by Wendy Wang
“Do you want me to heal it?” he asked.
“No, it’ll be fine.” She called up a smile. His eyes lingered on her face and a thrill went through her. She wanted to kiss him again, but thought better of it with Y’Ana here. The last thing she needed was for Peter to be concerned about her loyalty to him.
“I think we should get started on our lessons. What do you think, Y’Ana? You ready to learn some numbers?” Eryn asked, trying to sound as chipper as she could. Y’Ana nodded. “All right, then,” Eryn said. “You take a seat at the little desk and we’ll get started.”
Y’Ana smiled and did as she was told. Trygg reached for Eryn’s arm. Pulling her towards him, he planted a soft kiss on the knot forming on her head. He cast a feeling of painlessness towards her and the throb in her forehead dulled. She gave him a smile and her heart skipped a beat. Facing Harbee and dealing with Peter were hard enough, but at least she wasn’t in this alone.
******
At breakfast the next morning, Harbee behaved a little better and Eryn wondered if Peter had said something to her. Harbee took a piece of toast and buttered it.
“Y’Ana,” Harbee said, scooping some jam on to her buttered bread. “Would you like to paint with me today?” Eryn’s skin prickled. Harbee’s sing-songy voice and her request sounded a little too rehearsed. Y’Ana glanced up at Eryn. Her green eyes widened.
“It’s okay if you want to go paint with your mother,” Eryn said, brushing her hands over Y’Ana’s hair to reassure her. The child stared at her mother, unblinking, and Eryn wished, not for the first time, that she could penetrate the little girl’s thoughts. Could Trygg read the child’s deepest feelings? She would have to ask him when they were alone again.
“Don’t you want to paint with me, Y’Ana?” Harbee asked smiling sweetly, yesterday’s events evidently forgotten.
Peter walked into the breakfast room and kissed Harbee on the top of the head. “How are my favorite girls today?” he asked, sitting at the end of the table. Harbee’s eyes were locked on Y’Ana, and she said nothing, as if Peter did not exist.
“Harbee is just asking Y’Ana if she wants to paint,” Eryn said, placing her arm across the back of Y’Ana’s chair. Harbee’s eyes shifted from her daughter to Eryn, flattening into a stare full of daggers.
“Well, that sounds wonderful, sweetheart,” Peter said, unfolding his napkin and placing it across his lap. “I think it would be lovely if you spent the morning with your mama. I know she missed you yesterday.” Eryn glanced down at her plate, so Peter wouldn’t see her disgust. Eryn took a deep breath.
“I think you should go, Y’Ana.” The child stared up at her again, her eyes a little wet. “Your mama loves you very much.”
“Yes, she does,” Peter said. “And she’s very sorry for scaring you yesterday. Aren’t you, Harbee?” He glanced at Harbee but she said nothing. Eryn tried to read her, but Trygg was casting a protective barrier, making it nearly impossible. Eryn glanced towards him against the wall. His hands hung at his side and his eyes stared straight ahead, as if he was paying no attention to the room. A sigh shuddered through the girl and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Eryn leaned in and kissed Y’Ana on the head. “I’ll come get you at lunch time,” Eryn whispered. Y’Ana nodded, accepting her fate.
******
“All right,” Eryn said as she approached Harbee’s painting studio. “I know you want to protect me but I need you to stop for now. I need to hear Harbee’s thoughts before we get there.”
“I know, she just — I don’t like to see you hurt,” he said quietly and brushed a finger down her arm. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“I understand, but Y’Ana’s safety is more important than my feelings,” Eryn said. Trygg nodded and she felt his calm, soothing energy retreat from around her. Harbee’s thoughts hit her like a dagger through the heart and Eryn’s hand drifted to her breastbone. You’re supposed to love me not that other girl. Y’Ana was crying.
“Trygg,” Eryn said, picking up her pace.
“I know,” he said. They rushed to the studio door and found it locked. Eryn banged her palm against the door.
“Harbee! Harbee, open the door!” No response. Y’Ana wailed louder. Trygg pulled his baton from its holster and pointed at the lock. It sparked and Eryn tried to turn the knob but the door didn’t move.
“It’s still locked,” Eryn said.
“I don’t understand.” Trygg said.
“Metal is one of her affinities.” Eryn scanned the portico for something she could use. A laurel tree had been planted in a large planter at the end of the portico. Eryn hurried to the tree, placing her hand on it. The tree’s roots sprouted through the planter, cracking it and snaking along the ground, pushing their way underneath the door frame. Metal clinked on the other side of the door. The roots pushed through the opening at the top, wrapping around the door. The roots of the tree began to withdraw towards the laurel, pulling the door with it. It popped from its hinges, the door jamb cracking.
“Get back.” Trygg pulled her away from the door clattering against the brick porch towards the Laurel tree.
Eryn rushed inside to find Y’Ana curled in a ball, lying on the floor, sucking her thumb. Harbee growled at them as they drew closer, her eyes wild, her fingers glowing with fire. Trygg pushed calm through the room, soothing Harbee and Y’Ana. Eryn knelt next to the girl.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Eryn said softly. “I’m here.” Y’Ana didn’t move. Harbee’s face became expressionless and her eyes vacant. She ran her hand over the girl’s back—still no response. She picked the child up, cradling her in her arms. “Let’s go,” Eryn said.
“Here, let me take her,” Trygg said. “I’ll help her,” he added when Eryn gave him her look of doubt. They headed back up to the mansion, Eryn leading the way to Peter’s office. Ignoring the guardsman, she knocked once and pushed her way into his office. Peter was talking with two guardsmen over a map on his desk. He looked up, confusion in his eyes, a frown etching his forehead with deep lines.
“I don’t care if Harbee is her mother, she can no longer spend time alone with Y’Ana,” Eryn said. She crossed her arms and looked to him defiantly.
“The mouse roars,” Peter said, sounding amused until his eyes settled on Y’Ana in Trygg’s arms. “What happened?” He rushed around his desk, pulled Y’Ana out of Trygg’s arms and held her close to him. She began to cry again and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. He bounced up and down with her and rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. “It’s all right, sweetie. Papa’s here.”
“Harbee is what happened.” Eryn’s voice grew louder. “She locked the door to her studio and we couldn’t get in. Trygg even used his baton and it didn’t work. She must’ve commanded the lock not to open.” She glanced at Trygg. “When we did finally get in, Y’Ana was on the floor curled up, unresponsive, and Harbee was screaming over her. Her fingers were on fire, Peter. This has got to stop. Before she seriously injures this child.”
“I can’t stop her from seeing her own child,” Peter said, stroking his daughter’s hair.
“You can make sure she’s not alone with her,” Eryn said.
“Is that what you want? You want to be with Y’Ana twenty-four hours a day?” Peter asked.
“What I want is for her to be safe when she spends time with her mother. Whether it’s me or a guardsman or you, somebody has to be there to intervene if she loses control.” Eryn put her hands on her hips.
Peter started to pace, planting his lips against the top of his daughter’s head. Eryn’s stomach twisted. Whatever delusions Peter might have, however close he might have hovered to the line of being a monster, he loved his daughter.
“Fine.” Peter said. “She will be supervised from now on. Either by you or by me or by a guardsman. Y’Ana will not be alone with her.”
“Thank you,” Eryn said.
“Don’t thank me yet.” Peter said. “If anything happens to Y’Ana in your care,
I will hold you responsible, little Mouse.”
A cold finger touched her heart. Yes, even monsters loved their children — and that meant protecting them, even if it meant killing the whole village.
“I will do everything I can to keep her safe, Peter. That is my promise to her. Not to you. To her.”
“It’s good to see you use your voice, Mouse,” Peter said. “Just take care how you use it.”
A cold finger traced a warning down her back. “Yes,” Eryn said. “I will.”
From the corner of her eye, Trygg shifted slightly towards her and she wondered if it came to it, would he really take on Peter? She prayed to Jerugia she never found out.
******
Eryn stayed with Y’Ana until she fell asleep. She kissed the child on top of the head before closing the door to the nursery and stepping out into the hallway. Trygg leaned against the far wall, waiting for her.
He led the way to the kitchen garden, to the twig gazebo. This time, when he sat on the bench he pulled her onto his lap, hugging her tight. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips seeking him out. His fingers dug into her back, pulling her so close she thought their skin might merge.
“I think we should work on getting you out,” he said, pulling his lips to her ear. “The commander’s too unreliable and dangerous. Harbee hates you and her erratic behavior makes her even more dangerous than him.”
“She hates me?” Eryn said. She pulled back a little so she can look him in the face.
“Yes. It’s the most unadulterated hate I think I’ve ever felt coming from someone.”
“I knew she didn’t like having me around. Her thoughts are filled with ‘I wish she would go away’ but I’ve never heard her use the word hate.”
“She doesn’t strike me as someone aware of her deepest feelings.” Trygg shrugged. “But it is pure hatred and it makes her dangerous to you both.”
“Hatred,” she whispered and ran her fingers through her hair, scrubbing her scalp with her fingernails. “Trygg, I can’t leave Y’Ana. Especially since Peter won’t do anything to stop Harbee.”
“We can take her with us.”
“Sure,” she laughed. “And if there wasn’t already a war, Peter would definitely start one. He would hunt us to the end of the world.”
“He would never find us. I’d make sure of it. It might be the best thing for her. For you, too.”
“Peter loves her. He would never hurt her. I know you and Cai have this crazy idea, but —”
“It’s not a crazy idea. Peter’s motives are deceptive, especially when it comes to his daughter.”
“What do you mean?”
“She has three affinities, right?”
“Four.”
“Four? Really?”
“Yes,” Eryn said. “She doesn’t seem to have any affinity for earth, but she’s very young. It could still emerge.”
Trygg nodded his head. “He’s not above manipulating her. He does it every day.”
“I’ve never seen him directly manipulate her.”
“I have.”
“When?”
Trygg sighed. “Before you came. He used to give her things to kill with her fire fingers. Bugs. Frogs. He’s trying to make her not feel anything when she kills something.”
Eryn’s breath caught in her throat. The ants. That’s why the child had killed the ants. Partly because of her mother, but partly because of her father.
“Jerugia’s crown,” Eryn breathed. “I’ve seen her do it, too. I stopped her from killing ants on the path one day. And she definitely felt something, by the look on her face.”
“Anger, maybe – but not remorse,” he said. “I don’t know if the damage done can be reversed. Even if she is young.”
“I won’t leave her.”
“Not even for me?” His voice softened and his fingertips brushed over her cheek.
“That’s not fair,” she said.
“It’s not fair to make me watch the way he treats you, either. If he hurts you again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“He doesn’t mean to do it.”
“Stop. Just listen to yourself. He is the closest thing to evil I have ever seen and you’re making excuses for him. At least Harbee — there’s a reason. But the commander…”
“I’m not disagreeing with you.” She closed her eyes, thinking of her father. “He used to be different. A long time ago. He used to be — kind and funny and I loved him like a brother.”
“And now? Do you still love him?”
Her head tipped forward and touched his shoulder. “I don’t know how I feel about him. But I care very much for Y’Ana and I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“I know,” he said. He stroked her hair. “It’s just so hard to watch you. He could, and would, snap your neck without blinking. And I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”
“Why? We barely know each other.” Her heart twisted in her chest and her stomach fluttered.
“I know you. Your heart. How much love you’re capable of. How brave you are, even though you feel you’re not.” He tipped her chin up and cupped her cheek. “I love you, Eryn.”
Panic squeezed her throat shut and she squeaked. Like a stupid little mouse.
“What are you thinking?” he asked cautiously.
Eryn swallowed hard and whispered, “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be.” His lips brushed hers. “I will never hurt you.” He kissed her deeply, longingly. The kiss left her breathless and she wasn’t sure where her feelings began and his feelings ended. They melded together, circling them. He shifted her hips towards him.
“Wait,” she said, softly drawing away from him.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I got caught up in the moment.”
“No, it’s my fault,” she whispered. He kissed her cheeks and her eyes, and held his lips to her forehead for a long time.
“None of this is your fault,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she said. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close.
“That’s enough of that,” he said softly. “No more saying you’re sorry. All right?”
Eryn nodded. “We should be getting back.” She slid off of his lap and they stepped onto the path through the kitchen garden. He intertwined his fingers with hers, kissing her knuckles, letting his love wash over and through her and she breathed it in just as she breathed in the scent of rosemary and lavender mixed with the sweet night air. Once they crossed into the building, he dropped her hand and his face transformed, becoming more serious. More guardsman-like.
“Call me if you need me,” he said, stopping in front of her bedroom door.
“I will,” she said, giving him a smile. “And I’ll definitely think more on what we talked about.”
“Good.” He glanced both ways down the hallway to make sure no one was looking before softly pressing his lips against hers. Her stomach flip-flopped and she pulled away, quickly entering her room, shutting the door behind her before she could do something foolish.
She climbed into her little bed, her body still aching for him. Her fingers brushed over her lips, the skin around her mouth a little raw from his short, blond beard. Sleep pulled her under its spell fast, and she dreamed of the two of them in the forest, standing in front of the Sylvae. She touched it and it split right down the middle into two identical trees, mirror images of each other. And as they started to step through, Y’Ana grabbed their hands, pulling them back. Her eyes flew open and she jerked awake. In the next room, Y’Ana was crying in her sleep. Eryn got up and climbed into bed with the little girl, wrapping her arms around her, holding her little shaking body.
“Hush-a-bye, my sweet little baby, don’t you cry.” She sang the same lullaby mother had sung to her. It was the only memory she had of her mother. Y’Ana calmed in her arms, and finally they both drifted into deep, dreamless sleep.
Eight
“Stay where I can see you, Y’Ana,” Eryn called. Y’Ana
zoomed through the hedgerow maze, her arms out. With Trygg by her side, they walked through the six-foot-tall hedges, his hand reaching out every so often to pull a leaf from the bush.
“So I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said softly.
“What?” She craned her neck. Y’Ana had disappeared around the corner. “Y’Ana!” she called after the girl. “Y’Ana, please come back to where I can see you.”
“I’ve been thinking about how — much you wanted to go into the marketplace,” he said. Eryn stopped in her tracks and looked up at him. She didn’t remember saying anything about going to the marketplace recently. “You know…to get some —” His brow creased as if he was trying to come up with some excuse. “Supplies. For your classroom.”
So he wanted to go to the market. Why? What was in the market? “Supplies — yes. I do need supplies,” she said. His face relaxed.
“Maybe we could go tomorrow,” he said.
Y’Ana came zooming around the corner, giggling. It was the happiest Eryn had ever seen her. Harbee had been mysteriously absent the last three days at breakfast. When she asked Peter about it, he had just told her not to worry. Sometimes Harbee spent days alone in her studio painting when she was inspired.
“I’ll have to figure out what to do with Y’Ana,” she said. “Peter would never allow her to go with me.”
“I think I have a solution for that —” He grinned.
“Well, I’m intrigued.”
“I talked to the cook, Mrs. Gilstrap. She said she would be happy to look after Y’Ana for a couple of hours after breakfast,” he said.
“Has she met Y’Ana?”
“Yes. Before you came, the other governess left unexpectedly and Mrs. Gilstrap looked after her. She even set up a little playroom for her in the butler’s office,” he said.
“Okay. I’d like to speak with her first,” she said
He smiled. “I thought you might say that. She’s expecting us after dinner tonight. I thought it might be nice for Y’Ana to say hello to her.”
