CHAPTER SEVEN
Kelara came close to biting my head off that evening.
As soon as I got home, I laid Asha upon the bed she shared with her mother.
Her belly rose and fell within a spell-woven slumber.
I assured Kelara of the prince’s words, of the confidence with which he’d examined Asha and healed her.
I warned her it would take days to recover, and made her promise to alert me if Asha’s condition worsened.
Kelara knew I’d come back from the palace in a heartbeat to assist her.
And her response?
Kelara’s chin trembled the rest of the day. She failed to say a word or even look at me.
But that was to be expected. I had yet to forgive myself, either.
My elder sister curled up beside Asha’s sleeping form, one arm wrapped around her, no trace of a goodbye on her lips. I slowly closed the door, the last of dusk’s light reflecting off a tear trailing down Kelara’s cheek.
I headed back into the living area, where Mama sat reading in the candlelight. She licked her thumb and rubbed it against her index finger before turning a page.
I joined her, letting out a deep breath as I sank onto the worn settee.
“Will she be alright?” she asked without glancing my way.
“Yes.”
Mama placed a hand on my knee. “Asha’s a quick one. It wasn’t your fault.”
I pressed my tongue to my teeth, welcoming the sting. “It was.”
Mama patted my thigh, then turned another page. “It was a good thing Prince Thomas was there.”
I ought to voice my agreement, to proclaim his giftedness, but the words wouldn’t come. The taste of blood forced me to relax my jaw.
At my silence, Mama flipped another page. “I know you said to get rid of Papa’s books, but I found one I thought you’d like to keep.”
I failed to respond, mind reeling.
“I tucked it into your bindle. Just promise me you’ll read it before you toss it.”
“Alright.” My voice was hollow, and so was the air in the house, empty of its usual joy and laughter. It reminded me too much of the day Papa died, sadness seeping into the pores of the home. And now, another family member was bedridden and lost in the grip of greedy slumber.
I tossed and turned all night, replaying my conversation with the prince at the pond. How could arrogance come so easily to him? Why would he assume I was Asha’s mother, when I was so young? Kelara was a good eight years older than I, and even the title of aunt still felt ill-fitting.
And how dare he lecture me on taking care of my family, when he abandoned his own most of the year to pursue magical studies? Everyone knew the mage prince didn’t just view himself above commoners, but above his fellow nobles.
Beneath it all, my fury and fear, lurked the rebuke I could barely face: how could I have put Asha in such danger?
The next morning, I slung my belongings over my shoulder and let myself out into the silence of an early dawn, before even the birds had awoken.
My jaw was set as I pulled the bindle closer, its string biting into my shoulder, my temples throbbing.
I had to move quickly. A list of duties awaited me.
I returned to the palace, to the pond, to an arrogant prince whom I owed more than I cared to ever admit.
The next morning, the palace was shrouded in darkness when I awoke. I stretched, the low, worried whispers of my two roommates drifting toward me.
“What did you say about Ella?” I mumbled, finally catching a piece of their conversation.
Anna appeared by my bedside, her usual sneer traded for a furrowed brow. “She came in with a black eye,” she murmured.
My body stilled.
This was my fault.
I should have pressed Ella harder. Inquired more. Not let her brush me off when the pink handprints, the thumb-shaped bruises, the dark scars appeared on her body in the days after her visits home.
“She won’t talk about it,” Anna added.
I ignored her, scrambling to my feet and throwing a thin robe over my shoulders. I hurried down the hall, quickening when I saw Ella’s blond curls bouncing as she turned onto the palace stairs.
She hesitated at the sight of me.
“Hi Lyra,” she said.
My steps slowed as I studied the green and purple bruise covering the right side of her face. One eye was swollen, and yet she blinked as if nothing were wrong.
Despite my better judgement, a sense of betrayal twinged within me. “You should have awoken me,” I told her, a desperate ache in my voice.
She shrugged. “Why?”
“Ella, you have a black eye.”
“I tripped. Hit a carriage shaft.”
My nostrils flared. I couldn’t let her brush me off—not any longer. “Oh, shut up Ella. Don’t lie to me.”
Her face contorted, and for the first time ever, I saw anger flash across her features. “Don’t tell me what I should or can do, Lyra. I tripped.”
“You’re lying.” I stepped closer, examining her face. I lifted a hand to her cheek, then hesitated, afraid my touch would only make Ella retreat even further inside herself. “You’re lying to me,” I repeated, no longer able to ignore the evidence directly in front of my face.
What kind of a friend was I? What kind of aunt? It seemed I had failed in everything.
Panic seeped into my voice. “You’ve been lying to me about your home life. Why?”
Ella stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I took a shaky breath. “It’s clear one, or both, of your parents have been mistreating you, Ella. Let me help.”
“I don’t work here anymore.”
My brows furrowed. “What?”
“I said I don’t work here anymore.” She cleared her throat. “I quit today. I’m going back to live at home again.”
She turned to move past me, but I grabbed her arm to force her to finish our conversation.
But as my fingers pressed into her arm, she winced, her features contorting in pain.
I let go. “Ella…”
She walked past me, climbing the stairs steadily.
“Ella, please listen to me.” I climbed after her, trying to keep panic from leeching into my words.
She ignored me, turning to climb the next flight. My mind raced for the right words to say. I’d never been in this situation before, never seen scars scattered over someone’s body by those that were meant to love them. It was a terrifying realization I didn’t even know how to broach.
“Ella, stay here. Stay at the palace,” I begged. “I bet Mrs. Calloway will let you live here permanently when she sees you. I’ll advocate for you. We can make a plan.”
At that, Ella whirled around, fury lighting her eyes. I stumbled back.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Lyra,” she snapped.
“You think you know me—you don’t. You think you know what my family is like.
You. Do. Not. I tripped and hit the side of my face.
Everybody trips.” She threw her arms wide.
“And now I would like everyone to leave me alone so I can go tend my sick father and forget I ever lived in this cursed palace.”
She continued ascending the stairs, but I could no longer follow.
I blinked back tears, watching as my best friend in the entire world retreated from my vision, from my life, from my world.
Afraid I might never see her again.