A Touch Unexpected

1. Fifteen Years Earlier

1

Fifteen Years Earlier

A heavy layer of morning mist blanketed the shabby, weather-worn wooden platform on which Rosalind and her father stood quietly. The somber eeriness that enveloped them had Rosalind shuffling a little closer to the comforting presence beside her.

“Rosalind, my love, let me have a good look at you,” said her father as he knelt down to level his gaze with hers. His movements were slow and strained, and Rosalind didn’t miss the grimace that flashed across his face as he settled into an unsteady crouch.

For a long moment, he said nothing. He simply regarded her with glassy eyes and a smile that was equal parts tender and sorrowful.

Rosalind’s eyes traced the lines of her father’s face, which had grown sharper in recent weeks. There was a grayish hue to his skin that she wanted to believe was attributed to their drab surroundings. But his hollowed cheeks and labored breath indicated otherwise.

“Do you remember what I told you? You’re to get off at a station called Denault Proper, about five hours from here. Denault Proper ,” he repeated slowly for emphasis. “It’s the largest town in the region. That’s where my cousin Maria and her husband, Louis, will meet you. She is the housekeeper of Brighthall Manor, and her husband is the steward there. They’ll be taking you to the manor, and I am told it’s grander than anything we’ve ever seen around here. Much more impressive than the rickety old place we’ve been holed up in. ”

Our home , Rosalind wanted to say. She had lived in the little one-room house her whole life and she liked it there. It was where they spent their days tending to their garden of vegetables and chasing ladybugs. And in the evenings, they sat beside the hearth, reading stories of pirates, princesses, and far-off lands. They had spent more and more time inside as of late, but Rosalind didn’t mind. At home, nobody gave her odd or wary looks. No one whispered about her.

“Just imagine all the advent—” her father began, but he was cut short by a bout of strangled coughs. “Adventures you’re going to go on there,” he rasped out once he’d caught his breath.

“I don’t want to go,” Rosalind said quietly. She stared down at her hands, tugging and twisting at the fabric of her linen dress. “What if I get lost?”

“Maria will take good care of you, my love,” he reassured her. “She’ll make sure you always find your way. She and Louis have a little cottage on the estate grounds. That’s where I imagine you’ll spend most of your days. Not too big to get lost in.” Her father offered her an encouraging smile.

Rosalind’s vision blurred as hot tears surfaced. They streamed down her cheeks as she looked at him. “But I want to stay here with you, Papa,” she whispered.

“I know,” her father said hoarsely, sadness in his eyes. “I know.”

He moved a hand toward her, but it never reached Rosalind’s face. Instead, he drew back as sparks of gold light erupted from where his fingers met invisible resistance just inches away. The sparks soon faded into nothingness between them.

Rosalind wiped at her tears. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Her father shook his head. “You never need to apologize to me, my love. It isn’t your fault,” he said gently. “None of it is your fault.”

Rosalind sniffled. “Then why are you sending me away?”

His shoulders sagged. “You know why,” he answered softly .

And she did. It had never been voiced aloud, but the signs were there. She could see it on his face. Smell it on his clothes. Not unlike the wounded dove she and her father once cared for.

Her father spoke again. “I have done the best I can since your mother left this world, but you deserve more. You need someone who can take your hand when you’re scared, hold you when you’re hurt, embrace you when you’re sad.” He wore a wistful smile as he added, “Someone who will be by your side for years to come.”

As if on cue, a horn sounded in the distance, and the tracks beyond them began to rattle.

“It’s time, my love.” Her father carefully pushed himself off the ground and turned to face the approaching train. “Now, remind me. Which station are you to get off at again?”

“Denault Proper,” Rosalind replied but her answer was drowned out by the train’s horn as it announced its arrival.

Her father put a hand to his ear and hollered, “What’s that?”

“Denault Proper!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. She knew he’d heard her by the approving grin he wore.

The wooden platform shuddered beneath their feet as the train slowed to a halt in front of them. The pair stood silently next to one another until an attendant slid open a door and stuck her head out. “Headed for the inner cities?”

“Ah, perfect. A woman,” her father exclaimed, to which the attendant gave him an odd look.

Rosalind looked up at her father one last time. He offered her a reassuring nod and guided her to the steps of the train door. “Up you go, little one.”

Hesitantly, Rosalind reached out to meet the attendant's outstretched hand and was promptly pulled up onto the train. Once on, the attendant patted gently at her shoulder.

“It’s alright, my dear. You’ll see him again soon. Now, feel free to take any available seat. Perhaps one by the window? ”

Though the attendant meant well, her words brought fresh tears. Rosalind jumped as the train horn sounded and rushed to the nearest window seat. Her breath fogged up the windowpane as she held her face close to it, her eyes glued to her father’s.

Soon, the train began to move. Rosalind watched her father keep pace alongside the train as it slowly picked up speed. He mouthed the same words over and over again.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

As the train pulled farther and farther away from the station, she could only sit and watch as his figure faded into the mist.

Rosalind followed her father’s instructions and departed the train at Denault Proper. Not knowing what to do next, she weaved her way through the stream of bodies that strolled along the platform, careful not to run into anyone. She then tucked herself into a corner and waited. It wasn’t long before a stout woman with kind eyes approached her, accompanied by a wiry man with prominent sideburns.

“You must be Rosalind,” said the woman with a soft smile. “My name is Maria, and this is my husband, Louis. We are here to take you to Brighthall.” She held out her hand.

Rosalind didn’t move. Instead, her gaze drifted from the hand in front of her to the train she had arrived on. If she got back on it, would it take her back to her father? A pang of longing burned in her chest. Then she recalled his words. She’ll take good care of you. And she knew this was what he wanted for her.

With slight trepidation, Rosalind reached out and took hold of the woman’s hand.

“Stay close to me,” Maria said, drawing Rosalind into her. “I’ll make sure no one gets near you, my dear. ”

The three of them exited the station and stopped in front of a large black carriage. Emblazoned on the side was a circular emblem the color of deep violet. The letter D was etched in gold, enveloped by sprigs of wheat. It was like something out of a fairytale, or so Rosalind thought.

“The lady of the manor let us borrow it. Impressive, isn’t it?”

Rosalind looked up at Louis, the man who had spoken. He was smiling at her. So overwhelmed by everything she’d seen and heard since departing the train, she could only nod in response.

Louis opened the carriage door and Maria helped Rosalind inside. She took the seat across from her as Louis shut the door behind them and took his place at the front. Rosalind felt the carriage shift under her as it began to move.

“It’s about an hour’s ride to the manor,” Maria remarked. “Are you hungry at all? I packed a few sweets with me.” She rummaged through her bag.

Rosalind had been too nervous to order anything on the five-hour train ride, but now the thought of food had her stomach grumbling. She watched as Maria untied the cloth pouch in her lap, revealing three scones.

“Do you like blueberries?” Maria asked, offering one to Rosalind.

Rosalind nodded as she reached for the scone. She brought it to her nose; it was the loveliest scent she had ever smelled in her life. She took a bite, and then another. And then another.

“There’s two more waiting for you,” Maria said with a chuckle. “Blueberry scones are Jonathan’s favorite. You’ll meet him later today, I suspect.”

Rosalind watched in awe as they rode alongside luscious green rolling hills, spanning as far as the eye could see. Eventually, the landscape beyond the window changed from spacious meadows to tall cypress trees, all tidy and in a line. Soon after passing a large stone fountain, the carriage came to a halt and Maria helped Rosalind out.

Brighthall Manor was indeed grand—grander than anything Rosalind could have imagined. Stone steps led up to two massive wooden doors, which stood ajar. Tall windows adorned the front of the building and Rosalind had to turn her head far to the left and then to the right to see where the wall started and ended.

“I’ll take the carriage to the stables while you head in to see her ladyship,” Louis said to Maria.

Rosalind scrambled for Maria’s hand, not wanting to be left alone. Maria squeezed it reassuringly as they started toward the double doors. Once inside, Rosalind was again met with a sight unlike anything she had seen before. A vaulted ceiling loomed above her while black and white marble squares lay at her feet. In front of her stood an ebony staircase, leading up to a balcony, which overlooked the sprawling entryway. Rosalind could just make out the row of doors that sat far back from the balcony’s edge.

Maria guided Rosalind past the staircase to a short hallway under the balcony. Dark mahogany lined the bottom half of the walls, while paintings of landscapes, mountaintops, and ships at sea hung on burgundy damask wallpaper. They stopped in front of a door, the same mahogany as the walls. Maria knocked, and a muffled voice sounded from the other side. She opened it and led Rosalind inside.

Rosalind’s gaze was immediately drawn to the vast wall of books that lined the left side of the room. She hadn’t thought it possible for anyone to own so many. How different it was to the small stack of books her father would choose from in the evenings. She bit at her lip to keep it from quivering, desperate not to cry.

“My lady, I would like to introduce you to Miss Rosalind Carver. This is the young girl I told you about.” She patted Rosalind’s back, encouraging her to step forward .

Rosalind gazed up at the older woman who approached her. She was tall and narrow-framed, and she seemed to glide across the floor, the hem of her pleated, cream-colored dress skimming along the carpet. A black ribbon adorned the dress’s high collar, emphasizing her long neck. The coal black and silver strands of her hair were swept into a tidy updo, revealing a sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones. She looked exceedingly stern, Rosalind decided. But once the woman knelt in front of her, it was impossible to miss the softness in her eyes and the slight quirk of her lips.

“My name is Lady Tildawan Rashford and this is my home. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The woman dipped her head slightly.

Rosalind’s eyes widened at the gesture. She wasn’t a lady; she didn’t know how to respond. No one had ever greeted her that way before. Unsure of what to do, she simply mimicked the gesture.

The woman, Lady Rashford, chuckled. “Very good, thank you. I saw you eyeing the bookshelf earlier. Do you like books?”

Rosalind nodded.

“Not chatty, this one,” said Maria from behind her. “Been mum since she arrived.”

“Hmm.” A moment later, Lady Rashford inquired, “How would you like to meet my grandchildren? You’ve been around adults all day. I suspect it’d be rather nice to be around those your own age for a change.”

Rosalind chewed her lip. On rare occasions, she played with children from the village nearby, but the fun was often short-lived. Once they learned about her affliction , they tended to steer clear of her. The fact that it had no effect on girls meant nothing. She was considered by many to be a bad omen. A relic of the Old Laws that no one truly understood. If it could happen to her, what’s to say it couldn’t happen to them? To associate with her was to tempt fate, or so they believed. It seemed unlikely her grandchildren would be any different.

“It’ll be alright, my dear,” Maria said, reassuringly. “I promise.”

“They’re in the drawing room, I believe,” said Lady Rashford as she led Maria and Rosalind out of the study. They made their way past the grand staircase to a large room filled with warm afternoon light.

Rosalind peered around. A pianoforte sat in one corner of the room, a small desk in another. In the center was a seating area with a sizeable striped settee and two paisley armchairs. The wall behind them housed a large hearth with a carved stone mantelpiece. A boy and a girl sat at its base with cards, colored pencils, and papers strewn about them.

“Children,” Lady Rashford announced, “there is someone I would like you both to meet. This here is Miss Rosalind Carver. She has traveled over five hours to join us today. Impressive, yes? Now, how about you two introduce yourselves.”

The young girl with plaited hair, dark as obsidian, shot to her feet.

“My name is Valentina,” she said with a shallow bow of her head, “but most call me Val. Well actually, only those I like can call me that. I am seven years and nine months old. I know, you probably thought I was older because I’m quite tall for my age. But truly, my birthday is in three months—ninety-two days to be exact.” She beamed. “How old are you?”

“Six,” Rosalind said quietly. “And a half,” she added quickly.

“We’re only a year apart, you and I. Well, more like fifteen months. If you have any questions about turning seven, you can ask me.” She proceeded to jab a finger into the arm of the boy next to her. “Oh, and this is my brother, Jon—”

“Val,” the boy groaned as he batted her hand away. “I can do my own introductions, thank you very much.” He cleared his throat and bowed his head. “My name is Jonathan and I’m ten years old. In case you’re wondering, I’m the average height for my age. Even so, Grandmum says the men in my family are late bloomers so I will be as well.”

Rosalind’s eyes darted between the siblings. They were nearly the same height, with Jonathan winning out by mere inches. Had she not known their ages, she might have thought they were twins. Like Valentina, Jonathan had dark hair. And they had the same eyes. They reminded her of the sea—not for their color, but for their profound depth, akin to staring into deep waters on a starless night.

Valentina snorted. “She just says that to make you feel better.”

Jonathan shot her a narrow look and opened his mouth to speak. He closed it and turned back to Rosalind. “Ignoring her is the best way to annoy her. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.

Rosalind felt her stomach drop as she stared helplessly at the hand outstretched in front of her. She looked over at Maria, terrified and uncertain of what to do next.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, love,” Maria called out to Jonathan. “She won’t be able to shake your hand, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?” Valentina asked. “Is she missing a hand?” She peered over to see Rosalind wringing her hands. “Oh, no, she has both,” she murmured, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“Well…” It was Lady Rashford who spoke this time. “I guess one could say Rosalind here is special. She has”—she paused briefly—“a condition, if you will. One that makes it so men can’t touch her.”

“But Jonathan isn’t a man. Quite far from it,” Valentina said with a smirk.

“Valentina,” Lady Rashford warned before continuing. “Miss Rosalind is from a small village in the borderlands of Denault.” She turned to Jonathan. “Remember your studies. What can you tell me about that area? ”

Jonathan furrowed his brow in consideration. His eyes lit up when the answer came to him. “The borderlands are located in the westernmost part of our region. It extends into Meridian, the region next to us. There aren’t any big cities like Denault Proper, but plenty of villages. And just beyond the borderlands is a large forest, which divides Sauvign from Erdesay.”

“Very good,” said Lady Rashford. “Now, what is the most significant difference between our country and Erdesay?”

Jonathan squinted in thought, absentmindedly rubbing at his chin. “Erdesay,” he began slowly, “abides by the Old Laws whereas we abide by the New Laws. Magic is forbidden under the New Laws so we can’t use magic, but Erdesians can.”

“That is very nearly correct, my dear.”

Valentina snickered. “She means you got it wrong.”

Lady Rashford leveled a reproving eye on her granddaughter. “Tell me, Valentina, since you were so quick to mock your brother, what was inaccurate about what he said?”

Valentina fell silent. Averting her gaze, she murmured, “I don’t know.”

Lady Rashford sighed. “Magic itself is not forbidden under the New Laws. If that were the case, we wouldn’t be allowed to possess magical items as we do. Take your pencil, for example, Valentina. It will never break nor will it expire because it has been imbued with magic for precisely that purpose.”

“It is the practice of wielding magic that is against the law,” she explained. “Under no circumstances may someone with the ability to manipulate magic to their will be permitted to do so.”

Lady Rashford turned to Jonathan. “Do you understand the distinction?”

He nodded.

Rosalind watched the entire exchange with a mix of terror and awe. She was amazed at how knowledgeable Jonathan was and how easily he seemed to comprehend what Lady Rashford had said. At the same time, she was terrified to think she might be expected to know all of this as well.

“Don’t worry if you didn’t catch all that,” Valentina whispered as she shuffled to where Rosalind stood.

“Jonathan needs to know these things because he's going to be Chancellor of Denault one day, like our father was. He takes special lessons with Grandmum while I sew and paint and do whatever it is polite ladies are supposed to do.” She rolled her eyes at the last part.

“Valentina, do you have something you would like to add?” Lady Rashford asked with a critical brow.

The young girl in question straightened and shook her head.

“Pay attention, please. There’s a reason why I want both you and Jonathan to know the difference. While wielding magic is illegal, simply possessing something of magic is not unlawful. Most often, such magic will come in the form of an imbued tincture or artifact, but occasionally it can manifest in other ways.”

Lady Rashford moved to stand behind Rosalind and gently rested her hands atop her shoulders. “In Rosalind’s case, the magic she possesses comes in the form of an enchantment, one she has no control over.”

“An enchantment? You mean like something out of a fairytale?” Valentina’s eyes widened and more questions spilled out in quick succession. “Can you fly? Do you have a tail? Can you turn into a dragon?”

Rosalind chewed the inside of her lip. “No, nothing like that,” she said quietly.

Not knowing how best to explain it, she decided it would be easiest to recite the proverb aloud.

“A young girl’s life

Taken too soon by man’s foolish strife.

Wielded in heartbreak ,

An enchantment a grieving mother did make.

So to all men, Beware

All around, there is fervid magic in her air.

Kept safe from all of he,

Until two and twenty, a border born shall be.”

Rosalind stared down at the ground, hands wringing together as she waited for someone to say something. Anything. Now that they had heard it, would they think her a bad omen? Most others did. What if they didn’t want to be around her? Or worse, what if Maria changed her mind and no longer wanted to care for her? She felt tears prick the corner of her eyes.

“So what would happen if I tried to shake your hand? Would I die?” Jonathan inquired cautiously.

Rosalind shook her head wildly back and forth. “No!” she said hurriedly. “No, but it might…” She hesitated. “It might hurt a little. My father says it feels like putting your hand too close to the flame.”

Jonathan seemed to consider her answer before asking, “Does it hurt you?”

The question took Rosalind by surprise. No one besides her father had ever asked her that.

“N-no,” she stammered, “I don’t feel anything at all.”

Without warning, Jonathan stepped toward Rosalind and reached out a hand. Moments later, she heard him yelp as sparks of golden light crackled in the air where his hand had ventured.

“Jonathan,” Lady Rashford admonished.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I just wanted to see for myself.”

“And?” Valentina asked eagerly.

Jonathan shrugged. “It happened so quickly, but…” He paused as if to consider. “I touched something . It was like a wall I couldn’t see. And for a second, it felt cold like ice, and then—well, then it burned. Kind of like when you accidentally pick up a hot poker. ”

“That’s unfortunate for you,” said Valentina unsympathetically as she took Rosalind’s hand in hers. “Doesn’t bother me in the slightest.” She grinned triumphantly.

Rosalind stared at Valentina incredulously. Even after everything she had learned, she still wanted to associate with her?

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure which is worse. Her enchantment”—he nodded his head at Rosalind—“or having you as a sister.”

Rosalind couldn’t believe her ears. Instead of taunting her, they were taunting one another. She peered around and found Lady Rashford was watching her grandchildren with a contemplative expression.

“Maria, may I have a word?” Lady Rashford ushered the housekeeper to the corner of the room, and the two spoke in hushed conversation.

Rosalind observed the women, attempting to decipher what they were talking about based on their expressions. Lady Rashford maintained a calm demeanor as she spoke. Maria's expression, however, shifted from what looked like worry to disbelief to elation. Rosalind watched Maria wipe a tear from her eye.

“Are you quite certain, my lady?”

It was the only snippet of conversation Rosalind could make out. Her palms began to sweat. They were talking about her; she just knew it. Were they going to send her away? To where? There was nowhere else, no one else. She thought of her father and her heart ached.

The women rejoined the children and Lady Rashford cleared her throat, silencing the Rashford siblings.

“Jonathan, Valentina, starting today, Miss Rosalind will be staying with us. She is to settle into the room neighboring yours, Valentina. ”

Rosalind couldn’t have heard her correctly. Wasn’t she supposed to stay in the cottage with Maria and Louis? She glanced over at the housekeeper, who nodded and offered her a reassuring smile.

Valentina clapped her hands together. “How wonderful! But what of your mother and father? Will they be joining us as well?”

“No, my dears,” Maria chimed in. “It’ll just be Miss Rosalind.” The softness in her voice was comforting even as Rosalind’s heart tightened in her chest. She thought of her father’s face and couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes.

“It’s alright,” said Valentina gently as she once again took hold of Rosalind’s hand. “Jonathan and I lost our parents two years ago to the Serral Sea. Sometimes, we like to imagine they’re still out there. Sailing around as pirates, going wherever the wind takes them.”

Rosalind envisioned her father hoisting the sail of a large ship, dressed in all black like one of the pirates from the fairytales. He could breathe in the fresh, salty air and never have to worry about another coughing fit. The thought of him happy and healthy helped ease the longing in her heart.

Valentina leaned in close. “I have a feeling you and I are going to be great friends so you can call me Val.”

For the first time all day, Rosalind smiled. Perhaps this would be the adventure her father had promised.