Illusions of Fate
Page 53
I beam, flush with victory, and then suddenly cold with second thoughts. Perhaps this was a battle best left unwon. As I watch Finn preparing the spell, I nearly stop him several times. But no. I will not run and hide any more than I must.
When all is said and done, the process is anticlimactic. He writes the symbols on the mirror, drops the powder onto it, and then sets it by my bed.
Eleanor sits up with a start. “Spirits below, I fell asleep. Magic is so dull. Now, if you two think I will sit in a chair and chaperone, you’re quite wrong. I’ll leave your door open and mine as well, but I am far too tired for gossip, so please do nothing interesting.” She kisses my cheek and then stumbles out of the room, still half asleep.
I sit on the edge of my bed, nervously eyeing the mirror. “Do you think it worked?”
Finn nods, but the smile on his face is betrayed by the line between his eyebrows. He hovers beside me and nods at the bed. “It would help if you went back to sleep.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” I climb back under the covers and lie down, feeling awkward and exposed. Finn sits in the chair next to the bed, watching me.
“I will never get to sleep like this.” I scowl at him, but the truth is I’m terrified. My hand aches with remembered pain, and I don’t think I can face it happening another time. I remember hiding in Eleanor’s armoire with Finn, how much I wanted to lean against him and let him hold me.
He has made a concession tonight. I can do the same.
I scoot over, leaving enough room for a Finn-sized body. I give him a look.
His eyebrows disappear beneath his golden hair. “Beg pardon?”
“I promise not to take advantage of you.” I try for a lighthearted laugh, but it falls flat. I switch to honesty. “I only want you beside me. I need to know—to feel—I’m not alone when I face him.”
He smiles, and I am relieved that it’s gentle and soft, a safe smile. He eases himself onto the bed, lying flat on his back, not touching me. I close the distance and lift his arm over me, resting my head on his shoulder. His hand comes down lightly on the curve of my waist.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I feel safer than I have in weeks.
“Don’t think I provide this service for just anyone,” he whispers back.
It doesn’t take long until I find myself on the black sand beach. I’m aware this time, none of the odd dream-forgetfulness of before, and my gut reaction is panic. But no. I am in control. I change my dress from the awful red one into one of my plain skirts and tops. The skirt has a pocket, and I push my hand into it.
I smile.
Lord Downpike is waiting for me at the table. I take my time and stroll toward him. A flicker of confusion shifts his face into something else, but it settles before I can process what it was.
“Do sit,” he says with his sharp smile.
I return it with one of my own, pull the knife out of my pocket, and slam it onto his hand, pinning it to the table. His wings spasm then disappear, and he looks down at his hand with shock and pain before bowing his head. I expect him to wail with anguish, but he looks up at me with a wry smile. “Very clever.”
“I’m a clever girl.”
“But it’s not enough, is it? It will never be enough. You can be as clever as the sun is bright. You can best all your peers in school. You can try and try and it—you—will never be enough. How does that feel, little rabbit? Knowing you will never truly be in control, never truly have power, simply because of who you are?”
“I think you underestimate me,” I say, but it comes out more timid than I want.
“I think you know I’m right. This isn’t your world, and it never will be.”
I look around at the beach. We’re in my dream. “Actually, right now this is entirely my world.” I pull a large meat cleaver out of my skirts. “You should leave.”
He laughs, hand still pinned to the table and then gives me a look I can only describe as . . . affectionate. “Well done.”
And then he is gone, and the dream is just a dream.
Twenty-nine
Dearest Mama,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am sorry not to have written sooner, but I was not sure what to say, nor did I want to have to tell you unless I was certain that it could not be avoided.
I have left the school. Circumstances rendered me unable to attend classes, and though it breaks my heart to have my months of hard work and studying count for naught, rest assured that I am continuing my studies on my own in a more rigorous structure than my professors instituted.
I know that you were against the idea of me attending school here. I had hoped to prove you wrong by excelling there and
I am sorry, the ink on this page seems to be running. What I mean to say is, I am grateful for all of the love and support you have given me, even when we did not agree. I hope to make you proud. I am staying at a new address, which is enclosed, at the home of a dear friend. Eleanor, who was recently ill, is staying with us as well and we spend our evenings in happy companionship.
The world is a much more complicated place than I used to think. I am trying to find my place in it. I miss you very much and wish you were here to chide me on my clothing choices and help me know what to do.
Your loving daughter,
Jessamin
P.S. I am delighted to tell you that Jacabo and Ma’ati, a lovely girl from the island, were married. They have found employment at the country estate of a wealthy lord and are happily settling in. Please congratulate his mother for me.
When all is said and done, the process is anticlimactic. He writes the symbols on the mirror, drops the powder onto it, and then sets it by my bed.
Eleanor sits up with a start. “Spirits below, I fell asleep. Magic is so dull. Now, if you two think I will sit in a chair and chaperone, you’re quite wrong. I’ll leave your door open and mine as well, but I am far too tired for gossip, so please do nothing interesting.” She kisses my cheek and then stumbles out of the room, still half asleep.
I sit on the edge of my bed, nervously eyeing the mirror. “Do you think it worked?”
Finn nods, but the smile on his face is betrayed by the line between his eyebrows. He hovers beside me and nods at the bed. “It would help if you went back to sleep.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” I climb back under the covers and lie down, feeling awkward and exposed. Finn sits in the chair next to the bed, watching me.
“I will never get to sleep like this.” I scowl at him, but the truth is I’m terrified. My hand aches with remembered pain, and I don’t think I can face it happening another time. I remember hiding in Eleanor’s armoire with Finn, how much I wanted to lean against him and let him hold me.
He has made a concession tonight. I can do the same.
I scoot over, leaving enough room for a Finn-sized body. I give him a look.
His eyebrows disappear beneath his golden hair. “Beg pardon?”
“I promise not to take advantage of you.” I try for a lighthearted laugh, but it falls flat. I switch to honesty. “I only want you beside me. I need to know—to feel—I’m not alone when I face him.”
He smiles, and I am relieved that it’s gentle and soft, a safe smile. He eases himself onto the bed, lying flat on his back, not touching me. I close the distance and lift his arm over me, resting my head on his shoulder. His hand comes down lightly on the curve of my waist.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I feel safer than I have in weeks.
“Don’t think I provide this service for just anyone,” he whispers back.
It doesn’t take long until I find myself on the black sand beach. I’m aware this time, none of the odd dream-forgetfulness of before, and my gut reaction is panic. But no. I am in control. I change my dress from the awful red one into one of my plain skirts and tops. The skirt has a pocket, and I push my hand into it.
I smile.
Lord Downpike is waiting for me at the table. I take my time and stroll toward him. A flicker of confusion shifts his face into something else, but it settles before I can process what it was.
“Do sit,” he says with his sharp smile.
I return it with one of my own, pull the knife out of my pocket, and slam it onto his hand, pinning it to the table. His wings spasm then disappear, and he looks down at his hand with shock and pain before bowing his head. I expect him to wail with anguish, but he looks up at me with a wry smile. “Very clever.”
“I’m a clever girl.”
“But it’s not enough, is it? It will never be enough. You can be as clever as the sun is bright. You can best all your peers in school. You can try and try and it—you—will never be enough. How does that feel, little rabbit? Knowing you will never truly be in control, never truly have power, simply because of who you are?”
“I think you underestimate me,” I say, but it comes out more timid than I want.
“I think you know I’m right. This isn’t your world, and it never will be.”
I look around at the beach. We’re in my dream. “Actually, right now this is entirely my world.” I pull a large meat cleaver out of my skirts. “You should leave.”
He laughs, hand still pinned to the table and then gives me a look I can only describe as . . . affectionate. “Well done.”
And then he is gone, and the dream is just a dream.
Twenty-nine
Dearest Mama,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am sorry not to have written sooner, but I was not sure what to say, nor did I want to have to tell you unless I was certain that it could not be avoided.
I have left the school. Circumstances rendered me unable to attend classes, and though it breaks my heart to have my months of hard work and studying count for naught, rest assured that I am continuing my studies on my own in a more rigorous structure than my professors instituted.
I know that you were against the idea of me attending school here. I had hoped to prove you wrong by excelling there and
I am sorry, the ink on this page seems to be running. What I mean to say is, I am grateful for all of the love and support you have given me, even when we did not agree. I hope to make you proud. I am staying at a new address, which is enclosed, at the home of a dear friend. Eleanor, who was recently ill, is staying with us as well and we spend our evenings in happy companionship.
The world is a much more complicated place than I used to think. I am trying to find my place in it. I miss you very much and wish you were here to chide me on my clothing choices and help me know what to do.
Your loving daughter,
Jessamin
P.S. I am delighted to tell you that Jacabo and Ma’ati, a lovely girl from the island, were married. They have found employment at the country estate of a wealthy lord and are happily settling in. Please congratulate his mother for me.
