Chance smiled. “Your eyes are platinum, ringed with black.”
“Okay. So?”
“So it’s a rare color for eyes. In fact, no other student at the school has eyes like yours. And none of them will have platinum hair, either,” Chance said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because different types of fae have different hair and eyes, depending on their lineage. The colors are different for different bloodlines.”
I blinked, not understanding.
He tried again. “You see my hair? It’s brown with gold streaks.”
“Gold streaks?” I squinted at his head.
“They show up in the sunlight. And my eyes, notice them?”
I nodded. “Green, aren’t they? Aunt Clare had green eyes, though not as light as yours.”
“Well, my hair color and eye color are only found in the faun strain of the fae. So, what Boothby meant was, your hair and eye color are rare, so rare you won’t find them in anyone else at the Academy.”
“Okay. Again, why not?”
Chance took a deep breath. “Because your strain of the fae is very rare. Holly, you’re very rare.”
“I am?”
“Yes.” He stared at me for a long minute. Then he sighed and leaned closer. “Holly, only fae of royal blood have platinum hair.”
I sat back and stared at him doubtfully. “I’m descended from royalty?”
“After a fashion,” Chance said.
“What does that mean, ‘after a fashion’?” I asked.
“Well, you’re ... um ... you’re misborn, Holly. That’s why you have that eye color.”
“What’s misborn?”
“Born out of wedlock.”
Chapter Nine
Misborn
I scowled.
Born out of wedlock.
“That’s ... that’s kind of ... kind of rude. Don’t you think?” I asked.
“Yes, it is. The manner of your birth is not your fault. And it’s an old, archaic tradition. And black rims around your irises don’t always mean you were born out of wedlock. Sometimes it means your father died before you were born.”
“Huh?”
A server brought our food.
Two steaming bowls of thick stew and warm bread, split and slathered with butter.
We spent the next ten minutes narfing down the delicious repast. I cleaned my bowl, and sat sopping up the leftover gravy with the last piece of my bread. I’d never done that before, but Jess had taught me, and I found it delicious.
“Okay,” Chance pushed his bowl back and looked at me. “I’m going to give it to you straight.”
I nodded slowly. I wanted to know.
“Your platinum hair color is the mark of the royals. No other fae line has that hair color. And the royals don’t have many children at all. That’s why it’s so rare.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Now, your eye color means two different things. One,” he ticked off his fingers as he spoke. “The color is an indication of the royal line, the platinum color. But,” he pushed down a second finger. “The black rim around your eye means your father was not handfasted to your mother when you were born. It means he either died, or left.”
“Okayyyy,” I wondered why any of this was significant.
“In other words, your eyes tell people you were misborn. That you were born out of wedlock,” Chance said.
“Get to the point,” I scowled.
“You have the eye color of a bastard, Holly.”
“So?”
“That’s what Boothby meant. It’s not that big a deal being a bastard, but a bastard of the royal line means you lost out on a lot. Plus you’ve been homeless your whole life. He could probably guess that from your appearance,” Chance said.
“So it is about my clothes. I knew it.” I felt my face go red yet again.
“It’s your clothes, your hair, your state of being. Look.” Chance picked up my hand.
I looked. The fingernails were torn, and two had dried blood on them.
“That is one neglected hand,” said Chance. “All these things tell people about you.”
The corners of my mouth turned down. I took a deep breath.
“So what can I do about it?”
“I’m glad you asked,” he smiled. “You’re not the first homeless orphan faeborn I’ve met. I suggest that tonight you have a good long bath. Scrub every inch of yourself.”
“A bath.” I said flatly.
“Yes. A bath. In a tub. With soap. You’ve had baths before, haven’t you?”
“Aunt Clare and I visited the fountains in summer and splashed all the dirt off ourselves,” I said.
Chance closed his eyes.
“No.” He opened them again. “Okay, I will show you what to do. Tonight, we work on this. Then tomorrow, we get you a haircut, a manicure, and a toothbrush.”
“What’s a manicure?”
“Come on,” he stood up, his chair scraping the wooden floor. “Let’s go upstairs to our room. I’ll explain everything as it happens.”
I got up and followed him.
Our room was actually two beds, each in its own cupboard, with a central space.
My cupboard was decorated with carved flowers, painted pink and green, on the doors.
Chance opened the doors and showed me how to put my bag on the shelf at the bottom, and how to climb up to the bed on the top.
The bed was a dream. I’d slept on the mattress Aunt Clare and I had used; when I was smaller we’d both fit on it. It was better than the floor, but the springs poked out in several spots and stuck me. I ended up on the floor half the time, because I’d roll off the mattress trying to avoid the metal wires. Once, I woke up with a red, bleeding scratch from them.
This bed was soft, and had sheets! And several blankets, and a pillow!
I started to climb up onto it, but Chance stopped me.
“First, a bath.” He led me to the bathroom, which was a separate room all its own. A large tub and a washbasin, and a toilet! I couldn’t believe it!
“Here, see? You turn on both faucets, and feel the water temperature until you like how warm it is,” he said. “But you don’t want it too hot, see?”
I watched as the bathtub slowly filled with water.
“Here, I’m going to add some soap to the water, and you use a little on your hair, too. Okay?”
He poured a small drop of soap out of a bottle onto the water crashing out of the faucet.
It frothed into the water and filled the top of the tub water with so many bubbles!
“These look clean,” I said.
“Yes, they are clean. And they will make you clean.” He turned the faucets off, and the water stopped pouring in.
“You want to leave room for yourself, because the water level will rise as you get in and sit down in the water,” Chance said.
I looked at the gleaming white bubbles in the tub. I’d only ever seen bubbles in the canal, and they had been brown and greasy.
I touched a bubble with my finger. It popped and sprayed my face, and I laughed.
“Okay,” Chance smiled. “I’m going to leave you in here. Now listen: Take all your clothes off, every bit, and get into the water. And be careful: the bubbles make the tub slippery. Don’t fall and conk your head.”
I nodded, still looking at all the bubbles.
“Hey,” he bent over and lifted my chin with his finger. He looked into my eyes until I focused on him.
“I mean it. Be careful of the slippery tub.”
I nodded solemnly.
He stood up and walked out, closing the door behind him.
I looked around the bathroom. It was bright and clean and smelled good. I looked at the toilet, then started taking everything off.
I placed my shoes and clothes on the floor in a neat line, then turned to the tub. As I walked up to it, I caught the sight of myself in the mirror. I’d never seen a mirror before; that’s why I’d never known what my eyes
looked like. Now, I saw more than my eyes: I was filthy.
I had dirt smeared everywhere. There was a line around my ankles, where my sneakers ended. My feet were a little dirty, but from my ankle upward, my legs were covered in grime.
The same thing had happened on my arms.
And on my neck. I could see the line where my shirt collar ended. My neck above it was filthy.
I turned my head and looked at my ear in the mirror.
I could see where Jess had cleaned away the blood and grime from my ear. The bandage had half come off where she’d stuck it.
I reached up and slowly peeled it away, cringing as I pulled.
I leaned closer.
My ear was a mess. The cut was across the outer edge, and there was a small tear in the flesh.
I touched it gingerly with my finger, and it stung.
I shivered.
I was getting cold standing there, so I turned back to the tub and sat on the edge.
I lifted my feet over and slipped them past the bubbles and into the warm water, and closed my eyes in pleasure.
I carefully slipped the rest of the way into the tub, and sunk down into the water.
Oh, it was bliss! Sheer bliss!
How had I ever not known of this?
The fountain Aunt Clare and I washed in had been cold, and we’d always been careful not to get any of the water on our face. Not in our mouth, nor in our eyes.
Aunt Clare had told me about microbes and bacteria: tiny creatures that could enter through your face and make you sick.
The water in the fountain had been so cold you couldn’t stay in it for any length of time without starting to shiver.
This, however, was pure joy.
I could not help myself. I slipped all the way in. I put my entire face into the warm, bubbly water.
The feeling was fantastic.
I stayed lying in the bathwater for a very long time. The water started to grow cooler.
Then I remembered. Chance had said to put soap in my hair and wash it.
I dribbled a small bit of the slick soap on my hands, then massaged it into my hair.
It felt great!
My head felt so good as I washed my hair.
Brown grime mixed with the bubbles and dripped into the water.
“Wow.” I had been filthy.
I dipped my head into the water to rinse it. I had to dip it into the water over and over and over, until the soap was mostly washed out.
Then I soaked some more, lying back in the tub, my hair piled up on top of my head, and my eyes closed.
I felt like a queen.
I lay there for a long time. The bathwater grew cool.
There was a soft knock at the door.
“Hey in there. Are you okay? It’s been over an hour,” Chance called through the door.
I sat up, splashing myself in the face.
Almost all the bubbles had popped. The water was dirty.
“Um, I’ll be done in a minute,” I called.
I stared at the water.
All the dirt that had been on me was in the water.
I looked at my arms. They were pale, and clean, scrubbed and pink from the warmth of the bathwater.
I grinned.
I felt wonderful!
But the water was growing positively cold, and was no longer fun. I had to get out.
I stared at the edge of the tub.
I’ll just get out how I got in.
I tried to stand in the tub, and halfway up, my feet slipped out from under me and I plopped back down into the bath, and the water sloshed over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.
I tried again, this time gripping the sides of the tub.
I almost made it all the way up before falling down again.
More water splashed out in a great wave.
A great Holly wave.
I considered my predicament.
This is not as easy as I hoped.
I decided to try something new.
I turned over in the tub until I was on my knees, then, gripping the edge, slowly brought my shoulders up out of the water.
Success!
Okay, now try the next step.
I slowly brought one knee up and put my weight on it.
It slid sideways, hitting the edge of the bottom.
“Ow.”
“You okay in there, Holly?” Chance said through the door. “Did you slip?”
“Um, I’m just having a bit of a hard time getting up out of the tub, Chance,” I said.
“Be careful. Do you need help?”
“No, no. No, no, no. I’ll be fine,” I called out.
“I hope,” I muttered under my breath.
I was still on one knee, with my foot braced against the bottom side of the tub.
Okay, slowly now. Balance!
I leaned my weight on the foot again, gripping the side of the tub, steadying myself when I felt the foot slide.
Careful ...
Then I brought the other knee up.
So far so good.
I gripped the edge of the tub, and slowly stood up.
My foot slid twice, but I caught it in time so I didn’t fall.
I finally put one foot over the side to the floor.
Success! Whoops!
As I transferred my weight to the foot on the floor, my foot still in the bath slid.
I leaned forward and grabbed the towel hanging on the rod next to the bathtub, and stumbled out of the tub.
I stood there, breathing hard. I had never concentrated so hard in my life.
After taking a deep breath, I wrapped the towel around me. It was so big and fluffy!
I glanced at my clothes lined up on the floor and was filled with an intense repulsion. I did not want to put those filthy clothes back on.
Glancing down and my squeaky-clean feet, I decided I loved being clean.
“If I can, I want to be clean all the time,” I said under my breath.
“What?” Chance said through the door.
“Nothing,” I called over my shoulder.
I turned and opened the door.
Chance almost fell through.
“Were you leaning on the door?” I asked suspiciously.
“Oh. Oh, me? No. No, no, no. No.”
I grinned.
“You look ...” he said, considering me, his head turned to the side.
“I look what?” I asked.
“You look clean,” he said. “It’s a good look for you.”
He moved out of the doorway.
“Sorry. Come out,” he said.
“Thanks. Um, I really don’t want to put those dirty clothes back on. But I don’t have anything else to wear.”
“I thought of that,” said Chance, handing me a paper bag. “Here’s a change of clothes for tomorrow, and a nightgown and socks for tonight.”
“Oh, thank you!”
I was lying in my bed, in my new nightgown, wearing my new fuzzy socks, looking at the paper-wrapped book.
“Chance?” I called over to the other side of the room.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think I could unwrap this book? To read?”
“Oh, The Book of Halloween?” Chance asked.
“Yeah.
“Holly, that’s your book. You’re allowed to unwrap it and read it.”
I smiled, then carefully unwrapped the brown paper, setting it aside to put the book back in when I was done.
My hands were still scrubbed pink from the bath. My fingers were wrinkled and pruney. I knew I was clean enough that I didn’t need white cloth gloves to touch the book.
Besides, I had decided to add a new quirk to myself: I was going to be extra careful with all my own new things. My new clothes, my new shoes, my new books. Everything.
I carefully pulled the little blue and gold book out of the soft cloth bag the shopkeeper had wrapped it in, and opened it to the first page.
“The Book of Halloween,” I read softly. I turned
two more pages in. “The Book of Halloween. By Ruth Edna Kelley, A. M. Lynn Public Library.”
I turned to Chance. “Chance?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s a library?”
Chapter Ten
Happy Birthday
“Wake up, sleepyhead.”
The voice came to me in a dream.
I was lost in a meadow made of pink cotton candy. I kept dipping my hand down into the pink grass and stuffing it into my mouth.
There was dark pink sticky stuff all around my lips and on my cheeks.
I heard a bird calling and looked up.
It was a raven, pure black and flying low, coming toward me fast.
Too fast.
I ducked.
The bird skimmed the top of the pink cotton candy grass, squawking loudly.
I stayed low, not wanting the bird to see me.
I’m not sure why, but I knew the bird represented danger. A danger I wanted no part of.
“Wake up, wake up, wake up ...”
There was the voice again. I swung my head around, searching for the source.
The pink wispy cotton candy smelled delicious, and my tongue flicked out and grabbed a few strands, lifting them to my mouth as I hid.
Is it safe to stand up yet?
I couldn’t be sure.
I lifted my head to just below the top of the cotton candy grasses, and tried to look out on the pink meadow.
CAW! CAW! CAW!
I ducked down again. That had been close. The raven’s cries sounded almost directly overhead.
I decided to lie flat on my stomach.
There was so much cotton candy grass it still hid me.
I tried not to breathe, tried not to make any sound.
My heart beat faster in fear.
The raven must not find me!
I stayed down like that for many minutes, and did not hear the raven again.
I should be okay down here. Maybe I’ll just stay down on the ground for the rest of the afternoon. It should be safe, unless it rains ...
Almost on cue, I heard thunder overhead.
Oh no!
Fat drops began to fall, splattering on the cotton candy, tamping it down over and over until I was lying in a wide field of dark pink sticky-sweet goo.
I kept my head down.
The sticky cotton candy was now only three or four inches high, and I knew I was not hidden any more.
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