The Changeling's Fortune (Winter's Blight Book 1)

by K. C. Lannon

  “The king? Of course not! He has other ways to waste his time.”

  “Oh.” Deirdre leaned back in her chair, a bit disappointed. It would have been interesting to be able to write back to the orphanage that she had seen the king driving by on a daily basis.

  I guess that was a LITTLE unrealistic. It still would have been neat…

  As Deirdre finished her last bite of breakfast, Ms. Becket said, “Well, since you’ve got free time, you can use it to begin studying.”

  Deirdre was crestfallen. “But we haven’t even been to any classes yet! And I wanted to explore the city more.”

  “You’re here because you have to repeat classes, right?” Ms. Becket nailed her with a look. “You need all the studying time you can get. You know you’re the first student we’ve ever had who had to repeat classes? I bet those nuns taught you to pray before they taught you to think, hmm?”

  Her face flushing hot, Deirdre clenched her fists so hard her fingernails dug into her palms. “That’s not true!”

  Ms. Becket, unperturbed, had gone to take another sip of tea; suddenly the handle cracked and shattered, the cup falling, the hot liquid splashing onto her lap.

  Swearing, she hopped to her feet and began cleaning it up. Deirdre started, her mouth falling open.

  “I…” She felt like apologizing, but the words died on her throat.

  “Go get ice, you daft girl,” Ms. Becket snapped. “Hurry!”

  Quickly she dashed in and grabbed a chunk from the icebox, delivering it to the teacher. She applied it immediately.

  “And this was a new robe.” She shot a foul look at the remains of the cup on the table. “That’s what I get for using imported teacups!”

  “Do they break easily?” Deirdre asked.

  “Well, they aren’t very well made, so it’s no surprise this one gave out on me.”

  Remembering the twig from last night, Deirdre pressed, “So, has one broken like this before?”

  Ms. Becket frowned. “What do you mind? And aren’t you supposed to be studying? Stop fussing and go on!”

  Deirdre nodded and slowly walked upstairs as the teacher called after her, “And brush your hair! You look like some wild, unwashed savage.”

  Aside from a break for early lunch, Deirdre spent the rest of the morning reading the few texts provided yesterday for class. They were all things she had learned about two years ago or were vastly simplified versions of the material she had failed last year. She’d be able to pass this year for sure. But she wound up rereading the same page for the fourteenth time after accidentally skimming it again, her mind replaying the cup and twig incidents.

  It’s not like I could have caused those. She looked up from her desk at the yellow wallpaper, cupping her face in her hands. But that feeling… My heart was racing both times. It was the same as when the banshee pushed me. Did she do something to me? Like curse me or something? Is something going to break every time I get mad? Ooh, I don’t think I like the sound of that…

  She licked her lips, sitting up straight. But maybe those were just flukes. I just need to test this out and make sure…

  Turning around in her seat, she looked meditatively at her small bed, drumming her fingers on her knees. Then she stood up, walked over to the bed, and swiftly kicked the sideboard.

  She let out a cry of pain; the impact was harder than she had anticipated. She sat back down, clutching her foot, but kept her gaze on the sideboard, wishing for it to have a small crack in it. She held her breath.

  Nothing happened.

  She tried a couple of different things; thinking of things that made her mad, jabbing herself with a pencil and then willing it to snap, and even once punching that hideous wallpaper, but to no avail. Eventually she decided what happened must have both been accidents, and she sat back down to study.

  She wrote down everything she did in order to report her studies; she had a tendency to slack off or immediately forget what she had studied. As soon as it was quarter past twelve, she threw her books down on her bed and jumped up, grabbing her change purse and rushing out. She doubled back to grab her study time notes, then hurried back out again.

  As she reached the common room, Ms. Becket reappeared from her downstairs quarters with a stack of books. After the teacher put them on the table, Deirdre handed her the note.

  “What’s this?” she asked, taking the paper and squinting at it.

  “It’s what I managed to study since breakfast.”

  “Did you take any breaks?”

  “Not really, except for lunch.” The time she spent beating up her belongings and willing them to split in two felt more like work than a break.

  Ms. Becket raised her eyebrows. “No wonder you’re repeating a year, Red. But it’s enough to keep your date.” Completely ignoring Deirdre’s protests that it wasn’t a date, she pulled a pencil from her pocket and began to write something on the back of the note.

  “Here’s the café’s address and directions there.” She gave the note to Deirdre. “Don’t be out too long; you’re here to study, remember.”

  Deirdre nodded, then ran out of the room and straight down the hall. As she closed the door behind her, the last thing she heard was Ms. Becket tut-tutting at her.

  It was a cloudy, mild day. The cool wind that escorted her down the street was not from the south; instead of smell of the sea, it brought oily, smoky, foreign city scents. The streets and sidewalks were crammed with people, either rushing to work or desperate to enjoy themselves on the weekend. She was ignored as she walked alone, following the directions devotedly (though often having to backtrack after making the wrong turn while distracted).

  There was just so much to see: men and women in crisp professional garb, old men loitering or smoking on benches, and families rushing about. Most families only had one or two children. A large family with several boys and girls passed her down the sidewalk. The father and mother were both ginger, and she briefly wondered if her own parents both shared her hair color.

  A car honking brought her back to reality, and she barely managed to dash away before the car sped past her. The driver, windows down, shouted at her angrily as he passed.

  Spinning around, she shrieked back at the car, “Watch where you’re going, jerk!”

  On the last word, her voice pitched; at that moment, the bright, shining hubcaps on the car began to turn brown. They got darker as they corroded in an instant, turning into dust before her eyes. The body of the car collapsed onto the street and, with nothing to stop its momentum, it screeched along until it ran into the curb and then into a lamppost, scattering pedestrians.

  Deirdre started back; her hands were shaking and her throat was dry. The driver wasn’t moving; he had hit his head on the wheel. Bystanders were beginning to gather curiously. Some of them looked scared, and she heard someone shout for the soldiers, saying it must have been the work of faeries.

  Promptly Deirdre turned and hurried away; the weakness in her legs was the only thing keeping her from running.

  Soon she reached the café. It was an old pub that had been opened up, featuring three french doors opened wide, letting in light from the expanded outdoor seating area. The chairs were packed with young people. Although there were several groups of friends, most were clearly couples on dates. Hugging herself, still shaken from the car crash, she searched through the crowd for James. She stared bemusedly at just how many couples were composed of young women with low-cut shirts and young men not making eye contact as they chatted and flirted. Again, she wondered how these women weren’t getting chilled with so much skin showing.

  The girl of one pair noticed her staring and shot her a dirty look. Flushing, she turned and nearly jumped out of her skin to find James right behind her, silent as the grave. She shrieked and jumped back.

  “Hi,” he said, smiling. He was holding up a large, stuffed satchel with one hand with difficulty.

  “Good heavens, you’re quiet!” Deirdre exclaimed, hand on her heart as she
let out a nervous giggle.

  James didn’t seem to know how to answer that, so he pointed inside the open café doors. “How about we sit inside? Bit chilly out here.”

  She agreed and they headed inside, James leading her to a vacant spot in the corner of the café. He put his satchel heavily on the table, making it quake.

  “What’s all that? School books?” Deirdre asked, sitting down and crossing her legs, swinging her midair foot restlessly.

  “No, this is…” He looked at her, his eyes once again gleaming with excitement. “This is all I’ve collected about the country where faeries live.”

  “Oh. Like the Summer Court?”

  He nodded and began pulling books and notebooks out; he stacked the books randomly but kept the notebooks close to him and out of her reach. She noticed all of them had the same handwriting and assumed they were all his notes. Recognizing one of the thick books, she picked it up.

  “I know this! I read it in the orphanage library all the time.” She turned the book so the plain, battered, red cover faced him. “Arthurian Faery Stories. They even have the one told by the Wife of Bath! I used to love it until one of the girls explained it to me a couple of years ago.”

  “Oh, that’s…” James looked around quickly, checking for eavesdroppers, then lowered his voice as he continued, “That book is kind of banned. I’d better put it back; I didn’t realize it was in there.”

  “What? Banned?” Deirdre hugged the book protectively. “Why would they do that? That’s completely mad! It doesn’t have any really bad lies or anything. That’s the only reason books are banned from the orphanage library…”

  James shrugged, reaching for the book. “The faeries weren’t evil enough, so eventually it was labeled as dangerous.”

  “But not all faeries are bad; that’s what we were taught.”

  “Really? I think so… I mean, what else were you taught?”

  “Um… well, Mother Superior was from Iceland, so she told us stories about them there. I can’t remember them too well… otherwise, we just learned about faery circles and the tricks those play and little tips like that. But there wasn’t much else except for what we read in books like this.” Sighing one last time at the volume’s front, she handed the book back to James, who stowed it out of sight.

  “But no one minds if you look at things like this.” He opened a gigantic book, pulling out a folded center page. It detailed an enormous geographical map of the city, the coast around it, and the countryside just outside the walls.

  “Wow.” Deirdre stared at the city’s layout; it was so intricate and counterintuitive to the maps of the forest and small towns she grew up with.

  “I know, right? And look.” He pointed out scratchy writing in dark blue ink, clearly added by him. “Up here in these woods, some people say there are bird faeries. But we can’t go out and find ’em; there are patrols around the city all the time.”

  “I didn’t see any patrols.”

  “Well, they don’t patrol much around the front gate, but that’s always guarded, so there’s no need. Anyway, I managed to figure out where the patrol routes are every day. They change by day of the week, so it took a while…”

  James then launched into a long explanation of the patrols and their exact schedules and routes. Although she tried to follow along, it was a lot of information, and eventually Deirdre listened without really processing what he was saying. She kept her gaze fixed on his hand as he pointed down at the map and traced the various patrol routes. Though she tried to remember which route was associated with which day and which hour, she soon realized it was hopeless.

  Maybe I should have brought a notebook myself…

  “And that’s about it, though things change some on state holidays, like tomorrow,” James was saying.

  “Hmmm… what? What’s tomorrow?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “The memorial of the Bombing.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “So tomorrow it’d be easier to get out without being noticed. Patrols will be lighter around here”—he pointed to a small northern exit—“because everyone will be focused on the parade, on this street.” He traced his finger down a long central road a few blocks away from the exit in question.

  “I see,” Deirdre said in the dazed tone of someone who really does not understand.

  James went on energetically, “So if you were to leave by this gate just before the parade comes down the street, I don’t think anyone will notice and ask why you’re leaving.”

  “That makes sense.” She looked at him and gestured at the map. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

  James hesitated before answering, and she desperately thought, Please don’t say “because we’re on a date” or something like that…

  “I’m… Well, I want to go too.”

  She was relieved and puzzled at the same time, and for a moment she sat there gaping at him. “But— What? You? Why?”

  “I’ve always wanted to… you know, go out of the city and see faery country.”

  “And your family is all right with that?”

  “They won’t even notice I’m gone,” James said dismissively, though he didn’t meet her eye.

  She sat farther back in her chair, thinking out loud, “I guess you could… I mean, honestly, I wasn’t completely sure I would go.”

  “You don’t want to?”

  “Well, I mean, if I went, I’d miss classes! That’s kind of against the rules, isn’t it?”

  “But your family… and there’s so much out there! Look, no one talks about it, but once you step into faery forests, there’s magic everywhere. And it’s real, like the fortune the other day. And here, I’ll show you…” He pulled out one of his notebooks and flipped to a page, double-checking its contents before laying it down on the table for her to see.

  It was packed with notes and small sketches, apparently organizing everything James knew about faery magic. Deirdre read and listened to James excitedly pointing out what he liked best at the same time.

  Faery magic, it said, could make flowers bloom in winter. It could hold back or bring forth the tide before its time. It could dry or refill ancient wells. It could forge lighting and hail out of their time and season. It could even make the sun come out on a cloudy day. All this did not necessarily contradict the little Deirdre had learned about faeries, but it still sounded like something out of myth.

  “Just imagine being in their land, seeing all this!” James was now ecstatic, beginning to gesture so emphatically with his arms that he whacked his elbow on the table with a loud bang.

  As he nursed his injury, muttering a couple of angry, foreign words, Deirdre leaned over the notebook. The way James went on about faeries and their lands, going toward their Court sounded like it could only be full of delight. But one of the notes about magic noted that it could decay and destroy things, from plants to metal.

  The hubcaps turning to dust resurfaced in her mind. Was that magic…? From what this says, magic could definitely do that. So maybe the twig and the teacup and the tires… Was that all magic? But how? How? Was it the fortune? Did that banshee really put a curse on me? If that’s so… maybe the Court could cure it. Maybe…

  “James, faeries can curse people, right?” Deirdre asked, her voice unusually high-pitched.

  He stopped rubbing his elbow. “Yeah, but they don’t. I mean, they don’t do it that often. That’s a misconception people have, but I found out that—”

  “Can they curse someone so they, somehow, use magic?”

  James blinked. “I don’t think so… I mean, that would be really cool if they could! You or I could use magic that way. But, um”—he shuffled through his notes for a moment—“no, they can’t give their magic away like that. Maybe sometimes they can give magical objects, like in faery tales, but that’s it.”

  “Oh.” She sighed, leaning forward and cupping her head in her hands.

  But if it isn’t a curse, then what is it? Could it be s
omething to do with my family? Maybe the Court could tell me… But this didn’t happen until I came to the city. Maybe if I leave, everything will be fine again. But if I leave, I’ll miss classes! And if I stay…

  The cup breaking this morning flashed into her memory, and she shivered. If I stay, this… problem might hurt people here. I might even hurt the other students! I don’t want anything like that to happen. I can’t just do nothing… I’ve got to find a way to fix this. Maybe I won’t have to go all the way to the Court to do that. Maybe I could find an answer some other way and come back before missing too much school…

  Her eyes widened and she shot upright in her seat, excitedly gasping before turning to James and asking, “How about we go to Trinity?”

  “What? Why?”

  “Mother Superior always knew a lot about faeries and magic. I think she knew way more than she ever told us. So I want to ask her about magic and all that. And”—she hesitated before continuing—“maybe there’s some things about my parents she never told me. Hints or clues… things like that.”

  James fiddled with his pen for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. It’s a bit funny to be leaving school only to head to another one…”

  She gasped. “I didn’t even realize—what about your schooling? I mean, I might miss one or two days, but these classes are repeats for me, and I can catch up again easily. But won’t you miss out on a lot?”

  “Oh… well, I can always make up later,” James said. “Besides… if you don’t go now, you might miss being able to find your parents. Right?”

  Deirdre blew out a long breath, slouching in her chair. “I guess. I don’t know. I always thought they must be dead. I never thought about going to search because I hated the idea of searching for people who couldn’t be found. It’s…” She noticed James looking at her, and she smiled. “It’s just a pretty scary thought. But never mind— Have you ever been out of the city before, on your own?”

  “Um… no.”

  “Oh. Have you been camping before?”

  He shifted in his seat. “Well, I’ve read a lot about camping and traveling and things like that. Like this book here.” He pulled out a thin paperback from his pile. “I think it will be helpful…”