The Second Sister (The Amendyr Series)

by Magdon, Rae D.

  The more I read of Belle's thoughts, the more certain I became—I was falling in love. Her heart was layered and complex. Her words were always colorful. On my first night at Baxstresse, Mam had told me that Belladonna was a poet. She was that and so much more—a poet, a storyteller, a dreamer, a lover in the classical sense. It was impossible to see Belle's deepest self and not grow attached. If I let her, I knew she would go to the ends of the earth for me.

  I was aware of my body as I had never been before. The slightest brush of fingers on my arm made my muscles seize and shiver. Whenever I thought about Belladonna—nearly always—the space below my stomach would tighten with hurt, and an emptiness ached deep inside me.

  I accepted my fate more swiftly than I would have believed possible. It took me a week and a half to admit that I was lost to her, spoiled for anyone else.

  CHAPTER 10

  “PEOPLE HAVE BEEN taking bets on who your mystery lover is, Ellie,” Sarah teased one evening as we sat next to the kitchen's fire, trying to warm ourselves before we went to sleep. “You're so distracted!” Cate was with us, staring into the flames as Sarah and I tried to coax her into conversation. So far, we had been unsuccessful.

  My cheeks blazed, and I knew from the curl of Sarah's lips that I was blushing furiously. Thoughts of Belle flooded my brain, crowding out everything else and heating me to my toes. “Not a word of it is true,” I mumbled, following Cate's example and watching the logs burn.

  “You fancy someone.” Sarah reached into her apron, holding her fist closed around something as she pulled it out. “Shall we find out how they feel about you, then?”

  I could guess what was in her hand. I did not believe in forest magic. The only real magic was done by mages, usually at the Ronin College of Sorcery. “Do you actually believe in that rubbish, Sarah?”

  Sarah opened her fist and waved a hazelnut—I had guessed correctly—in front of my face, grinning madly. “A hazelnut I throw in the flame, and to this nut I give my sweetheart's name...Now, what name is that?”

  “Did you get that from my tree?” The tree I had planted for my mother was the only hazel tree nearby that I knew of.

  “If blazes the nut, so may thy passion grow, for 'twas my nut that did so brightly glow.” Sarah and I looked at Cate, surprised into silence. It was the first time she had spoken, except to greet us.

  I took the nut from Sarah's hand and gave it to Cate. “Throw it in for me, Cate,” I told her. She took it from me and tossed it into the fire. The nut cracked, sparked, and started to glow brightly.

  “Aha!” Sarah crowed, leaning back in her chair as she watched the nut burn.

  “She loves you, Ellie.” Cate's voice was so quiet that Sarah and I could barely understand her. We watched her face as she turned away from the warm red fire and looked at us with far away, glassy eyes. “She loves you deeply. And that love will have to be enough when you break the chain.”

  Sarah's expression instantly transformed, all of the joy leaving it. “Ellie,” she hissed, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Come.” I tried to sit back down so I could ask Cate about what she'd said, but Sarah was larger than I was and she easily forced me out of the room. “You can't say anything to Cate about what just happened,” she said once we had left the kitchen.

  I hugged my arms to my chest, missing the warmth of the fire. “Why not? And why did you drag me out into the cold hallway?”

  Sarah just shook her head, clasping my wrist tighter. “You can't. Cate...perhaps you don't believe magic is all that useful, but Cate comes from a long line of seers and fortunetellers. Denari, or something...She's Amendyrri, you know.”

  Cate's complexion had given her Amendyrri heritage away already, but the information that Sarah had told me about her family history was intriguing. “Do you mean Dan'tari?” The name was familiar.

  “Yes, that's it. But how did you know?”

  I blushed. “I like to read.”

  “Never mind,” Sarah said, dismissing her surprise with a shake of her head. “Not many people know. Please, don't think any differently about her. She sees things, and sometimes doesn't even remember afterwards, but if she does, she usually becomes ill. If she looks at any of us like that, we don't talk about it.”

  The look Sarah gave me was threatening and protective, and immediately sobered me. “No, of course not. I would never think differently of Cate. I promise to keep it a secret. She is very dear to me.” I understood why Cate had kept her gift hidden from me. After all, I was doing the same thing. However, I was secretly relieved to learn I was not the only Ariada at Baxstresse.

  I smiled at Sarah and she smiled back. “Cate should be all right now,” she said, turning to go back into the kitchen. “Let's see her to bed.”

  ***

  The dream again, always the same…I was sitting by the fire in the library, my eyes resting shut. I often dozed off in the library next to the red glow of the dying fire, but this time, there was someone else in the room with me. I did not need to open my eyes to know who it was. Her presence was familiar to me. She came nearer and my breath caught in my chest, unwilling to release. I was not surprised when a hand caressed my cheek. A finger trailed down to catch under my chin, tilting it up.

  Soft lips stroked my forehead, moving down to my eyelids, kissing them. They fluttered open, leaving my gaze unfocused as a dizzying face drew close to mine. Finally, mouths met, lip seeking lip. Hard, white heat sparked along soft skin, burning flushed patches over my neck and shoulders. I saw her face. Her wet, full eyes. “Beautiful,” she said, “so beautiful.”

  Time passed too quickly, as though several minutes had been snipped out of the dream's fabric and the two edges had been stitched together again. I did not know where we were. Maybe a bed, maybe still in the library. I only knew her. She was above me, against me, in me. That last was the most distracting. I was full, stretched tight with her. Wonderful. She breathed nonsense words against my ear. I had to shut my eyes against tears. They came anyway, and she kissed them away.

  “Open your eyes, sweet girl,” she whispered. I clutched her shoulders tighter. “Your eyes, Ellie. Let me see your eyes.” I opened them, only for a moment, threading our gazes together as she touched a small star of heat between my legs that made me sob and shake in her arms. “Let go, lover. Let go. Let me catch you when you fall.”

  But when I opened my eyes, I was in Cate's arms, not Belladonna's. She was stroking my hair, whispering different words than my dream lover. I could not bury the disappointment I felt when I realized it had all been a dream. I had not really been with Belladonna.

  I forgot my sadness for a moment when I saw the concern in Cate's face. “Ellie, are you all right? You were screaming and crying. Did you have a nightmare?”

  “Yes,” I panted, relieved that she had made up my excuse for me. “A nightmare.”

  “You kept screaming Miss Belladonna's name.” My lips shook as I tried to speak, but no words came. Cate was sympathetic, gently questioning me while rubbing between my shoulders. “Was she hurting you in the dream?”

  “No. Luciana was hurting me,” I blurted out, grasping for a plausible excuse. “Belle was trying to stop her. I was screaming for help.” This was the second lie I had told my dear friend, and I regretted it. I hated to deceive Cate, but one lie always turns into two, and two into a thousand. I was getting better at it though, I realized sadly.

  To my surprise, Cate looked relieved. Her eyes flicked downward to the sheets tangled about my damp body. “She tries to hide us when she can. Belladonna, I mean. I'm glad you don't think she's...like her sister.”

  Though it had taken several weeks of service at Baxstresse to teach me how to lie, I had always been good at reading people. I knew that Cate was hiding something. She clutched my wrist with her thin fingers, her mouth set in a stiff line, her brown eyes unfocused, panicked.

  “What else, Cate?” Without realizing, our roles had reversed themselves. For the first time, I wondered why
Cate had not stayed asleep. Maybe I had screamed loud enough to wake her, but perhaps she had been struggling with her own nightmares when she heard me.

  “Sometimes she...what Luciana does, but gentler,” she said in a rush, not even able to put a name to the act. “She doesn't hurt you.”

  I knew I should have been surprised, but mostly, I was jealous. My Belle had been sleeping with the servants, but was afraid of asking me to her bed? There had been references to it in her diary, vague though they were, but I had chosen not to believe them. It was too painful to imagine Belle in someone else's arms. “With you?” was all I got out.

  “No.” Cate looked slightly embarrassed at that admission, almost pained. “She knows...she knows I don't want anyone to touch me. I can't…” I was not surprised. In Cate's limited experience, physical love only meant pain. I desperately hoped I would not share her fate if Luciana decided to give up on her bet. Although Mam disagreed with me, I was still convinced I would kill myself.

  I patted Cate's arm, prying her fingers away from my wrist to let the blood flow back into my hand. “Gently, Cate...I know...”

  “But Sarah and some of the others,” she continued, ignoring me completely, “they're infatuated with her. They say she's a dazzling lover. I've thought about it, really thought about it, but I just can't...”

  This confession had been pressing down on Cate's chest for a long time, and I forgot my jealousy to comfort her. She hadn't been with Belladonna after all. She wasn't a threat, and I scolded myself for thinking badly of her. Cate was my friend. Even if she had shared herself with Belle, I thought, could I begrudge her that small happiness? But I was secretly glad that she hadn't found the courage.

  “Do you feel like you have to?” I asked.

  “Maybe. Most of them do. I feel...strange. Maybe something is wrong with me because I don't want to?”

  “Everyone is different, Cate. Some of them might want to forget with Belladonna, but that does not mean you have to. Maybe after Luciana is gone, you will want to take a lover again. Nothing is wrong with you.” There were several things wrong with Cate, but I would never tell her that until she was ready to hear it. Not wanting to take a lover after years of abuse was nothing strange.

  Cate fell into my arms and gave me a tight hug. I could feel her warmth through our thin nightgowns, and I flinched. The sweet stabs of pain below my stomach doubled. I tried to put the dream in the back of my mind. “Will you sleep next to me?” I asked, threading my fingers with Cate's. “Both of us seem to be upset.” Having a solid, warm body next to mine would be a trial, but I could feel Cate shaking against me, and I knew that she could use the comfort.

  “All right.” Both of us settled next to each other and soon Cate slipped into an easy slumber, her breathing even and slow. Sharing her fears with me had calmed her down, but my muscles were stretched tight enough to bring tears.

  Why did it have to be Belle? I thought. Why not Cate, who is right next to me? But as beautiful as Cate was, I did not burn for her. No one could replace Belle in my thoughts. When I closed my eyes and started to fade, I forgot it was Cate pressed against me and dreamed I was with Belle.

  ***

  Talking with Sarah was probably unwise, but I needed to know how Belladonna felt about her. Worry bled my heart dry, and I had to talk to someone before I shriveled away. Belladonna had not mentioned taking lovers in her diary except in the briefest way, and I hoped that she had no real love for them. Still, I had to be sure.

  The next evening, while we were polishing the great banister along the main staircase, I spoke with her. Softly but eagerly, I asked her, resting fingertips on her arm just beneath the sleeve. Her hand stilled, holding the rag she was using to make the wood shine. “Do you love each other, Sarah?” I did not need to name her. The words would not be swallowed back.

  “So you know. It might be hard for you to understand, but no. I suppose you want to believe we're going to live happily ever after.” Oh, how she had misread me. She would have been shocked to know what dear, sweet Ellie really thought of her answer. “All I want is someone kind. I know my real lover is somewhere waiting for me, but Belladonna keeps me satisfied for now.”

  Bands of tense muscle loosened along my shoulders. Instantly, a heavy weight was lifted. “She doesn't...You don't...” My voice cracked. I dared to hope, but I clung to Sarah's wrist, hardly feeling her skin against my palm.

  “Belladonna's heart belongs to someone else. We have an understanding.” She smiled, but grief tightened her eyes. “I don't want to be Cate, flinching like a kicked dog at the thought of a kiss. When I find love, I want to be open to it. Belle helps remind me that there is still kindness and decency in the world until then.”

  “I think I understand,” I said, but my head was filled with other words. Sarah had told me that Belladonna's heart belonged to someone else. That someone was me. I knew it. The last of my heart's doubts disappeared.

  Sarah looked surprised. “You do?”

  “Yes, I do.” My smile filled out my face. Any jealousy I might have felt was drowned in love. Belle loved me. Any relationship she might have had with Sarah seemed trivial.

  “I always thought you had the kind of heart that felt too much,” Sarah said, almost to herself. “I admire that in you.” Our hands touched, our friendship solidified.

  “Cate was having nightmares last night.” I turned the conversation, our intimate connection broken but not forgotten. “I had to hold her until she fell asleep. She was shaking.”

  Sarah's shoulders dropped as she let out a heavy breath of air. Her hands were clutched tightly in her skirts. “I've seen it, too. She's not sleeping, not eating...By the way, Ellie, you've lost weight.” She fussed for a moment, brushing hair from my forehead. I smiled and shut my eyes, thinking of my sickness. Even seeing her in my imagination sent lines of gooseflesh rising along my arms.

  “Just distracted from worrying about Cate.”

  “I've asked Mam about giving her some sleep medicine. I thought it might help with the nightmares.”

  “Good idea. Maybe I could take her outside to see the horses tomorrow. She is so pale...”

  “You would be, too, if you weren't so freckle faced,” Sarah teased me. “I think you're just as sick as she is. You aren't in love, are you?”

  I knew it was a joke, but I felt my cheeks flare. I willed my face to cool and gave her a weak smile, taking the forgotten rag from Sarah's limp hand and starting to polish. “I wish that was why I seem distracted. I would much rather be in love than afraid of Luciana and worried about Cate.” The lie worked, perhaps because there was a kernel of truth in it, and Sarah and I talked of other things until we finished our work.

  Part Two, As Recorded By Eleanor Baxstresse

  CHAPTER 1

  AS AUTUMN PASSED, my days and nights were haunted by thoughts of Belladonna. In the mornings, preparing breakfast, I imagined how soft her hands would feel against my skin. I stared into empty space, picturing her eyes while the others helped Loren, the crooked-toothed old washerwoman, with her piles of clothes. On my way to visit Brahms in the stables, my skin burned hot even in the cool evening breeze.

  Thankfully, I did not have to wait on either of the Kingsclere sisters. Helping Belladonna with her clothes probably would have made my body erupt in flames. I imagined Sarah helping Belladonna out of her nightgown, tying the laces of her corset, seeing her unclothed. Those thoughts drove me wild, and I did my best to bury them. Belladonna's diary said that she was in love with me, and I took comfort in those words.

  I was constantly distracted, consumed by dreams I had not considered myself capable of having. At night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, I went to the library to read passages from Belladonna's diary. It was the best part of my day. No amount of work could put thoughts of Belladonna aside.

  There were other bright spots in my life as well. I was beginning to get used to hard labor, and sometimes I even took pride in my work. When I first made a soup on my
own, when I cleaned an entire bedroom without supervision and Jamison could find nothing wrong with it, and when I learned how to mend my own clothes, I was filled with a sense of accomplishment I would have believed impossible only a few months ago.

  For the first time, I had true friends. Growing up, I had been rich, but not titled. I was isolated from other noble children at Sandleford, and the servants' children never really accepted me as one of them. Cate, Sarah, and I had become closer than sisters, although Luciana and Belladonna were horrible examples of sisterhood, as Sarah often reminded us. Mam stepped into the role of mother and guardian, protecting us from Luciana whenever she could, doing little things to make life more pleasant.

  Jessith was also an invaluable friend, checking hallways and rooms to make sure that Luciana and Jamison were not hiding nearby. Sometimes she joined Cate, Sarah, and I while we worked, and her sarcastic commentary made me laugh at the most embarrassing moments. Luckily, Cate and Sarah took it in stride, only pestering me about my strange habits once in a while.

  Despite these joys in my new life, Luciana hovered over us like a distant storm about to break, seeking me out to play her nasty tricks and hurting Cate. She directed her cruelty toward me less frequently—she usually limited her games to once a week—but she was no less devious. One morning, she came in to the kitchen while I was preparing breakfast, holding something wooden in her hand. When she came closer, I realized it was a pair of shoes.

  I did not speak as she approached. Talking would only make my punishment worse. She was toying with that pendant again, the three-circled one of silver and gold. It winked at me as she spun it on its chain. Smiling snakishly, she stared down at my feet, holding the skirt of her morning dress above the kitchen floor with her free hand. “Well, your shoes look nearly worn through,” she said sweetly, gesturing toward my feet. It was true. The brown working shoes I had on were almost ready to fall apart. I needed to ask for new ones in a few days. I studied the wooden shoes. Surely, Luciana did not expect me to...