Issina stepped into the hall and inched toward the sitting room entrance. Sunlight spilled from the doorway in a yellow square. It illuminated the threadbare rug she had cleaned countless times. A pair of dusty footprints led to the sitting room. They were larger than any she had ever seen— from a pair of boots belonging to the mellow voice now speaking to Edryn about her loveliness.
Issina inched closer to the doorway and finally peeked around the corner to see a tall, dashing man with shiny blond hair down to his shoulders. His ice-blue eyes were fixed upon Edryn, who batted her one eye so daintily the entire room seemed frozen in her trance. Except Issina. She looked back to Lord Ashcombe.
“I must beg to visit often,” Lord Ashcombe said as he lifted Edryn’s hand and kissed the top of it with gentle lips. “But the coming weeks before the performance will be busy for you, I am sure. Please do not let me intrude.”
“Never, never,” Odele said as she fanned her face and smiled radiantly. “You’re welcome any time. We must show you the garden on your next visit. Come for breakfast soon.”
“Enchanted, Madame.” Lord Ashcombe lifted her hand and kissed it as well, but not nearly as delicately as he had touched Edryn’s hand, nor even Sybil’s. “Please, I beg of you,” he said while sweeping his wide-brimmed hat back on top of his head. “Call me Braeden.” He stared at Edryn as Issina’s eyes moved from his boots and wool breeches to his thick leather doublet and deep purple cloak embroidered with the royal crest. She noticed his strong hands and how every movement he made was deliberate and quiet. He reminded her of a butterfly, beautiful and mesmerizing.
For the next three nights, she dreamed of the man in the forest, but he quickly faded to Braeden. She dreamed of him in the sitting room. He sat next to her on the sofa, his hand caressing hers. His touch, even in her dream, made her flush with excitement. She had never imagined a man creating so much tension inside of her. She couldn’t get his elegance out of her mind, his immaculate clothing, the way he had kissed Edryn’s hand, the sound of his voice like a breeze through the forest. These emotions made her stir across her blanket on the floor. She heard the rain pounding the roof and her mind shifted with a jerk to her mother on a bed years earlier, shrieking to the heavens as she gave birth to her third daughter. The air smelled of sweat and burning candles. Even as a newborn, fear invaded Issina’s senses. Her mother’s screams died into sobs. Two eyes. Two eyes. She has two eyes. Issina did not understand until she looked into her father’s face and saw three shiny jewels as dark as tiger’s eye stones streaked with yellow. His forehead knotted like a fist around his three eyes, which were filled with tears and raw anger. She saw his face only once.
She woke to the sound of Odele’s voice. She often came into the room in the mornings to give Issina her list of chores. This morning was different since Issina had slept in—something she had never done before. Odele was all smiles and tenderness instead of the frosty expressions she usually gave Issina in the mornings. She sat on the edge of Edryn’s bed, her hand stroking her daughter’s forehead as they talked.
“You are so lovely, my dear,” Odele said. “Your sister may be older, but I have a feeling you will marry before she does. She has other qualities that will attract a fine man, but I’ve noticed men rest their gazes on you far more than they do her. You will go first.”
“Mother, please.” Edryn giggled and blushed. “I haven’t thought of marriage yet. Is there such a man who could make me happy enough to take me away from here? From you?”
“There might be.”
Sybil stirred in her bed and yawned. “What are you two talking about over there? Men?” She laughed and sat up.
Through her partially closed eyes, Issina watched the three of them smile and laugh. She ached for their connection, for their happiness, and a tear slid down her cheek as she closed her eyes again. She wanted to ignore what she could not be a part of, but it was impossible.
“When your sister finally decides to wake, give her the list of chores. She might deserve a rap on the knuckles today for sleeping so much.”
“Yes, Mother.” Edryn giggled as Odele left the room.
When Issina opened her eyes and sat up, Edryn was sitting at the vanity. She turned to her. “Get over here and fix my hair. I thought you’d never wake.”
She yawned. “What time is it?”
Edryn scowled. “Long past the time you’re usually awake. What is wrong with you?”
She rose to her feet and stumbled to the vanity. She felt groggy because of the extra sleep. She picked up the brush and proceeded to untangle Edryn’s hair. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” She looked at herself in the mirror, shocked to see her face healthier than it had been yesterday. Her cheeks were tinged pink. Her eyes sparkled.
Sybil grunted from the other side of the room as she got out of bed and headed for her wardrobe. “Don’t do it again. You’ve been lazy lately. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”
She froze. “Lazy? How?”
Edryn picked up a hair ribbon and started playing with it. “You dawdle here and there. You’ve never dawdled before.” She narrowed her eye. “And why aren’t you eating the scraps we leave for you? Ouch!” She jerked as Issina yanked the brush through her hair. “Watch what you’re doing!”
Issina stepped back, her body trembling as she tried to erase her mind of the meals she had eaten the past three weeks, of hot bread and tender vegetables, wine and fruit. She tried to forget the man in the forest. Since Edryn had seen her thoughts once, she was terrified she would see them again. What would her sisters do if they knew of the food? What would Edryn do if she knew she longed to see Braeden again? “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Edryn stood and planted her hands on her hips. Her white chemise was a stark contrast to her black hair still in tight knots. “Your corra has changed color these past few weeks.”
“What?” Her face drained of warmth.
“It’s... green. It’s usually orange.” Edryn’s eye grew hazy. “Now it’s the most beautiful green I’ve ever seen.”
“Really?” She took another step back, clutching the brush in her hand.
“Yes.” Edryn stared at her in silence until Sybil approached the vanity, and then spun on her heel and sat back down. “You can help me with my hair, Sybil. Issina isn’t herself today.”
Issina clenched her jaw and turned to her wardrobe. She dressed quickly as something hot and fierce clenched her heart.
On her way to fetch the water, she grumbled to herself and threw glares at Gilbert and Gissy as they honked behind her.
“I deserve just as much as they do,” she growled to the forest. “I’ve lived my entire life serving them. Why can’t Mother give me the same attention? Why can’t I eat as much? Why can’t I use the magic that must be inside me? Edryn said my corra is a beautiful green. Why can’t I see people’s corra?” She lifted one of her empty buckets and chucked it ahead of her on the path. It bounced and rolled and kicked up a cloud of dust. She stopped and stared at it. Gilbert and Gissy looked up at her.
“Go away!” she yelled, and shook her hands at them. They waddled a few inches and then stopped.
“Go away!”
She kicked at them next, but never touched them. They honked and turned and waddled down the path back to the house. She stomped to the bucket she had thrown and snatched it up.
When she reached the well, purple flowers had bloomed around the base. They were bright, their straight stems reaching for the sun. She dropped her buckets and sat down in front of the flowers, clutching her chest with shaking hands. She didn’t understand the tight emotions inside her heart. She closed her eyes, willing everything to loosen and unwind, but the tightness only increased. Where was the man in her mind? She conjured an image of the forest, but he didn’t appear. Nothing appeared. She slowly sank to the ground until her cheek touched the dirt.
When she woke, the purple flowers were in shadow. The sun had moved
farther in the sky, now behind the trees. She hopped to her feet and looked around—Gilbert and Gissy were gone, her buckets still empty. She grabbed them and filled them as quickly as she could and ran back to the house. Surely, she had missed breakfast. Her stomach growled. This was the first morning in weeks she had not eaten a meal in the forest.
She entered the kitchen. Odele must have cooked. The smell of fried meat hung heavy in the air, and when she entered the dining room she found dirty dishes piled on the table. One, two, three, four. Four?
Had Braeden come for breakfast? She hadn’t noticed his carriage in front of the house. She hurried down the hall and peeked into the sitting room. Empty. Perhaps they were in the garden.
“I love apples,” Braeden’s voice rang out as she crossed the chicken yard and noticed a white horse in the stable. It had purple ribbons in its mane. She approached the garden. It was enclosed with trellises for walls, and in some areas, a sort of ceiling made of wood and vines and bright flowers. The smell of the garden was her favorite—a sweet, heady perfume of roses and lilies and herbs, which probably carried for miles if the wind was right.
She wasn’t allowed in the garden unless it was to pull weeds. She approached the closest doorway and saw Braeden’s back. The crest on his cloak sparkled in the filtered sunlight. He took an apple offered to him by Edryn.
“These are the best you’ll ever taste,” she said with a smile.
Braeden bit into the apple, chewed, and then nodded before leaning down to whisper into Edryn’s ear. Issina blushed and looked away. She wondered what a man like Braeden would whisper into a woman’s ear— especially having only met her a few days before. She also wondered where Odele and Sybil had gone until she saw them in a corner of the garden, whispering to each other.
She slunk away. It was obvious she wasn’t missed or needed, and this gave her a chance to head into the woods once again. This time Cassia came with her. They wandered off the path. Branches scraped her face as she charged through the underbrush. She needed to feel close to something, anything. Her breaths came quick and heavy and she finally tripped and fell to the ground. Cassia nudged her shoulder.
“I’m fine, old girl.” She sat up and rubbed her arm where it had scraped the edge of a rock. Tiny spots of blood oozed from her skin. She brushed them away and leaned against a log. A clearing of white flowers and tall grass lay before her, dappled with sun. She took a deep breath and reached out to pick a flower. It was tiny with pointed petals and leaves. Picking two more, she stripped the petals away and braided the three stems together. She was eager to get her mind off her sisters and her empty stomach. She picked three more flowers and braided the stems together, then wove that strand to the other strand. Soon she had a long string of woven stems in her hands and she braided faster and faster until a rope coiled to the ground. Cassia watched her out of the corner of her eye. Issina let out a sigh.
“I’m trying to think of something else besides him,” she whispered as she wound the stem-rope around her arm like a thick bracelet. It felt good to be embraced by something. “I’ve never thought about one particular person so much in my life—not even the man in my dreams. Braeden has such fine hands and features. I’ll bet he would smell nice too, if I could get close enough to him. I’ll bet...”
“Maaaa.”
Issina looked up just as the underbrush rustled and Sybil tripped in the same spot Issina had tripped. Jumping to her feet, Issina grabbed her arm before she fell to the ground.
“Let go of me!” Sybil ripped her arm away and brushed her skirts.
Confused, Issina backed away. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“You aren’t difficult to find. You and your goat left a trail wide enough for a cart.” Sybil motioned to a trail of trampled underbrush and broken branches. She stared deeply into Issina’s eyes and stepped forward. Issina took another step back. Something about Sybil’s behavior was off. She had never sought her out before.
“What c-can I do for you?”
“It’s about Braeden. I need to see you alone, away from Edryn.”
It was true. Sybil and Edryn were almost always together. “Is he still with her in the garden?”
“Yes.” She looked up at the branches above her. The sunlight glowed on her red curls. “Edryn is already falling in love with him,” she said with a deep sigh. “I cannot blame her. I would have fallen in love with him if he had chosen me, but Edryn is his choice.”
“They have only seen each other twice.”
“Ah, so you think.” Sybil smiled. “They have eyed each other in the marketplace for months now, and made it painfully obvious how much they desire one another. It is about time he came for an actual visit and began courting her.”
“Ah.”
“So, dear sister, I must ask you to stay out of the way. You have done well so far, but I saw you watching us in the garden, and I must say I have never...,” she trailed off and stepped closer, touching the braided stems around Issina’s wrist. Issina pulled away as if she had been touched by fire.
“Never what?”
Sybil blinked slowly, her amber eyes suddenly reminding Issina of her father’s eyes, the same color as a tiger’s. “I have never seen such passion in those two eyes of yours. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re... I mean, your corra is the most wicked shade of green these days, especially today.”
“That’s what Edryn told me.”
“Yes.” She stared at the stems wound around Issina’s wrist and smiled. “Let me sing you a song.”
Issina quickly hid her arms behind her back and stepped behind Cassia. She wanted to run, but she knew that wouldn’t go over well. Sybil was the eldest and had as much power over her as Odele. “I promise I’ll stay away from Braeden,” she said. Her throat had become dry and her words came out scratchy. She tried to swallow, but there was no moisture left in her mouth.
“Of course you’ll promise to stay away from him. If Edryn marries Braeden, our future is secured whether or not we both win in the festival.” She giggled. “I plan to win. I can’t imagine a better proposition than to use my magic for such beautiful, noble things. Every farmer will thank me when he watches his livestock fatten off the crops I help to grow. I’m eager to train under Genevieve.” She grinned.
Issina forced a smile. She had seen Genevieve twice at the well. The woman had worn a flowing white dress with red rosebuds threaded in her hair. Issina was sure she was the reason the purple flowers grew so quickly around the well. She seemed filled with light, her voice like honey, her movements a soft breeze. She had trained the growers as long as anyone could remember. Rumor had it she never aged.
Issina looked at Sybil and wondered how Genevieve would transform her, if the training would melt her cruelty. More than likely Issina would never see her sister again.
“Sit down,” Sybil ordered with a wave of her hand.
Still behind Cassia, Issina shook her head. “I have chores to do at home. I can’t listen to you sing today.”
“I said sit down,” she said through gritted teeth.
Issina’s knees grew weak and she sat down in the tall grass and flowers. Cassia plopped down next to her and started chewing on the plants as Sybil walked in a wide arc around them and finally sat behind Issina. She took Issina’s long hair in her hands and began brushing through it with her fingers. Issina held very still. It wasn’t often her sisters touched her except to push her through a doorway. Something was terribly wrong.
“Let me sing to you, Issina.”
Her eyes burned. She squeezed them shut as Sybil’s voice rose from her throat like a thread of sunshine. It was so clear and high, so perfect, that it forced a warm tear down Issina’s cheek. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the music or because she knew Sybil would read her thoughts about Braeden, whose presence had become as deliciously exquisite as the food in the forest.
When she woke, darkness surrounded her. Chilled rain drizzled from heavy clouds and s
he sat up in the grass. Her breath seemed frozen in her chest as she scrambled to her feet and called out for Cassia. No bleats. No light anywhere. She screamed for Sybil, for Edryn, for Odele. The rain grew harder as she turned in circles and wiped tears and rain from her face. Finally, a faint light guided her back to the trail she had made earlier. Her dress caught on branches and she tripped twice. Slimy, half-frozen mud coated her hands. When she found the main trail she cried out in relief. The rain was harder now, and she remembered why she had never tried to run away—stories about men who disappeared in the middle of the night, only to be found weeks later, washed up on the bank of a river or frozen in the underbrush.
He was caught in the rain. He lost his way. If you set out in the darkness, you’ll never find your way home alive.
Issina gasped as she tripped on a root and hit the mud once again. This time, she didn’t try to get up.
Let me sing to you, Issina....
Had Sybil seen the food? Had she seen her thoughts of Braeden smiling, stroking her hand, holding her safe from everything cold and fierce? Had she seen the man in the forest? He was buried so far beneath everything else that she wasn’t sure he would have surfaced in her thoughts. Now his face appeared in her mind. She lifted her head and looked down the trail. The faint light appeared again, and a blurry form motioned for her to stand. She squinted. It was only a tree—her mind playing tricks. She struggled to her feet anyway and called out for Cassia again. A deep ache swelled inside her heart at the thought of the goat, lost and cold, prey to the wild animals.
The figure motioned again. She moved forward. She thought of Sybil’s hands in her hair, of the tender grass and warm sunlight. She thought of Braeden biting into an apple, a smile playing on his lips. These thoughts dissolved when she saw the house, its bedroom windows glowing with candlelight.
“Home,” she whispered and looked around for the light that had led her down the trail. Nothing. She made her way to the front porch and stopped. On the steps were two white lumps. Squinting, she stepped closer and knelt to inspect the odd, mangled figures. Goose feathers. Long necks. Eyes open and cold.
Bonded: Three Fairy Tales, One Bond Page 15
