First Light (5 page)

“Ye— es,” I stammered.
Do I know her?
I held a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun reflecting off the polished side.

Before I had time to blink, the driver jumped to the ground, took down the step, and opened the door. She extended her arm, motioning for me to get in— something I had not the least intention of doing.

“Who are you?” I asked, stepping back.

“Zipporah, your humble servant.” She bowed so low she swept the ground. Her unusual name certainly matched her odd behavior. “Please hurry. We must be on our way if we’re to reach Tallinyne before tomorrow midnight.”

“Tallinyne? All the way to the capital?” A flurry of excitement set my heart to beating faster.
No one
would know me there. Surely I’d be able to find work.

And if women in Tallinyne are allowed to drive coaches…
I eyed the strange driver, busy turning her head to and fro at a rather frightening speed. There was something definitely peculiar about her, about this whole situation. Still—

Tallinyne.

Aside from the possibility of finding work, there was my eldest sister to consider. I’d seen the envelope addressed to Cecilia and knew she lived somewhere in Tallinyne. I’d never met her that I could recall. She’d left home shortly after my birth, but perhaps I could find her.

“Ahem.” Zipporah cleared her throat. Her toe tapped the ground impatiently.

I took a step closer and peeked inside the carriage. It was empty.

“Where are your other passengers?” I’d never seen any sort of coach this fine on our country roads. “How did you know my name?” My eyes narrowed, and once again I backed up, ready to run. I had the strangest feeling this spry old woman might easily catch me if I did, though.

“Did my father send you?” In my heart, I knew what her answer would be, but still I had to ask. During our last lesson Father had spoken to me of magic.
What if
—

“No, Adrielle. He did not.” The words were spoken kindly, and her eyes shown with compassion. But that brief moment of hope cost me dearly.

If this carriage is not from Father, then who?
It was all very disturbing. Perhaps Vetrie had arranged for my demise before I could think anymore on hers. But no, she would not have gone to such expense.

Zipporah chuckled. “You’re right. Vetrie did not arrange for this carriage. Though I’ve no doubt her eyes would bulge with jealousy were she to see you riding in it. Shall we take a short detour on our way, so we—
she—
might have that pleasure?”

“How do you know of Vetrie?” I demanded, certain my own eyes were near to bulging. I did not trust this woman and became less inclined to do so the more she seemed to read my thoughts.

“Ah yes. Sorry about that. Sister did warn me about leaving your thoughts alone.” Zipporah attempted to look contrite, but I was not convinced.

“'Tis only that I knew you long ago, when you were a babe. And we’ve waited so long to see you all grown up, Adrielle.”

“We?”

“Ack!” She rolled her eyes and head in one dizzying motion. “Now I’ve gone and done it and said more than I ought.”

“Who is
we
?” Instead of backing away, I took a step closer.

She ignored my question. “In or out, young lady? Either way, I’ve got to be off.” She bounced up and down on her toes, as if all this standing around was very difficult.

I stared hard at her, then at the carriage, its cushioned seats beckoning. Did I
want
to go to Tallinyne? The stir of excitement, hope, and possibility returned. As did my memory of Mother’s lessons on manners.
Had she known? Was it Mother who arranged this before—
I longed to ask but somehow knew Zipporah would decline to answer.

“You don’t need to trust
me
— just yourself,” she said. I met her eye. “What is it you want, Adrielle?”

I want a new life. I want to do good somewhere, to somehow make up for my awful wrongs.

I took another step toward the carriage, telling myself this was the right thing and not another of my foolish, rash decisions. Taking Zipporah’s hand, I climbed inside. The door shut behind me before I’d even taken my seat, and the carriage gave a sudden lurch.

The feeling in my heart matched.
Please let this be right
.

I stuck my head out the window, watching as everything I’d ever known disappeared.

I knew nothing of the center of the kingdom where my eldest sister lived, the place we journeyed toward at reckless speed. I was awed that the horses could pull us so fast and smoothly and realized Zipporah must be very skilled and strong to drive so well. I felt more than a little curious about her and almost wished I’d thought to ask if I might join her up top.

Not that the inside of the carriage was lacking. The cushioned seats were the softest, crushed velvet— my hands had yet to tire of touching them, swirling patterns into the impressionable cloth— and a basket of pastries and drink lay waiting. A blanket and feather pillow sat on the seat beside me, and I guessed they meant we’d be traveling through the night without stopping.

I didn’t even know how far away Tallinyne was.

Sudden anxiety seized me. My fingers dug into the plush velvet, and I fought to keep my breathing calm. What if I couldn’t find my sister? What if this carriage wasn’t really going to the capital? What if the wine in the bottles was poisoned and would stop the beating of my heart with my first swallow?

Alone in the carriage that was nearly flying, my imagination ran as wildly as the horses, but after several fearful hours, I found I was too tired to care. I had no idea how far we’d traveled or what direction we were going. The sun appeared to be setting on both sides. I’d never be able to find my way home.

I told myself that didn’t matter. I’d escaped Vetrie’s sharp tongue, my thoughtless siblings, the gossiping villagers, and the charred earth where our home had been— the daily reminder of my carelessness and what it had cost.

The sun sank low on an endless horizon, and the carriage traveled ever faster. My eyelids grew heavy until I gave in to sleep, my last thought that surely the place I was going would be better than the one I’d just left.

When I next awoke the sun rose behind us, and we were traveling west. I was not alone in the carriage. I found this more than a little alarming and wondered if the sip of wine I’d had sometime in the night contained valerian and had caused an unnaturally deep sleep. I could think of no other explanation for having missed the carriage stopping and another passenger coming aboard. Concerned, I eyed the roundish, rosy-cheeked, merry-looking woman sitting across from me, fingers dashing with the knitting needles in her hands. She reminded me a bit of the driver, though with a much more feminine manner.

I watched, at first wary, then fascinated, as the garment she wove doubled in size before my eyes.

“Do you favor it?” she asked after I’d stared for several minutes.

“Very much,” I said, meaning the hypnotizing rhythm of her fingers and not necessarily the pale pink sweater forming on her lap. “It’s astounding. I’ve never seen anyone knit so fast.”

She chuckled. “If you’re impressed by this…” She stopped, letting the unfinished thought hang in the air. “Been around a lot of knitters, have you?”

I shook my head. “Just my mother and sisters.”

“You must knit too, then.” She took her eyes off the sweater long enough to look me up and down.

“I’m afraid I don’t do well with any sort of needles, actually.” I glanced at my poorly patched dress, a clear example of my lacking skills.

“Tell me, what you are good at then? Music?” she asked hopefully.

Again I shook my head. “I’ve never been around a pianoforte, and my sisters agree my voice is sour enough to make the most faithful sailor jump overboard 'midst an ocean gale.”

My companion gave an indelicate snort. “I
suppose
you’re good at growing things.” She stared pointedly at my head so that I wondered if there was a twig or leaves caught in my hair from yesterday’s foray into the wood. Feeling self-conscious I reached up, touched my hair and discovered a circlet of flowers resting there.

“A gift from my sister,” my companion said. “
Somehow
she knew you loved flowers.”

“Oh yes.” I brightened.
A gift? For me?
“And all plants, trees, herbs. I’m hoping to work for an apothecary in Tallinyne.”

“
Work
?” she said, aghast. “Heavens no. And don’t you fret about those missing talents.” She reached forward, patting my knee. Her cheeks were fairly glowing, and her sparkling eyes hypnotic. “You’ll have them soon enough.”

“I will?” I said, feeling slightly dazed and wondering what she was talking about.

Her needles began to fly again, and, still feeling lightheaded, I took a pastry from the basket, hoping a bit of food would do me good.

“They’re raspberry— your favorite,” she said without looking up.

I froze, my lips half-closed over the delicacy. My mouth watered as I inhaled the sweet scent. But I dared not take a bite. How did
she
know my favorite? How had her sister— whoever she was— known I loved flowers? My previous fears returned, and I studied the woman closer, wary that she wasn’t as harmless as she appeared.

I remembered a story Papa told me when I was little— about a princess and a poisoned apple. My tongue flicked the delicate bun. This was no apple, and I was the complete opposite of a princess. But still…

“Who are you?” I asked, as blunt as my fellow passenger had been with her questions.

“Your escort,” she said, a dimple forming in the cleft of her chin. It reminded me of Papa. She grabbed a pastry herself and took a large bite from it. Apparently my fear of poisoning was unfounded.

“My name is Merry Anne,” she added a moment later. The corners of her mouth turned up. “Merry with an E.”

I decided anyone as jolly as she likely could do no harm. I ate the pastry with much enthusiasm, then had another and felt better than I had in forever.

Merry Anne proved not only jolly, but clever, too. She continued asking me questions as the hours rolled by, and I responded all the while wondering if she already knew the answers. When I told her I hoped to find Cecilia, Merry Anne leaned forward, giving me another pat on the knee and fixing me with one of her ever-bright smiles.

“Cecilia is not like your other siblings, and life at the castle has not spoiled her.”

“You know her?” I asked, delighted. “She works at the castle?”

“No need to fret—”

At that precise moment, I noticed Merry Anne begin to do just that. She leaned out the window, her neck and torso stretching rather far for as compact as she appeared in her seat. “Oh, dear.”

“What?” I said, attempting to see for myself what had her troubled.

“No. You mustn’t.” She pulled me back against the seat. “We’re about to be beset by robbers.”

“Are you certain?” I scooted over, glancing out the opposite window and seeing nothing but lonely road.

Merry Anne snapped the shades closed— all four at once somehow— blocking my view.

“Let me do the talking,” she instructed. “When the thieves see how poorly you’re dressed, they should leave you alone.”

Several tense minutes passed. Merry Anne’s nimble fingers flew ever faster with the needles until the skeins of yarn were all but gone. No thieves appeared, and I’d nearly made up my mind she was a few bales shy a full hayloft, when both shouting and hoofbeats sounded outside. We slowed to a stop.

“Not a word,” Merry Anne reiterated, winking at me.

The carriage door flung open, and a wild-haired, wild-eyed man clambered aboard. He plopped onto the seat beside me, and I shrank to the far corner— not because I was afraid, but because his stench was overpowering. Unable to stop myself, I wrinkled my nose and held my arm up to shield my face. Having been raised on a farm, I’d believed myself immune to foul smells. I was wrong. His odor rivaled a barnful of manure on the hottest summer day.

Thumps sounded above us, and the carriage rocked, throwing me toward him.

I pressed my feet to the floor and scooted away again, as shouts came from outside.