I found myself only half-listening. Cursed seemed to sum up my whole existence. “Pity the pearls don’t warn against someone pretending to be something they aren’t.” Unable to stop the tears leaking from my eyes, I closed them and pressed my hand to the bodice of my dress, feeling the bracelet beneath the fabric. Knowing it was still there was oddly comforting. This enchantment is all I have. How I wished Papa could have seen it.
I opened my eyes and stared at Merry Anne for a long moment, wondering if I was hallucinating— or maybe even dreaming. Perhaps I had fallen asleep and was imagining this whole exchange. Bracelets didn’t float in the air; pearls didn’t grant wishes— except that I’d already seen one do just that— and jolly little ladies didn’t do magic with knitting needles.
I blinked and wiped the tears from my eyes, but Merry Anne did not disappear. “Are you some sort of fairy godmother or something?” I asked, recalling the conversation when Papa had told me magic was all around us.
“Heavens no,” she exclaimed as she returned her needle— or whatever it was— to her pocket. “That system went out some time ago.” She paused, a reflective look on her face. “With Cinderella, I believe.”
“Cinder— who?”
“Cinderella,” Merry Anne said. “They called her that because she slept by the fire among the ashes and cinders each night.”
“Kind of like me?” I asked, glancing toward my discarded pillow and blanket, lying beside the hearth.
“Why, yes,” Merry Anne said. “I hadn’t thought of that. It is the perfect hiding place, you know. She wouldn’t dare to come near a castle fire emitting sparks.”
“She? Sparks?” My head ached. Why was it that everything Merry Anne or her sisters said never made any sense?
“But things were different with Cinderella. She had only a cruel stepmother and ugly stepsisters standing in her way to true happiness. The worst they could do was lock her in a tower— piece of cake for even the simplest of guardians.” Merry Anne snapped her fingers. She pulled up a stool and sat down, as if intending to stay a while. “Nowadays magic is such that most jobs would be too much for one person— er, fairy. We work as a team.”
“You’re telling me you are a fairy?” I asked, feeling the need to sit down myself. I reached out, grabbing the nearest stool.
Merry Anne nodded. “Yes, as are my sisters who, I believe, you’ve already had the misfortune to meet.”
“What is it you do?” Whether I was dreaming or not, our conversation was getting interesting, as well as taking my mind mostly off a certain prince. Abandoning any attempt at making dough, I leaned forward, elbows on the table as I listened in earnest.
“Our specific job is to protect the royal Canelian family— particularly the princess.” Merry Anne’s tone sounded quite serious compared with her usual, merry, self. “Nadamaris is capable of far more than locking one in a tower,” she finished gravely.
“Protecting Cecilia requires four of you,” I asked.
“We pray four is enough to protect the princess,” Merry Anne said.
“Speaking of Cecilia— the Cecilia who is my sister—” Fascinating though our current topic was, I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to do or think about Merry Anne and her sisters being fairies. I’d seen their magic, but admitting that, and putting a name to it, somehow altered— everything. In my limited experience, fairies existed only in legends. If they are real, aren’t they supposed to have wings? And whoever heard of a magic knitting needle? But more pressing than my numerous questions, I desperately wanted to get information about my sister while I had the chance.
“We do have wings,” Merry Anne said, giving me a pointed look. “Along with a most uncanny ability to read minds.”
I shivered beneath her stare.
“But the knitting needles were all my idea.” Her rosy-cheeked smile was back. “We each get to choose our own implement, you know.”
“Florence picked a garden spade?” I guessed.
“And shears,” Merry Anne said, lifting her face so her nose was in the air. “'Twas really unfair you know— my needles were a set, but she chose two completely different objects. Then Zipporah followed with those awful shoes. Kindra was really the only one who kept to the rules.”
I placed my chin in my hands. “There are rules to being a fairy?”
“Of course,” Merry Anne said. “We’ve all got rules we must follow or things get out of balance. That’s what happened with Nadamaris.”
I yawned— not because I was bored, but because the late hour was starting to get to me.
“Oh my, speaking of rules—” Merry Anne hopped down from her stool and ran around the table to stand beside me. “You mustn’t let me babble on so. We’ve got work to do.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I think I’m going to be able to sleep after all. But first, please tell me where I can find Cecilia.”
“Cecilia is in the castle, and all is well there. You needn’t concern yourself.” Merry Anne touched each of my shoulders, then stepped back, moving her hands around in the air, as she mumbled a series of numbers. “Yes. That ought to be about the right size. Pity it has to be brown, but we want you to blend in, to appear as a commoner.”
I was suddenly too tired to be curious about what she was doing now. I made one last attempt to glean information about Cecilia. “How can I not concern myself with my sister?” I slid from my stool and stood facing Merry Anne. I was a good head taller than she, and— fairy or not— she did not intimidate me. “You must help me see her.”
“In due time, all in due time.” Merry Anne said. “Now, about tomorrow. There are a few things you should know before your trip.”
“I’m not going.” I turned away from her and headed toward the hearth and my pillow and blanket.
“Nonsense,” Merry Anne said brightly. “You wouldn’t want to miss out on an entire day with Cristian.”
I scowled, hating that Merry Anne knew my thoughts, present and past it seemed. “The prince doesn’t need anything from me.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong.” Merry Anne followed me to the fire. “He hasn’t the vision you have— yet. And he doesn’t understand the ways of the people as you do. If you don’t go tomorrow, 'tis certain his errand will fail.”
It was my errand, I thought angrily.
“Yes. And it still is,” Merry Anne said.
“Stop doing that!” I turned to face her again. “It isn’t fair that you can see my thoughts.”
“My dear Adrielle.” Merry Anne reached out, touching my cheek. “Life isn’t fair. You, of all people, know that. 'Tis why you’re so fitting for your task.”
“What task?” I sank to the hearth and picked up my pillow, holding it close to my chest. “I’m so confused. Nothing here makes any sense. No one is who they say they are. I just want to find my sister and stay with her. I want to go home.” I lay on my side, curling into a ball on the blanket Cristian had given me. Almost at once my eyes closed, and a feeling of tranquility descended. More magic, no doubt.
“You are home, dear,” Merry Anne whispered in my ear, the hazy image of her sparkling needles fading as she spoke. “At long last, you’re home.”
It couldn’t have been more than a few hours later when knocking on the door awoke me. Ignoring the urgency of the sound, I rose slowly, stretching and yawning, though I felt better rested than I had in a good, long time. I wondered why, as I remembered staying up most of the night talking with Merry Anne— or had I?
I stepped away from my blanket and bent down to retrieve my shoes, only to find they were gone. In the firelight’s glow was a new pair— sensible and brown— that looked to be my size. As I slipped them on and did up the laces, my arms brushed the fabric of the new dress I wore. It, too, was brown and simple, but much longer than my previous one, and there were no patches that I could tell. I smiled, delighted with such a wonderful gift. Thank you, Merry Anne, I thought to myself, for I could think of no other explanation for the new wardrobe. T
he clothes meant I would have to spend my time today considering the possibility that fairies really did exist, that I knew several, and what exactly that meant about everything else in my life.
Going to the door, I unlatched the top only and pushed it open the slightest bit, being careful to retain the strings. Henrie was on the other side, holding up a lantern to light the pre-dawn hour.
“Oh good,” he said when he saw me. “You’re ready to go. And it looks like you won’t be needing these.” He held a square, paper-wrapped bundle out to me.
“I’m not going, and take whatever that is away,” I said, pulling on the handle to close the door. But Henrie was stronger, and it remained open.
“Cristian told me you might say that,” he said.
“You should have listened to him then.” I retreated into the kitchen. Henrie might be able to hold the door open, but I didn’t have to stand there and talk to him.
“Just as you both should have listened to me,” Henrie said.
“You’ve hardly spoken two words since we met,” I called over my shoulder. I headed for the hook to retrieve my apron.
“I tried,” Henrie said. “I tried to warn you both. From that first moment you and Cristian met, I could see what might happen between you two.”
This time I did not reply. What could I say when he spoke the truth? I could see now that Henrie’s coldness toward me— and his desire to keep Cristian away from me— had a purpose. Doing my best to ignore Henrie and the sorrow I felt, I went to the table to begin the day’s baking. To my surprise, I found it already done.
Laid out perfectly on shining, silver platters, were a variety of scalloped-edged pastries, the likes of which I’d never seen before. They were dainty and lovely, and— I leaned closer, inhaling their sweet fragrance— they smelled divine.
“You do have a talent for baking,” Henrie said. I turned in time to see him vault over the bottom half of the door into the kitchen. He joined me at the pastry-laden table.
“But I didn’t make these,” I said, still in shock at their sudden appearance. Were they here a few moments ago when I first arose?
“Well, either way, it appears breakfast is done. So let’s go.”
I shook my head. “I told you, I’m not going with you.”
Adrielle, Merry Anne’s voice scolded in my head. We’ve discussed this. There’s nothing to be worried about. Florence will be nearby all day if you need anything.
I turned my head, looking all around the room for her.
“What’s wrong with you today?” Henrie asked as he took my elbow and steered me toward the door.
“Everything.” When he made to undo the bottom door latch, I hung back. “You were right. I should have listened to you. And I’m trying to do that now. I need to stay away from Cristian.”
“He told me you’d say that, too.” Henrie pushed open the door and held his hand out, indicating I should go ahead. “That’s why he’s going to be riding on top. You won’t have to look at him or speak to him once all day.”
“On top?” Curious, I stepped forward, leaning out the doorway. A black, polished carriage, similar to the one that had come for me in Willowbie, stood a few feet away. I laughed. “You’re not thinking of transporting the food in that?”
“No. We’ve drivers who’ll be following us with the wagons. The carriage is for us.”
“You’re not serious,” I said, appalled at such an idea. “I’d rather walk— not that I’m going,” I added hastily.
Henrie reached for my elbow again. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now that you know Cristian’s a prince, there’s no need for him to continue on like a pauper. And take this.” Holding onto my elbow, he bent down, picking up the parcel from earlier. He thrust it into my hand. “Your dress is decent enough, but you’ll be cold without a cloak.”
Scowling at him, but curious nonetheless, I unwrapped the paper and discovered, among other articles of clothing, a fine velvet cloak inside. I allowed my fingers to slide over the soft fabric for a moment while I fought back tears of indignation and shame. I imagined Cristian’s thought process as he gathered these things— from the princess’s wardrobe, perhaps— for me… Poor Adrielle has nothing but rags to wear. I can’t go out into the township with her dressed like that.
Whereas I wouldn’t dare go dressed in the things he’d brought me. Does he know nothing about the feelings of the impoverished?
“No. He doesn’t. It’s up to you to teach him,” Merry Anne seemed to whisper in my ear.
Teaching wasn’t what I had in mind, but I decided I absolutely would show him that I didn’t need his charity or his assistance with today’s errand. After all, it had been my idea to begin with.
My cheeks burning with fury, I thrust the bundle back into Henrie’s arms. Jerking away from him, I marched into the kitchen and searched for the pastel sweater Merry Anne had knit for me. But like my old dress, it too, had disappeared.
“Look by the fire, dear. Where your shoes were.” Merry Anne’s voice again. This time I listened and saw a serviceable brown cloak lying beside my pillow and neatly-folded blanket. Had I folded it?
Not caring to decipher, at the moment, what might be up with Merry Anne or possibly my overactive imagination, I grabbed the cloak, swung it around my shoulders, and stomped out the door past Henrie. Without looking up, I continued past the sleek coach to the first of the two wagons parked beyond it. I reached up, grabbed the seat back, and hoisted myself up beside the driver.
“I’ll take those please,” I said, nodding to the reins he held loosely.
“What?” The driver looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Your services will not be needed today,” I said, reaching for the straps and taking them from him. I scooted over to the middle of the seat, pushing him to the far edge. With a snap of the reins, I called out to the horses, and the wagon lurched forward. My companion threw me a last confused look then jumped off the side of the wagon as it rolled forward past the coach.
Beside me, chaos erupted. Henrie and Cristian both yelled my name at the same time. In consequence, I sped up and drove a little too near the carriage, nearly knocking one of the lanterns loose and spooking the horses. One reared up, sending Cristian flailing backward. Irritated I’d allowed myself to look even that long, I returned my attention to the road leading to the bridge.
“This isn’t what Merry Anne had in mind,” Florence said, suddenly appearing beside me on the seat. “Though it is rather exciting.” Flashing a grin my direction, she twisted around, looking behind us. “Oooh, here he comes. The prince has jumped from the carriage and is chasing you. Slow down.” She leaned into me, placing her hands over mine and pulling back on the straps.
“No,” I cried. “He can’t catch us.” But it was too late.
“Adrielle, wait.” The next second Cristian was running alongside me and pulling himself into the still-rolling wagon. Florence was nowhere to be found.
As soon as he’d landed on the seat, I guided the horses to a stop. There was no point in continuing now that Cristian had joined me.
“We— thought— the carriage— would be more comfortable,” he explained in gasping breaths.
“It would,” I said, staring straight ahead. “But not for those people we’ll be giving the food to. They would feel most uncomfortable around something so regal. And they’d be less likely to accept our help.” I sat stiffly, unsure I’d be able to control my feelings if I allowed myself to look at him.
Cristian was silent for several seconds, save for his continued, labored breathing. “I never thought of that. Would it really make such a difference?”
“Yes,” I said. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t have expected you to know it.”
“Look at me, Adrielle,” he said quietly.
“Is that a command?” I asked, hating the bitterness in my voice.
“No. It’s a request from a friend.”
This I could not deny, though I knew that once I looked at him, my ange
r and resolve would likely lose their strength. Still, I turned toward him.
I was right. Cristian looked much as he had that first day I’d seen him in the kitchen. His shirt was untucked, his hair disheveled, and a streak of dirt— along with a nasty scratch— ran along his hairline. This was the Cristian I knew, the one who was my friend— the devil-may-care youth who did as he pleased. But because of that behavior, I reminded myself, I was hurting.
“There are two kinds of poor,” I explained, this time my voice without reprimand. “The first are those who brought the condition upon themselves through dishonest living— drinking, gambling, laziness. To be sure those people are out there, but truly, they are few.”
“And the second?” Cristian asked.
“Those that— through no fault of their own— find themselves in dire circumstances. Drought, sickness, wrong-doing of others— any number of tragic things may have happened to them, and despite their labors, they are unable to provide for their own basic needs or the needs of their families.”
I looked away, uncomfortable under his intense gaze. I didn’t want pity, and in fact I didn’t feel many regrets about the way I’d grown up. We’d had little, yet enough that we survived. “The first type of poor— those who truly might have better lives if they mended their ways— are always eager for assistance. They often feel it their due that those more fortunate than they help them. Many, in fact, turn to a life of thievery.”
“But the other kind of poor are different,” Cristian guessed.
I nodded. “We— they would prefer most anything to accepting charity. They may be poor, but they’re hard-working and proud.” I sat a little straighter in my seat. “It galls them greatly to be unable to provide for their own.” I glanced his direction. “Those are the type of people we’ll be seeing today. 'Tis only the awful drought, curse— whatever you want to call it— that has put them in this situation, and I’d bet they’re still striving to get out of it.”
Cristian leaned back against the seat. “And if I were to show up in our fancy carriage…”
First Light (Forever After Series) Page 16