by Wendy Wang
“Oh, Y’Ana, how beautiful,” Eryn breathed, twisting the rose this way and that, admiring the amazing detail. “Just beautiful.”
The girl’s eyes locked onto the rose and she beamed. Eryn picked up the egg cup and handed it to her. “What about this, Y’Ana? Can you do something with this?”
The child brushed her fingers over the blades of grass. She held it close to her nose and sniffed, then handed it back to Eryn. She shook her head no.
“All right.” Eryn placed the egg cup back on the tray and fingered the green, leafy branch she had plucked from one of the trees lining the property. “And this? Can you do something with this?” Eryn asked. Y’Ana took hold of the branch. She ran her fingers over the green leaves and smiled. Closing her eyes, the child’s brow furrowed with concentration. A moment later, the branch sprouted roots, twisting and curling, slithering along the ground they wrapped around one of Eryn’s wrists and Y’Ana’s wrist. Images began to fill Eryn’s brain. Pictures of Peter and Harbee arguing. Harbee losing control and striking Y’Ana across the face—hard. Tears lumped in Eryn’s throat. More images. Her last governess, a woman with the tight face, scolding Y’Ana for killing all the fish in the fishpond when she froze it solid. Y’Ana in a meadow with Peter—laughing, running, and picking wildflowers. Lightness and joy filled Eryn’s heart, inexplicably reminding her of how Trygg had used his calm on her. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling out loud when she witnessed Peter lifting the girl into the air and spinning her around.
Terror ripped through Eryn’s chest and her heart pounded against her ribs when Harbee’s angry face appeared in her mind. Eryn could almost feel Harbee’s tight grip on her arm, squeezing until her bones ached.
Eryn’s eyes flew open and the root released her. She rubbed her arm, where the memory of Harbee’s imagined touch still haunted her flesh. Y’Ana stared at her, pleading with her wordlessly, to not send her back. Eryn reached for Y’Ana and the girl scrambled into her arms. She had to help her. As much as Peter loved the child, he didn’t seem to see what was happening with Harbee. Eryn rocked the girl in her arms.
“It’s okay, I’m here now. I will do whatever it takes to protect you.” She understood what it meant. Her own father’s hands could be heavy, especially when he was angry or scared or impatient. She had to get through to Peter. Somehow, she had to make him see his blindness was killing his daughter.
******
Eryn lay in bed next to Y’Ana, waiting for the child to fall asleep. After twenty minutes or so, the child’s breathing finally slowed. Eryn stroked her short hair and kissed her on her cheek before she slid her arm from beneath Y’Ana.
As she stepped onto the balcony into the night air, the thick fragrance of rosemary, roses and lavender assaulted her senses. The moon shined bright, a silver coin gleaming in the sky. A soft knock on the door made her cross quickly. She glanced back at Y’Ana, making sure she hadn’t moved. Opening the door, she crept into the hallway where Trygg waited for her.
“Is she sleeping?”
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go.”
He followed her down the stairs, through the kitchens and out into the garden. Her fingertips brushed over the leaves of the plants. She plucked the head off of the lavender, bringing the flower to her nose.
“Do you want to tell me about the note?” she asked. He stopped in his tracks and glanced back at the house.
“I think I want to see the fishpond instead,” he said.
“I’ve seen the fishpond,” she said.
“Not like this, you haven’t,” he said. “Trust me.” The two hardest words in the entire world — trust me. At this point, she didn’t see how she had any choice.
“All right,” she said, sighing. “Show me.”
He walked close to her the whole way, the side of his arm brushing her shoulder. The mist around his mind was thick tonight. She kept stealing glances into his face to see if she could figure out what he was thinking but he kept his face neutral, making her wonder even more. Once he caught her looking, he smiled. She felt her cheeks heat but she didn’t look away.
“I’m sorry if I got the wrong idea,” she said.
“Wrong idea?” he asked.
“This afternoon when we were talking… And we were sitting so close, it felt like —” Like what? What did it feel like? Her teeth found her bottom lip and she bit it to stop the words from coming out of her mouth.
“You forgot. I know exactly what it felt like.” He stopped her, standing in front of her, towering over her. “It felt the same to me.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “It’s just I have a job to do where you’re concerned.”
“And what is that job?” She crossed her arms feeling exposed.
“To protect you at all costs. Those are my orders.”
“I don’t really care about Peter’s orders,” she said.
“They’re not Peter’s orders,” he said, glancing around. “Trees are listening.”
They’re not Peter’s orders. What did that mean? Whose orders — an image popped into her head. Cai. The orders had come from Cai. She thought carefully about her next words, because he was right, the trees were listening and they could not lie. They would have no choice but to show what they had witnessed.
“Okay, I understand. But I still have questions.”
He nodded.
“I think I have an idea,” she said and he quirked an eyebrow. “Come with me.” She led him to the very edge the property and opened the iron gate separating the mansion from an expanse of trees.
“Wait,” he said, pulling his baton from its holster. He stepped in front of her and scanned the woods.
“There’s nothing here that will hurt me,” she said. He stayed close, though, not letting her more than an arm’s length away. She stopped at the first tree that she came to and ran her fingers over the smooth bark of the silver maple tree. Towards the base of the tree, tiny little suckers grew. “Thank you,” she said to the tree. I promise I’ll take care of it.” She bent the sucker over until the small branch cracked and splintered. It took a moment of back and forth and circles for it to finally break away from its mother
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“It’s something I learned how to do from Y’Ana,” she said. “Hold out your arm.”
He chuckled and ran one hand across the back of his neck.
“What’s wrong? You’re not afraid, are you?” she teased him.
“Of course not. Nothing to be scared of.” He frowned and thrust his arm out. She held the branch lightly between her thumb and forefinger and closed her eyes. The energy of the trees ebbed and flowed through her and leaves rustled above her head. The first tendril of roots wrapped around her wrists, spreading up her forearm, and she heard his breathing change, become shallower.
“What is this?” he said softly.
“Shhh,” she said. “Close your eyes and trust me.” She smiled. His breathing slowed and deepened and she wasn’t sure if this was going to work since he had such a strong shield around his thoughts. After a few minutes, images flashed through her head and the connection was made. She decided to show him the note first, unsure if he had read it or not. She pictured herself lying in her bed, hugging a pillow to her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out as she read the letter from Cai. She heard him gasp.
“How are you doing this?” he whispered.
You don’t have to talk out loud, she thought, sending the message through the tree. All you have to do is allow your thoughts past your natural barrier and I’ll be able to hear you. Or you can think of something you’ve said or done. Or something you want me to see. An image filtered through her head and her breath caught in her throat as the scene played out in her mind. Trygg entered a large, warm room. Cai sat at a desk, writing.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Trygg said.
“I need you to get this message to my little cousin. Can you do that, soldier?” Cai asked.
“Of course I can, sir.”
Trygg watched as Cai melted wax over the fold and pressed his metal seal into it. A knock came from the door.
“Come,” Cai said.
“You’re late,” a tall, beautiful woman with red wavy hair said. She entered the room as if she owned it. “You were supposed to meet me twenty-five minutes ago.” She pulled a gold timepiece from her pocket and showed it to him.
“I am so sorry, my love. I apologize for my tardiness,” Cai said. He rose from his desk and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Eryn’s heart fluttered in her chest. Cai was in love. She didn’t know how to contain her happiness and it spilled over into the tree.
“I can feel you,” Trygg said. “You love the chief very much.”
“I do,” she said. “Will you show me more?”
Another image filled her head – Trygg in the forest, tracking her and her father. He stayed back, captivated by the way she grazed the bark of the trees with her hands, the way the trees responded to her – bending their branches slightly towards her. He thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen – that she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.
I thought you were going to kill me that day, she said without moving her lips.
I could never kill you, even if he ordered me to. You have to know that.
Cai sent you here to protect me?
Yes. He sent me to bring you home to him.
And if I go with you, will you stay with us or will you come back here? The connection broke. Trygg? No answer. Her eyes flew open. He had dropped his hand and was untangling the coil of roots from his arm.
“We should get back,” he said, glancing into the gloom of the forest. “We could have been followed.”
“All right,” she said, confused. “There’s just one thing I have to do first.”
“What?” He sounded impatient.
She knelt down and scraped away leaf litter. Her fingers dug into the earth, scooping it out until she dug a hole deep enough. She coaxed the roots of the little sapling into a ball and placed them into the ground against a mound of dirt, then filled in around it, packing it gently against its tiny base. She touched it and it quivered against her skin. The leaves and the canopy rustled.
“It’s just a tree limb,” he said. “Why bother?”
“I’ll remember that about the sea the next time I go to Casilladin.” She pushed past him and headed towards the mansion. He caught up with her but didn’t walk as close this time. They walked in silence all the way to her room and she kept her head down, not wanting to look at him.
When they reached her door and she finally found the courage to gaze into his handsome face, his pale eyes stared at her. She shifted her feet and reached for the doorknob, gripping it tight, to keep from touching him.
“Well,” she said. “Thank you for walking with me. It was – enlightening.”
“Yes, it was.” He stepped closer, making her crane her neck to look into his eyes. His body radiated warmth and comfort. Was he making her feel this way or did she feel it on her own? She just didn’t know what was real anymore. “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
“For what?” she breathed.
“For showing me your thoughts.”
“I’m sorry if my questions made you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” He leaned closer and she could feel his breath on her face. “You don’t make me uncomfortable at all.”
“You don’t make me uncomfortable, either,” she whispered. “In fact, when I’m with you I feel—” He closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers. Warmth flooded her chest and her stomach fluttered.
“I know what you feel, remember?” he whispered against her lips as he pulled away. “And if you asked me to stay, I will stay.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his arms snaked around her waist and he kissed her again, a little deeper this time. The cry of the child pulled her out of this haze and she let him go.
“Y’Ana needs me,” she said.
He dragged his lips gently over her cheeks then kissed her on the forehead, hugging her close. “Call for me if you need me,” he said into the top of her hair. She nodded and he stepped into the middle of the hallway, his eyes never leaving her as she closed the door.
The girl slept fitfully and Eryn slid into the bed next to her, stroking her hair, calming her.
“It’s okay, Y’Ana. I’m here,” she whispered against the girl’s cheek. After a few moments, Y’Ana settled down and Eryn lay back against the pillow. Her lips still tingled with the memory of his kiss, and she brushed her fingers over them and closed her eyes. When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of hearing his thoughts again—the feel of the tree roots wrapped around her arm, connecting her to him, the feel of his lips on hers, the warmth of his arms around her. Her ears filled with a roar and when she looked behind her, the forest burned. Trees screamed, their bark peeling away to reveal flesh and above them a child’s giggle. Eryn’s gaze peered towards the sky and Y’Ana dangled her fingers over them, spraying droplets of fire from her fingertips. Burning the world down.
Seven
From the corner of her eye, she could see Trygg standing near the doorway of the breakfast room. He never left her alone except when she slept, and he protected her by shielding her mind from Harbee’s dagger-like thoughts. She thought he might also be trying to protect her from Peter’s vain attempts at reading her, despite her own abilities, but she didn’t mind.
“Here, Y’Ana, let me help,” she said and peeled the shell of the child’s soft-boiled egg. Y’Ana scooped out the soft, yellow center of the egg and gobbled it up, leaving the white behind. Peter sauntered into the breakfast room, kissed his daughter on top of her head and brushed a hand across Eryn’s shoulders before taking a seat at the end of the table.
“How are my girls today?” Peter unfolded a napkin across his lap.
Eryn leaned in close to Y’Ana and whispered in her ear, “How are we today? Can you tell your papa?” Y’Ana nodded her head.
“I am very well,” Y’Ana said in a small, sweet voice. “How are you today?”
Peter pushed away from the table and knelt beside Y’Ana’s chair. He kissed her softly on the cheek. “I am incredible today, baby. I love hearing your voice.” He wrapped his arms around the girl and hugged her. His hand reached for Eryn. Grabbing onto her forearm, he gave it a gentle squeeze.
“What’s this?” Harbee asked as she entered the dining room.
Eryn saw the child stiffen in her father’s arms and pull away. He cupped his daughter’s cheek and kissed her again before getting to his feet.
“Y’Ana was just telling me how well she’s doing today,” Peter said, beaming. It amazed Eryn how oblivious he seemed to the dynamics between his daughter and her mother.
“Oh, really?” Harbee said, taking a seat across from Y’Ana. She unfolded the napkin and put it on her lap. A servant came in and placed an egg cup before her. Harbee snapped her fingers. “Is there no pork?” The young man bowed his head to her and disappeared through a door that led to the kitchens. “Well? Y’Ana? Aren’t you going to say hello to me this morning?”
Panic ran a cold finger down Eryn’s back, causing the hair on her neck to stand at attention. She leaned in close to Y’Ana and whispered, “Say ‘good morning, mommy’.” Y’Ana’s eyes were glued to her egg.
“Y’Ana?” her mother said, sounding irritated and impatient.
The girl flashed her eyes at her mother. “Good morning, Mommy,” she whispered.
Harbee smiled. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
Y’Ana picked at her egg but did not eat any more of her breakfast.
“So what is your plan today, Eryn,” Peter said as he cracked into a soft-boiled egg and dipped the corner of a piece of toast into the yolk.
“I was thinking we would work on our numbers today,” Eryn said. Harbee stared across the table at Eryn, her blue eyes darkened with hate.
“I wanted her to spend the day with me,”
Harbee said.
Eryn glanced at Peter for support. He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm, his eyes going back and forth between her and Harbee. Eryn scowled at him but he ignored it.
“Well,” Eryn began, keeping her voice steady. “That would be fine, too, if that’s what Y’Ana wants.” She put her hand on the girl’s back, hoping she would be comforted by her touch. “What would you like to do Y’Ana?”
Y’Ana stared up at Eryn, her eyes wide. She didn’t look at her mother. Eryn gave the girl a nod, to reassure her. A shuddering sigh went through the child, and she motioned Eryn closer.
“Numbers,” she whispered.
“You sure?” Eryn matched her whisper. Y’Ana nodded. Eryn looked up to find Peter with a half-grin on his face. What was so funny? Eryn bristled at the icy glare coming from Harbee. “Y’Ana wants to learn her numbers today. Perhaps tomorr—”
Harbee picked up her egg and flung it at Eryn, hitting her hard on the forehead. For a second, stars blinded her. After she could see again, she scraped the remnants of egg yolk and shell from her face. Peter had gotten up and restrained Harbee from launching across the table. Harbee’s fingers flickered with fire.
“Eryn, take Y’Ana to her room,” Peter said. Eryn scooped up the girl and rushed her into the hallway. Trygg led them upstairs to the nursery, casting his calm over them the whole way.
Eryn had already set half of the large room up as a classroom with a blackboard and several books she had scavenged from the mansion’s main library. She tried to put the girl down but Y’Ana clung to her. Trygg turned the lock and stood between Eryn and the door.
“It’s all right Y’Ana,” Eryn said. “You’re all right.” She stroked the girl’s hair, soothing her.
“But you’re not,” Trygg said, taking a closer look at the knot forming on her forehead. He brushed his fingers over it and she winced.
“Quite an egg of my own, huh?” Eryn laughed. She’d had worse. Her father was notorious for throwing things when he got angry and so many times, she had gotten in the way.
