Lost Girl

by Mary E. Twomey

  I summoned all of my courage and belted out, “Mom, I’m home!”

  Love the book? Leave a review.

  If you don’t leave a review,

  I’m totally sending the Gévaudan after you.

  Rich Girl

  Continue the series with Rich Girl,

  book three in the Faîte Falling series.

  1

  Mother Dearest

  My fingers twitched as they tugged and pulled on each other in my lap. Despite the gentle light from the oil lamps hanging in the four corners of the long, hollow throne room, I felt as if there must be a spotlight on me. In hindsight, barging into my mother’s castle after having punched one of her soldiers may not have been the most princess-like move on my part.

  I hadn’t seen her since I was a year old, but there she was – me, with a few alterations. Our matching brown, wavy hair, heart-shaped face, slender button noses, and hourglass figures were spot on for a genetics test, but I had a few freckles on my right cheek, and her skin was creamy and spotless. Her curvy frame was far more exaggerated than mine – her waist smaller and her hips wider – but the blueprints were there. While my eyes were blue and hers green, they were the same shape. Her hair was pulled back into one long braid that ended at her waist, and her hands were smooth and unused.

  I was more built for the soccer field, and had the thick thighs to prove it, but my mother was made for the very throne she sat on as she stared at me. She took in my humble demeanor with a scrutinizing eye that seemed laced with a hint of longing. I knew the look well, as it was most likely mirrored on my own face. I’d been taken away from her so young; it was strange to think that, were she not wearing a gold crown and all the queenly trappings, I might not know I belonged to her.

  Well, really I belonged to her youngest sister, Lane, who took me from the castle when my mother started getting power-hungry. Lane raised me as her own.

  Morgan’s voice was composed and even, lower in tone than mine. I wondered if she’d ever considered becoming a jazz singer. “Duchess Elaine of Province 9 confirmed that you are the child she stole. Have you anything to say to that?”

  I worried that when I opened my mouth, a frog might pop out. There were a dozen soldiers lining the walls of the throne room, plus one official-looking dude to the side near the base of the throne, and his page boy, all staring at me with wide eyes. Why wouldn’t they be here? Totally normal to be well-guarded when meeting your daughter for the first time in twenty-one years. “Um, yeah. Lane raised me up in Common. I only just found out about you and Avalon and all of it, so here I am. Thought we should meet each other. Maybe you could stop sending people to try and abduct me.”

  I didn’t see much of a point in pulling punches. She hadn’t welcomed me with opened arms, and the sting of her first words to me were still fresh. “Get that filthy peasant out of my castle,” was hard to bounce back from. But what mother-daughter relationship didn’t suffer a little turbulence from time to time?

  Morgan watched me with narrowed eyes, her red painted pointy fingernail touching her lips. I felt like she was studying every square inch of me. I wished we could get to know each other a little less formally. I mean, there were a dozen guards lining the walls, for crying out loud. She was in a red gown on a golden throne, and I was in jeans and hadn’t bathed or had a proper meal for days. She looked mildly amused by my blatant “let’s deal with this” attitude. “I had every right to try and rescue you. Elaine was foolish to think I would forgive and forget after all this time. You are my rightful daughter, not hers.”

  “My dad sent me with her. She didn’t steal me.” I really hoped Lane hadn’t stolen me. I wanted to believe that my life with her had been the right kind of good, and not a twenty-one-year joy ride. I’d been permitted to see Lane for a total of one minute when the exchange was made upon my arrival to the castle – Reyn for me. Lane begged me to come to Province 9 with her, but I refused, giving her a look that told her we were sticking to the plan, and she would accept it. “It’s time I got to know my birth mother,” I told her, acting as coolly as I could. “You should go to your province and do your thing. I’ll keep in touch.”

  Lane knew how to read my eyes – always did. It’s the rite of motherhood or something. When I would lie and say “I’m fine,” she knew to start popping popcorn and gear up for a long venting session after I’d had time to process whatever it was that got me down.

  When I kept my distance and gave her no more than a cool handshake, we both studied each other’s trembling chins and nodded. “I’ll look forward to a weekly letter from you. If I don’t receive one, I’ll pop by for a friendly chat, so you, me and my dear oldest sister can catch up.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Then I whispered quickly, “Aunt Avril has your gem. Roland is trying to capture it back. Find Bastien. He can help you get your gem back from her.”

  And that was that. I didn’t get to hug her, to fall in her arms and tell her all that I’d been through. I didn’t get to blubber away all my problems and lay them on her capable shoulders. I simply waved goodbye, watching as she left with Reyn, and left me with my birth mother.

  Morgan’s mouth was in a firm line. “If you hadn’t been taken from me, you would know that when you’re in court in front of the queen, you don’t fidget. You stand up straight and conduct yourself as if you’ve been raised with some sense of decorum.”

  I tried to obey all her commands, keeping my chin high to show her I wanted to make this work. Oh, how badly I’d wanted this to work. “I’m sorry, Mom. I can do better. You might have to be patient with me. I was only a year old when I left the castle. You can take my lack of decorum up with my dad.”

  “Would that I could. Your father fell ill just after you were taken. Province 2 invaded our kingdom on the eve you went missing. Elaine took you to evade capture on his orders, but she should have returned with you the second I rid Avalon of my late sister Tyronoe’s greed. Urien’s grief was so great over losing his only daughter that he never recovered.” Then her voice sharpened, jerking me from false sweetness to the edge of the ever-ready knife of her threatening tone. “And do not call me ‘Mom’. You may call me ‘her majesty most high’, since that’s who I am. You are too old to call me ‘Mom’, and I am too young to be seen as one.”

  My face pulled at the gut-punch I hadn’t realized she could do in the span of a few sentences. “Okay, your majesty most high. Sorry about that.” I bit my lip and didn’t argue about the very different version I was being spun of my escape from Avalon. Lane had told me Urien was worried Morgan was trying to slowly kill him, so he instructed Lane to take me and run. My gut pulled me in the opposite direction of Morgan’s words. As much as I wanted to believe the best in my mother, my gut had never once lied to me. “Oh. Lane was waiting until she was sure all the sisters who were a threat to me were gone. Then she brought me back to you.” I cleared my throat through the lie. “I’d like to meet my dad, when he’s feeling up to it.”

  She looked at me like I was a bug with a convenient excuse she couldn’t shoot Lane for. “He won’t even know you’re there, but I see no problem with you spending time with a useless stump.”

  I reared back, but kept my mouth shut so I didn’t voice a contrary opinion so early on in the game. She knew as well as I that we were locked into a long con. She assumed the goal would be to get me to work for her to find the last four gems, but my end game was to steal the gems she’d hoarded from her sisters and return them to the fallen provinces. That way all of Avalon could flourish, and not just Province 1, where Morgan le Fae held far too much power. I’d already found three of the jewels, and they were most likely tucked in Province 8, where my Aunt Avril was returning with her own Jewel of Good Fortune. She’d stolen the jewels from us, so either they were there, or my mistrustful cousin Roland had managed to take his late mother Heloise’s gem back to his home in Province 4. Better he hunt her down than keep trying to prove that I was manipulative and prone to jew
el thievery.

  Well, I mean, I was going to have to manipulate Morgan to try and steal her jewels, but it really was for the greater good. Honest.

  When the silence between us was too thick for me to attempt busting through it, Morgan stood, a fake smile plastered on her face out of nowhere. I’d known the woman all of half an hour, and I could tell plain as day that the smile was fabricated. There was too much saccharine in the corners, too much planning in her eyes to really seem joyful. She clasped her hands together and took the stairs down from her throne’s elevated platform so she could stand five feet in front of me. “My daughter, home again. Avalon shall have a celebration like it never has before. Rigby, see to the details. The fledgling provinces shall be invited to see the Lost Princess, returned to me at last.” She clicked her fingers to the official-looking man who was standing at the base of the throne. Dude had perfect posture, and was dressed in beige fitted trousers, a white dress shirt, and a red suit jacket. The crimson with gold threading matched Morgan’s long robes and the guards’ stiff uniform tunics.

  “Right away, your majesty most high.” Rigby gave a slight bow to his head and snapped his fingers to a page boy who kept tight to his heels. “Summon the heads of staff to await instruction in the galley,” he told the boy, who ran off after bowing to Morgan, and then shockingly, to me.

  Morgan was apparently just getting started with her to-do list. “A grand celebration for the entire kingdom in two weeks’ time, so Rosalie can meet her suitors. That should be enough time to get word to the provinces and give them the opportunity to travel to us. Then in a month, we shall have a royal ball where Rosalie will pick her husband. But only invite the heads of the provinces and notable guests to the ball. No need to pretend the peasants own gowns well enough for a dance. No, no. They can stay at home for that. Give them something to long after, aspire to. Do you think two weeks is enough time to groom her?” She asked of Rigby, ignoring my dropped jaw. “If you need more, take it, but let’s not stretch it out too long. The people will want to see her settled in our province as soon as possible. I can’t imagine how many people have seen her like this already. It’ll be an uphill battle to groom all of this out of her.” She motioned to my entire being, and my heart sank.

  “Yes, your majesty. I’m certain two weeks won’t be a problem.” Rigby had a long nose, dark wavy brown hair that curled at his neck like a forty-year-old Disney prince, and closed off eyes that didn’t give anything away. My gut didn’t so much know what to do with him. He scrutinized me from head to toe, no doubt assessing what sort of major damage control he’d need to pull to get me to look like a princess.

  I held up my finger to pause the nonsense train that was already leaving the station. “Um, let me stop you right there. I’m not exactly ready to pick a husband. I appreciate the party and all. I mean, that sounds awesome. The Avalon-wide celebration will no doubt be a blast. I’ve never been to a royal ball, obviously, so I’ll be glad to go to whatever you like. But I’m not even dating anyone, so getting married inside a month is where I draw the line.” I shrugged a simple, silent apology.

  Morgan blinked at me, and up close I noticed her eyelashes were unnaturally long. Not like when Jill wore fake eyelash extensions, but like, a whole knuckle long of mascaraed, curly lashes. They jutted out from her eyes like dark spiders trying to crawl their way out of her eyeballs. I blame the dim lanterns’ light for not picking it out before. Her words came out slow and measured, as if responding to someone who was stupid. “A husband is necessary for you. You’re of age, and it will look poor on my household if I have a daughter no one wishes to marry.”

  I raised my eyebrow at her. “Because I don’t get married in a month, it means I’m an old hag no one wants? I hardly think it’s that dramatic. I’m new to Avalon. Blame it on me settling in. Blame it on be being an old hag at twenty-two, I guess. I don’t much care. Point is, I’m not marrying a stranger just because people will think it’s weird I’m single. I don’t care if people think I’m odd.” I offered up another shrug as if to say, This is who I am. Deal with it.

  She brushed off my protest with a wave of her bejeweled hand. “You won’t be married off to a stranger. Suitors from all over will make their offers for marriage when you’re announced at the celebration feast for Avalon in two weeks. They’ll offer their hand to you in marriage, and you can pick the one who offends you the least. We’ll announce your choice at the ball.”

  I tried to fight back my grimace, but I’m pretty sure I lost that battle. “Look, I’m out of my element here, so I’ll defer to you in most things about your culture and whatnot, but marriage? That gets to be my call.”

  Morgan’s eyes skewered me with laser-like focus. “I see you’ve spent far too much time with my sister. Willful and foolish. Though, you’re still young. There’s hope for you.”

  I brushed off the slam on Lane, who I loved like a mother. I could tell any protest I made to Morgan would fall on deaf ears. “Is Lane alright? You two worked things out?”

  “She’s returned to the barren wreckage of Province 9 to resume her post, though none of her people will follow, I assure you. I don’t see her in twenty-one years, and all of a sudden she’s on my castle steps, demanding I give her the judge’s son from Province 2. She was never a fool for a man’s love, but I saw the desperation in her eyes.” Morgan pfft’d, as if the notion was ridiculous. “I guess some people can change. I expect her to marry him soon, with the way she pled for his life. He will suit her well, since Reyn is of noble quality, young though he is.”

  The castle, while spacious and vast, started to feel like it was closing in on me. I didn’t think I could wait the one-week mark to communicate with Lane. Call me a baby, but in that moment, I needed my mommy. I didn’t want to get married to someone I didn’t know. I didn’t want to get married at all just yet. “Can I borrow a horse and a guide to take me to Province 2? Just to make sure she’s alright.”

  Morgan frowned. “Surely you don’t need a guide. You’re the Compass. If you want to find her, there’s no doubt you can.”

  My plan wasn’t totally well thought out, but I went with it all the same. “Yeah, I didn’t even know about that ability until we came to Avalon.” Okay, that part was true, but a lie bubbled on my tongue. “I’m about as useful with finding lost things as the next girl.” I didn’t want Morgan to know I could be her ticket to finding the additional Jewels of Good Fortune. I wanted her to like me for me, not for what I could do for her. “Maybe it was a gift that went away or something. I don’t really know how all your magic works. But yeah, I’m not a gleaming GPS to finding lost keys or wallets or whatever. Got turned around four times on my way here.” I shrugged in a what can you do? kind of way.

  Morgan’s nostrils flared, and I began to debate the awesomeness of telling her my gift was a dead-in-the-water duck with no hope of resurrection. “Master Kerdik, that snake. I’ll try summoning him, though I’m not sure what good that’ll do. He never comes when I call anymore.” She cleared the distance between us, and brave as I wanted to be, the reappearance of her fake, coiled smile made me jerk back before I remembered myself.

  This was my mother. I was supposed to want to be near her. What the crap was wrong with me?

  She gripped my shoulders with fingernails that were far sharper than they looked. “Beauty, don’t you worry. Your queen will fix what’s broken in you. Master Kerdik will put you back together, and your Compass will be good as new. It was your birth blessing; I highly doubt it simply vanished. Perhaps you just need to be taught how to use it. I can certainly help with that.”

  I nodded, unsure what else I was supposed to do. “Sure. Some mother-daughter bonding time sounds nice.”

  Morgan glanced down at my dirty clothes and retracted her hands from me, as if I was covered in feces. She snapped her fingers at Rigby without looking at him. Rigby was ready with a handkerchief he placed in her expectant palm. She all but snarled at me as if I was a disgusting bug she needed to
wipe her hands clean of. “Straighten her up, Rigby. See to it the seamstress gets her a properly fitting wardrobe. Something grand for the celebration, and a few gowns in the colors of my crown for the courtly meetings when potential suitors come to call.” When I opened my mouth to shut down the noise about suitors, Morgan reached out and snatched my lips, holding them shut. In a command that was quiet but firm, she instructed me with two words that made me recoil. “Be beautiful. That’s what’s required of you. Do not disappoint me.”

  Lane had never done something so disrespectful to me. I knocked Morgan’s hand out of the way, not even pretending to play nice. “Dude, don’t put your hands on me, and don’t shut me up like that. It’s friggin’ rude.”

  It was as if all the soldiers stopped breathing as one. Rigby was motionless, watching the exchange with widened green eyes that were suddenly expressive with a silent warning for me to behave. I kept my chin up, and tried not to look defiant, but instead to appear calm and rational. I tried to look like Lane – a woman who didn’t need to prove herself, or fight to get her point across.

  I didn’t understand the assault that was coming when she pulled her hand back and let her palm smack across my face. My cheek stung with betrayal, anger and a deeply slicing wound that might never heal. Morgan’s words came out cold, sifted through lips that barely moved through her flaring anger. “Rigby, see to it my daughter is educated on our ways.”

  “Yes, your majesty most high.”

  “Remove her from my sight before I strike her again and leave a mark on her petulant face. It would utterly ruin the celebration.” She raised her finger to me in a threat. “But don’t think I won’t take a switch to your backside, little bête.”

  I didn’t know what that word meant, but I’m guessing it wasn’t “daughter” by the disgusted way she said it. I felt the pressure of moisture building behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.