First Light (18 page)

“You’re the driver,” I gasped, recognizing her. “The one who brought me here.”

“Zipporah at your service.” She executed a speedy curtsy as my eyes darted to Cristian. He shrugged as if to say he
didn’t
know her. Henrie was looking all around the wagon, trying to determine where she’d come from. She had appeared rather suddenly.

Out of thin air, almost.

Zipporah grinned and began skipping back and forth in front of me. Fascinated by this odd woman, I allowed my eyes to follow her movements. Though she was sort of roundish in body—
not unlike Merry Anne and Florence
— she appeared very light on her feet, rising high off the ground with each step. And on her feet were the most unusual pair of shoes I’d ever seen. They appeared to be leather on top and had laces that crisscrossed up toward her ankle, but the bottoms were thick and white and— bouncy. Each time her foot rose in the air, I glimpsed a pattern on the sole.

“Aren’t they lovely?” She asked when she’d noticed my staring. She stopped, pointing a wide, curved toe at me.

Lovely
wasn’t exactly the word I would have chosen. The shoes were, in fact, quite ugly.

“
So
comfortable, and
so
fast.” Her eyes sought mine. “Would you like a pair? I could get you one next time I go?”

Go where?
I guessed it must be far away— probably in another kingdom— for no cobbler I’d ever met made anything remotely like the apparatus covering her feet. But never having been one to choose fashion over comfort, I nodded
.
“Yes, please.”

Behind me, Henrie cleared his throat. “I’ll be heading back to the castle now. Cristian.”

I caught Henrie’s unspoken question. Would Cristian join his friend— or would he help me as promised?

“You’re not staying to pick apples?” The woman took a step toward Henrie. Her eyes narrowed, making her face look almost comical, what with the way her brown hair hung in loopy braids on either side of her head.

“It’s getting cold out, and I’m tired,” Henrie said defensively.

“Build the poor boy a fire, Adrielle,” Zipporah ordered.

“Yes. Yes! Build a fire.”
Another
smallish woman appeared behind the wagon. She had the same build as the first, but her hair was flaming red and curly and hung well past her shoulders. It stood out against, but somehow complimented, her bright yellow dress.

“Who are you?” Henrie demanded.

“Kindra.” Turning to me she said, “Do build a fire, Adrielle. I’ve seen the smoke from the kitchen, but I’ve waited ever so long to
see
you make flames.”

Instead of heeding her request, I stood there flabbergasted. Henrie and Cristian seemed to be in much the same state. “You’ve
waited
to—” I began.

“Nice, sister.” The first woman elbowed the second.

“Zip it, Zipporah.”

“Can’t,” she said in a sing song voice as she skipped around us. “Zippers haven’t been invented yet.”

“Didn’t keep you from bringing back that appalling footwear,” Kindra said.

Zipporah circled us again. “It isn’t my fault I’m so fast that I ran into the next century. And if you think my shoes are strange, you should see—”

“Wait,” I held up my hand, wanting to stop the conversation before I became any more confused. I backed up to the last thing they’d said that made any sense at all. “Wait a minute. You two are
sisters
?”

They looked at one another and nodded. “Unfortunately,” Kindra said.

“And would you happen to be related to
Merry Anne and Florence
?”

“How’d you ever guess?” Florence asked, popping up from— behind the wagon, of course.

Henrie marched around to the back side of the wagon and stood there— presumably to catch the next woman who magically appeared.

“We look nothing alike,” Florence said. “And those two don’t even act like they’re—” A whack on the head from a bent stick in Kindra’s hand silenced her.

Eyes on Kindra and her stick, Cristian moved closer to my side, took my arm and gently pulled me out of striking distance. Realizing he meant to protect me, I felt warm all over.

“And where might Merry Anne be?” I asked the trio of women.

“Not here,” Henrie called, as if his patrolling the wagon had somehow stopped the

appearance of any more odd personages. He marched back and forth, running his fingers along the

side and peeking under the bed every few steps.

“Oh she’s about somewhere,” Kindra said. “Now please, Adrielle, build your fire.

“Right next to an orchard?” Florence asked. “Are you mad? Do no such thing, Adrielle.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kindra said. “Because you can’t
see
your gift.” This time it was Zipporah who interrupted. The swift kick she applied to Kindra’s backside both quieted her and sent her stumbling forward.

“Stop it, you two,” Zipporah said. “You’re both being ridiculous.”

“Merry Anne will not come.” Florence spoke with authority. “And I daresay she would be most displeased to find us all here together.”

“You leave then. I was here first,” Zipporah said.

Kindra stamped her foot in the dirt. “I’m not leaving until I see her build a fire.”

“
No
fires,” Florence reiterated. “Not here. Not anywhere out in the open, Adrielle. That is most important. Now—” She turned to her sisters. “I gather what you’re after. And we can settle this easily with a question.” She looked at me again. “Adrielle. Please tell us which gift you find most useful— your ability to run fast, your aptitude with fire,
or
your instinct with regards to flora.”

Again I was speechless.
Which gift? What does she mean by that?
Certainly I was good at each of the things she’d mentioned, but only because I did them so often— right? I ran fast because I’d been running for years. It was the thing I’d done to keep up with and then get away from my older siblings.

If I was good at starting fires, it was from recent practice. As for my knowledge of plants and herbs— I knew I wasn’t the only one with such skills. As farmers, our family had relied on nature for nearly all our needs. Jars of herbs and spices were not purchased where I came from. If I wanted something, I had to grow it myself or find it in the forest. How to properly prepare and use such flora had been something taught to me the same as with all the farming girls’ skills…
hadn’t it?
I frowned, deep in thought, realizing that my mother never had come out to the woods, collecting with me. Nor could I ever recall her with mortar and pestle in hand.

“What do you mean…
gift
?” I asked the women standing in front of me.

Florence gasped. “Did I say that? I meant
talent.
Which talent do you prefer?”

“Sister,” Kindra tugged on Florence’s sleeve. “Look.” She pointed her stick, a gnarled twisty thing with a blackened end, at the sky.

Along with Cristian and Henrie, I looked up. I saw nothing and turned back to the sisters.

“Now you’ve done it,” Zipporah said. For the first time since her arrival, she was still.

“We’ve
all
done it,” Florence said solemnly. “It doesn’t matter who was here first. You know what Merry Anne said.”

With slumping shoulders, they began walking into the orchard. I looked to the sky once more, to see what had caused this change, but again saw nothing. And when I glanced again at the orchard, they had disappeared.

“What?” Henrie raced to the closest trees, darting in and out, searching. Cristian and I followed at a slower pace.

“Where’d they go?” Henrie asked. “They can’t just be
gone
.”

Cristian knelt, looking at the ground for footprints— footprints that ended suddenly. “It’s almost as if they— vanished.”

Having nothing to add to their assessment, I kept quiet. Admittedly I was still thinking about— and disturbed by— Florence’s use of the word, “gift.”

Henrie walked over to me, an accusatory gleam in his eye. “You keep strange company, Adrielle.”

“Yes,” I agreed, feeling suddenly quarrelsome. Taking his same, rude tone I replied, “I have been spending quite a bit of time with
you
these past few days.”

“Ho! She got you.” Cristian slapped his knee, then stood and moved closer to me. “So— you run fast, start fires, grow plants,
and
have a keen wit.”

I shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Speaking of playing with fire,” Henrie muttered.

“Nonsense.” Cristian stepped away from me. “I’m here to pick apples, so let’s get busy.”

“It’s too cold,” Henrie said.

I ignored him but could not ignore Florence’s voice, higher and squeakier than usual, ringing in my ear. “No fires, Adrielle. It’s too dangerous.”

In my other ear, I swore I could hear Merry Anne. “She’s right. Fire equals danger. Always remember that.”

I shook my head to clear it and leaned into the nearest tree, certain the only danger was the very real possibility I was losing my mind.

“The audacity.” Queen Nadamaris tightened her grip on the telescope, her knuckles growing as white as the hair piled high on the right side of her head. “For nearly a month enchanted sparks have risen in the smoke from the Canelian castle.”

“It’s the fairies showing off, letting you know they’re in residence until the royal wedding.” Hale sprawled casually on a marble bench on the far side of the turret.

“I
know
that.” The queen whirled around, flinging the telescope at her son. It bounced off a stone wall near his head and clattered to the floor, cracking.

“Temper, temper,” Hale clucked. “You shouldn’t let them upset you, Mother. It isn’t as if anything’s changed. We both knew this time would come.”
When all hope of Cecilia would be gone.

“
I
do not accept it,” Nadamaris shouted. “Nor will you.” She started toward him then stopped, her nose wrinkling. “Have you forgotten the way I had your friends killed— but spared your miserable life— after your latest failure? You ought not chide me about my temper, when
you
are at the root of it.”

“It’s too bad about the pearls.” Hale didn’t bother trying to sound contrite. “Though Merry Anne would have made it to the castle whether or not we kept them.”

“But she wouldn’t have arrived with a
charmed bracelet
for the princess.”

All the better for Cecilia that she did.
He shrugged then scratched vigorously at the scraggly beard trailing from his chin until a large insect fell from it, dropping to the stone below. He lifted his good foot, smashing the thing before it could crawl away.

“Repulsive.” Nadamaris turned away from her unkempt son, a slight shudder rippling across her back. “I don’t know why you try so hard to be abhorrent. It’s unnecessary. Your foot is enough to disgust anyone.”

“Ah, but it’s not so frightening as your head, Mother.” Hale knew it dangerous to mock her, but he couldn’t seem to help it.
Does it matter what she does to me anyway?
As the bleeding heart neared perfect bloom, he felt his will to live slipping away.
Why not aggravate Mother and have her end my misery now?
He placed his hands behind his head— and his long, thick, dark hair— and leaned against the wall.

Nadamaris faced him once more. Her eyes narrowed to cat-like slits; her bluish lips puckered. She pointed an inch-long, blood-red nail at him. “I’ve told you never to speak of it.” One hand went self-consciously to the perfectly-coifed locks on the right side of her head. After checking that not a hair was out of place, her fingers slid to the left half of her scalp— completely bald. “Never forget how my sister paid for this.”

“With her life,” Hale said, more than familiar with the sordid tale. “Your methods haven’t changed much in forty years— eliminate anyone who annoys you.”

“
After
they’ve suffered,” Nadamaris reminded him. She stepped forward, grabbed a chunk of his hair, and ripped it out.

Hale ground his teeth together to keep from screaming but could not stop the moisture that sprang to his eyes.

Nadamaris’s mouth relaxed into a childish pout. “But the most aggravating person has eluded me these many years, and soon it will be too late. With the bracelet safely in Cecilia’s possession, she is practically untouchable.”

“She
is
untouchable,” Hale said, immensely glad of it.

“She wouldn’t be, had you not let some
girl
take the pearls from you.” The Queen’s lip curled in a sneer as she stared down at her son’s twisted leg. “Of course Merry Anne might as well have sent a crawling baby.”

“Cruel words will not spur me into action,” Hale said, doing his best to ignore the throbbing in his scalp. “Though perhaps some fine ale.”

“
No
.” The queen’s tone was severe. “You’re to remain absolutely sober. You’re inadequate enough without spirits involved.”

“My— abnormalities— are at least as much your fault as mine. And by Baldwine, Mother, a little liquor now and then helps.”

“A
little?
” Nadamaris scoffed. “A
little
is not what has rotted your teeth and soured your breath. But let me guess… You’d had a
little
when you let that girl get away with the bracelet?”