Bonded: Three Fairy Tales, One Bond

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Bonded: Three Fairy Tales, One Bond Page 14

by Michelle Davidson Argyle


  “Well, I would know if she has any gifts,” Odele said with a huff. “And she does not.”

  “As you say, Madame, but do you directly forbid her to enter?”

  Everyone turned to Odele, who stood tall and straight, her one eye blinking rapidly as she looked upon Issina shrinking back against the wall.

  “I forbid her to enter,” she finally said. “She is barely of age and I don’t like the idea of her making a fool out of all of us—entering her name without a spot of magic. We’ll be laughed at for years if word gets out.” She stepped forward, fluttering a thin fan in front of her face as she lowered her voice to the courier. “You know as well as I do that if I allow her to enter and she has no magic whatsoever it will taint my daughters’ names and possibly even affect their chances of being chosen. I cannot have that.”

  Issina tried to swallow, but something hard was lodged in her throat. Odele’s words were clearly nonsense. She wanted to step forward and demand Odele let her enter, but she curled her hands into loose fists instead and concentrated on the wounds still stinging her palms. She thought of falling at the courier’s feet and begging him to let her enter anyway, but before she could gather the courage, the courier bid everyone goodbye and left.

  When the door closed and she was once again alone, she turned to an oval mirror on the wall. She saw her hollowed cheeks, the tattered sleeves of her dress. She tried to see a cloudy haze like Edryn and Sybil had described so many times before, but there was none. Only a dim light shone in her eyes, sparkling and swirling like a distant galaxy in the milky heavens.

  The customary time before entrants were chosen was one week. Issina sulked around the house, upset with herself for not making a stronger effort to get her name entered. She watched her sisters flutter back and forth from the garden to the house with soiled fingers as they planted seeds and bulbs and chanted warm, flowing words to help the plants grow faster. No matter how much she enjoyed watching them work with the plants, it hurt to know how much they despised her for her lack of talent.

  “Get your hands out of the water and come in to listen,” Sybil said as Issina stood scrubbing the dishes in the kitchen.

  She kept her hands in the water. Sybil and Edryn often wanted her as an audience for their singing since Odele retired to bed early. Issina preferred to listen to her sisters from afar. Sitting too close to them as such exquisite sounds poured from their mouths was almost painful. It often gave her a headache despite how much she enjoyed the music. “I can hear you from in here,” she said.

  “We don’t want you in the kitchen.” Sybil stomped her foot. “Stop washing and come into the sitting room at once.”

  She pulled her hands from the water and dried them on a cloth she carried with her to the sitting room. She took her customary place in the corner on a pink-and-white striped chair and poised herself to listen.

  Edryn sang first. She wore an everyday dress. Tattered blue strings from the hem brushed the floor and Issina stared at them and thought about how she would need to cut them next time she washed the dress. If one looked closely enough, everything inside the house showed signs of wear. Issina guessed it would be a matter of a few short years before things fell apart and the family truly looked like the paupers they were.

  Edryn’s voice rang through her mind, clear and glassy. Her sisters sang beautiful words, but she didn’t understand them. To her they were tree branches filled with rounded syllables in the shapes of pears and strawberries and apples, then long and flayed like leafy branches. They floated above the air and threaded through her thoughts. She swayed back and forth with the gentle rhythms Edryn created. The room seemed to shrink and she thought of swirling trees and stars and roots. She thought of the crumbs she had eaten from Edryn’s plate and how wonderful and awful it was that she had devoured them. She tried to push thoughts of food from her mind, but it was difficult. Finally, as Edryn’s voice consumed her, the food disappeared and she saw stars once again. She saw a man’s face she didn’t recognize. He was tall and thin like the trees surrounding him. He beckoned to her from a sea of green leaves.

  “Her corra has changed,” Sybil whispered. “It’s working.”

  Edryn’s voice faded to silence and Issina opened her eyes. “What did you say?”

  Edryn and Sybil looked at her with blank expressions. “Nothing,” Sybil finally said with a flit of her hands. “Only that Edryn has improved since last time. Her voice obviously affects you.”

  “What do you mean? Of course it affects me. Your singing is lovely.”

  “It’s more than that.” Edryn leaned down. Her freckles looked brighter today. “Lately, whenever I sing, I see your thoughts.”

  2

  Gifts

  She couldn’t sleep that night. Instead, she stood across the room with her arms wrapped around herself and looked at Sybil and Edryn as they slept soundly in their beds. Sybil’s red hair and Edryn’s black hair seemed to light the darkness like fire and shadow. She remembered the thoughts she had allowed in her mind when Edryn sang, the man’s face she didn’t recognize. She had never been attracted to a man before, but as Sybil and Edryn had grown into beautiful women over the past few years, she had allowed herself to realize that her own body was changing as well. Her arms were graceful, her hips as round as petals, her waist like the slender trunk of a new sapling. Even her hair had changed into thick curls. But she rarely had time to keep it clean. Any man would laugh at her, especially one as calm and gallant as the one in her thoughts.

  She touched her forehead. She wanted to pull every thought out like ribbons and toss them to the floor in a pile. It was no wonder Sybil and Edryn didn’t tell anyone about their ability to see thoughts. She wanted her mind empty—a void her sisters could never interpret. She squeezed her waist tighter and sank to the floor. The crumbs in her stomach had dissolved into nothing. Tomorrow she would try to find more berries. She would have to forge a new path through the woods because she had eaten all the berries along her regular path.

  Cassia stayed close to her feet as they walked to the well, searching for more berries. There were none left, just as she had feared.

  “Maaaa.”

  “I’m hungry too, girl.” She touched her stomach. “Very hungry. Edryn and Sybil left me almost nothing from their breakfast.”

  Cassia nudged her thigh toward a scraggly, sickly-looking bush with no berries on it whatsoever. “There’s nothing here, Cassia. It’s almost dead. The frost must have killed it. Maybe if Sybil or Edryn were to charm it.... ”

  She stopped and looked at Cassia, who stared up at her with her huge, glassy eyes.

  “Ummm...” She set down her empty water buckets and backed away from the bush, her thoughts spinning as she tried to remember the words her sisters uttered.

  “Undindu... tiluviedi... hi... hi... uhhh, Cassia, I don’t remember.”

  The goat kept staring at her.

  “Uhhh... tiluviedi... himula... shem av elham....” She hung her head. “I don’t know. They raise their fingers like this and turn like this and their words are so beautiful and fragile and quick.” She mimicked her sisters’ graceful movements, but felt clumsy just trying. She uttered the words again, this time faster. The air seemed to warm around her and she stopped and looked at the bush. Nothing.

  Cassia turned and started up the path again. Issina followed. Her stomach growled. “I wish I did remember. I’m so hungry. We should try making a new path, but I’m tired.”

  Cassia stopped.

  “Maybe we should sit down for a bit.”

  “Maaaa.”

  They found a well-shaded area beneath a large pine tree. The ground was soft with fallen needles and moss, and the spicy smell of pine and sap was pungent in the air. She rested her head against the tree and stared at her empty water buckets.

  “They won’t be happy I’m taking so long. Lunch will be late.” She yawned and put a trembling hand over her mouth. “I need a few minutes to rest, that’s all.”

&nbs
p; Cassia lowered herself next to the buckets and closed her eyes. Issina did the same.

  When she woke, her cheek was pressed to the pine needles. The smell of soil was heavy and her stomach growled again.

  “Maaaa.”

  Sitting up, she blinked in the late afternoon light. Cassia stood next to a flat tree stump a few feet away.

  Issina blinked.

  “Cassia? What...?”

  The goat turned to look at the stump where a full meal had been set out on silver plates. A goblet of wine sparkled in the sun. Issina inched forward, her mouth already wet with anticipation. She licked her lips, sure this was only a dream.

  A silver bowl held a bright clump of leafy greens smothered in a rich glaze. Sugared dates lined the edge of the bowl. On a platter were mushrooms and yams coated with a crust of thyme and rosemary. Golden-baked bread steamed on a board next to a bowl filled with what she guessed were sliced mangoes, a delicacy she had seen at the market only once. The orange-yellow flesh dripped with juice.

  “Cassia, what is this?” She looked at her arm and pinched it hard. “Ow!” She stared at the red mark and then looked around the forest. Nothing seemed disturbed. There were no footprints in the soil around them. She turned back to the food. Her stomach seemed to reach out with invisible hands. She saw her own hands move toward the utensils.

  She ate quickly. She had never tasted anything so delicious in her entire life. When it was gone, she sat back and hugged herself in embarrassment. Cassia looked at her in silence.

  “What?” she asked, and laughed. “I told you I was hungry!” Then she covered her mouth. “I didn’t give you any! Oh, girl, I’m sorry.” She reached out to scratch between the goat’s ears. “I’m sorry.”

  Cassia didn’t seem too put out. She snuggled her nose into Issina’s shoulder. Issina looked back at the tree stump to see if there were any crumbs left, but everything had disappeared.

  The house was aflutter with giggles when she returned. The trip back from the well had happened so quickly she hardly remembered it. Her body felt as if a million stars had been poured into it, lighting her up with energy.

  Sybil and Edryn were all smiles and laughter when she entered the kitchen. She caught sight of them through the doorway as they danced around the sitting room.

  Odele looked up from the vegetables she was chopping. “They have been chosen,” she said with a puff of air escaping her mouth. “They will perform at the festival and at least one of them will be chosen as a grower. We will be blessed. Only one month until the festival.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Odele glared at her. “I didn’t mean you will be blessed. You’ll continue in your station no matter what happens.”

  “Yes.” Issina bowed her head in submission as Odele approached her.

  “Look at me, child.”

  She looked up and Odele’s eye searched her face. Her forehead knotted and she took Issina’s face in one hand, turning it side to side to look at her cheeks. “Something is different. What have you been up to?”

  “Nothing, Mother.” Her heart pounded. She tried to disguise the joy she felt from eating so much food—tighten her face, stiffen her body— but she didn’t know how to hide it. She pursed her lips together. Maybe Odele could smell the food on her breath.

  “Your cheeks... they....” She leaned forward, sniffing.

  Issina froze. “I’m flushed from the walk outside,” she stammered against the hand squeezing her face.

  Odele’s eye blinked slowly. Her fingers trembled before she finally lowered her hand.

  “Get back to work.”

  “Yes, Mother.” She bowed her head and set about preparing food that, for once, she didn’t want to eat.

  The sun rose warmer than usual the next morning as she traveled along the path to fetch water. Frost left over from the night’s storm melted steadily from the leaves. Drip, drip, drip, and she thought of roots deep in the earth. She looked to the tops of the trees and imagined their roots similar to the branches above—an interconnected world webbed around her with its green magic. When she reached the well, she set down her buckets and leaned against a tree to rest. Cassia sat down next to her.

  “I’m afraid to rest today,” she said to the goat, and chuckled. “I want to see if food appears again, but I’m worried that if it does I will get too used to the nourishment.”

  Cassia looked up at her with a blank stare.

  “Never mind.” She turned and ran her fingers along the tree trunk. Its bark was old and weathered, chipping away. Spongy moss grew in the deep crevices, and in the moss, other tinier, more delicate plants grew, some with white flowers shaped like stars. A shiny beetle scuttled across the trunk and she watched its legs skitter back and forth without a sound.

  Touching the moss, she muttered the growth charm once again. She focused her heart and mind on thoughts of roots reaching for water, of leaves bending to the sun and petals unfolding like a child’s expectant hand, but nothing happened no matter how intently she looked at the moss.

  Exhausted, she pressed her face to the cool bark and closed her eyes, gasping when the man’s face appeared in her mind once again. He beckoned to her from the leaves. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, determined to see more of him, even if it was only in her mind. There was something about him that made her ache inside, as if a part of her had been ripped away and only he knew how to fix it. She reached out to him. He was perfect and beautiful. He smiled with inviting, graceful lips. His clothing blended with the trees.

  “Maaaa.”

  She opened her eyes and glared down at Cassia. “Don’t do that! I saw him again. I don’t know what it means. I don’t know—” She stopped as soon as she spotted the food. It was spread on a wide log near the well, steaming and hot. There were biscuits and berries sprinkled with cinnamon.

  Rushing forward, she fell to the ground and ate as fast as she could. She licked her fingers as she chewed, this time remembering to throw Cassia a biscuit. As she ate the meal, she thought of the face in her mind. The food seemed conjured by his hand, for she was sure that before she opened her eyes he had motioned to her to eat.

  The days blurred into an elegant, swirling spiral of rain and sun and steaming food in the forest. Edryn and Sybil sang and planted seeds and called out their charms. Plants grew in the garden like arms reaching for the sky. Flowers bloomed and vegetables fattened. Issina saw the man more often in her mind. She felt the now familiar ache in her heart when she saw him and followed him into the trees. She listened to him sing, but every time she came close to touching him, he vanished, and she would open her eyes to another meal. Her hair grew silkier. Her figure began to curve and fill out like Sybil’s. Worried her sisters would notice but too frightened to waste even a crumb of the food, she tossed Cassia more and more bites each day. Soon, the goat’s protruding ribs disappeared behind a layer of fat.

  “I feel so alive,” she said with a laugh as she walked back to the house. Water sloshed onto the trail from her buckets. She paid no heed. Gilbert and Gissy followed behind her, Cassia behind them. When they reached the house, she stopped in her tracks. An unfamiliar coach was parked on the road near the gate. Two white horses stood in front of the coach, their manes braided with purple ribbons. Her breath caught in her throat. Purple ribbons meant a royal or noble visitor from the palace.

  She looked down at her tattered, dirty clothes and headed to the back of the house. She couldn’t possibly let nobility see her. The last time she had seen someone from the palace she had been eight years old with chicken guts drying on her fingers. She had come out of the kitchen to ask Odele how she wanted the meat prepared, and a countess dressed in clothes finer than anything Issina had seen in her life turned to face her.

  “Who is this odd little duck?” Her voice was thick and deep.

  “She is our servant,” Odele said with a wave of her hand and a glare in Issina’s direction. “She’s nobody. Pay no attention to her.”

  It was at that m
oment she realized her role in the family. She stared at the diamonds roped around the countess’s short neck and then at her own sticky hands laced with guts and blood. The delicate scent of sweet perfumes and powders floated from the countess’s body, crushed roses and lilies, and Issina heard her ask Odele how long she had employed a servant.

  “She is not employed. She is my daughter, but she owes a debt.”

  “I see.”

  When she stepped back into the kitchen to wash the guts from her hands, she thought of the smaller portions of food she was given during meals. She thought of Edryn and Sybil’s finer clothing. She thought of Odele’s kinder words to them, and tears sprang to her eyes. She lifted the dead chicken from the cutting board and watched blood drip to the floor, watery and thin. She wondered if the chicken had felt fear before Odele raised the cleaver to its neck.

  Now, years later, she entered the kitchen. Her heart pounded when she heard a male voice from the sitting room. It was a voice so clean and precise it could only belong to nobility, just like the countess. Her hands shook as she set down her water buckets and stared out the door leading to the hallway. The last time she had faced nobility her world had turned upside down. She took one step forward, and then another. When she reached the door, she peeked into the dark hallway. The voice was louder.

  “No, Madame Grenefeld, I only meant to say I have heard so much about you and your daughters’ beauty. I must say the rumors are absolutely true.”

  Odele’s giggle fluttered through the hallway. “Oh, Lord Ashcombe, you’re too kind. We have not had a member of the nobility here for years. I was afraid our unique looks had frightened everyone away!”

  “Not at all, Madame. I assure you it is only because others are intimidated by honest beauty. Now, tell me, are the rumors true that your daughters have been accepted to perform?”

  “Oh, yes!” Sybil’s voice rang out. “It is quite true.”

 

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