn took a deep breath and used a calmer tone. “Harbee. Do you remember where you sent her?”
“I told her to go gather some thorny switches. I told her she needed a good whipping.” Her high, ethereal voice sent a shiver over Eryn’s shoulders. A good whipping? What was wrong with her?
“All right,” Eryn said, keeping her voice steady. “I’ll find her and make sure she gets what she deserves. Will that be all right with you?”
Harbee’s shoulders dropped and a hint of a smile played at the corners of her lips. “Yes. That would be good.” Harbee sounded relieved not to have to dole out the harsh punishment she had promised. Eryn didn’t know what that meant. But she didn’t care, either.
“All right, that’s what I’ll do then.” Eryn backed away from Harbee. She slipped quickly through the door and out into the garden. “Y’Ana!” she called after the girl. Eryn followed paths and hedges, calling and calling. What did she expect the girl to do? She barely spoke as it was. Did she really think the girl was going to stand up and wave her hand and say, “I’m here”? Eryn saw a tiny, red-leafed maple planted in a serene corner of the garden, overlooking a fishpond—one of the few trees in the entire garden. Rushing to it, she placed her hand on the bark, closed her eyes, and waited for the connection. Images began to fill her mind almost immediately. The tree communicated not only with her but with all the other plants in the garden. It took a moment but then finally Eryn saw her, her white-blond hair a halo in the bright sunlight. She was stooped over on her knees near one of the garden paths near the bush roses on the west side of the garden. Eryn opened her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the tree. Its leaves rustled in response. Eryn headed towards the place the tree had shown her.
“Y’Ana?” Eryn said softly as she approached the girl on the path. Next to the child were four long branches laced with thorns and leaves. The girl’s hands showed no signs of blood or injury and Eryn wasn’t sure how the child had cut them away from the rose bushes. She knelt next to the child. The little girl’s face was scrunched with an intense gaze.
“Y’Ana, are you all right?” Eryn asked.
The girl’s fingertips burned with tiny drops of fire. Eryn had never seen such tiny pearls of fire before. Y’Ana flicked her fingers, spraying the fire to the ground.
It took a moment for Eryn to realize exactly what she was seeing. Little black ants were on fire, curling up and dying. And Y’Ana was killing them.
“Y’Ana, stop sweetie,” Eryn said gently as she placed her hands on top of the child’s. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna send you back to her today. And by tomorrow, she will have forgotten.” The girl glanced up, her green eyes locking on to Eryn’s.
“Promise?” Y’Ana said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Promise.” Eryn nodded. She slipped her hand into Y’Ana’s and helped the girl to her feet. She kicked the rose branches into the bed and led the girl back towards the house.
Six
“Y’Ana,” Eryn said. She sat cross-legged across from the child. Between them was a glass platter with a variety of things: a small bowl with some water, metal coins with her now-dead aunt’s face on it, an egg cup with some grass growing in it, and a wooden tree branch. “Y’Ana, can you show me what you can do with this,” Eryn said, pushing the bowl of water towards the girl. Y’Ana leaned forward and stuck her finger inside the bowl, swirling the water around. She looked up at Eryn, a questioning expression on her face. “What else can you do?”
Y’Ana’s eyebrows tugged together and she looked back down at the bowl, studying it. The child held her fingers above the water, closed her eyes and began to wave each one separately from the other. The water began to ripple and flow upward towards the girl’s fingers until it stretched. Once the water touched her fingers, it turned to ice, frozen solid.
“Very good, Y’Ana,” Eryn said smiling. The child looked up at her then ducked her head, her elfin face turning pink. “What can you do with these?” Eryn pushed a gold and silver coin towards Y’Ana and she took the larger coin into her small hand. Flipping it over, her brow creased with concentration. After a moment a little smile curved her lips, and she took both coins and put them between her palms and closed her eyes. For a long moment, light glowed red between her hands and when she opened them, she presented Eryn with a rose made of gold with silver-tipped petals.
