Chapter 27
Iended up having more fun than I ever expected I would after I’d been bracing myself for absolute misery when setting out.
It was my first time going to town since the attack, and I had dreaded the walk through town more than anything else.
But by tucking myself into the center of our little family cluster and being shielded from curious eyes by Mother and Comfort, I found I could almost disappear.
The town itself helped distract me. I had brief recollections from my childhood of course, and that, coupled with Comfort’s continual stories at home, made it seem more friendly and inviting than I imagined it would. It was a quaint, charming little village, in a storybook sort of way.
A wide square opened before us, bisected by a cheerful stream that burbled as though it had no idea how cruel life could be.
Wildflowers bloomed along the banks in colorful tufts, and little wooden bridges arched across the water at strategic intervals.
Around the perimeter of the square, shops beckoned with their carved signs and wide windows: a bakery puffed out clouds of sweet-scented air, a blacksmith hammered sparks into the sky, a glassblower twirled molten fire, a cobbler hunched over leather, and a hat maker placed ridiculous feathered creations in his window.
And there, exactly where Comfort had said, was the tailor’s shop, with its mannequins decked out in the most hideous ball gowns I’d ever seen.
Fabrics and patterns clashed with each other on every dress.
Comfort caught my eye, and in unison we pressed hands over our mouths to smother our laughter.
Meanwhile, Mother and Algernon looked like a picture-perfect couple.
They strolled through the square hand in hand, smiling at each other in that effortless way couples do when they’ve been together forever.
If I hadn’t known her past, I would have sworn they’d been married for years.
While it still ached at times to see her so happy with Algernon, having her former personality returned was almost worth the price.
Sometimes Mother would tug at my arm, eyes alight, saying, “Truly, you simply must try this bakery’s cakes.
They are magnificent.” Other times Algernon would fish coins from his pocket and have each of us toss a farthing into the wishing well.
They weren’t just a widow and soon-to-be stepfather—they were two happy people in love.
Comfort bounced along, waving cheerfully at everyone who passed, her smile so wide it almost reflected the sun’s rays. The townsfolk all knew her name, and every shout of “Good morning, Comfort!” made her glow even brighter.
The only cloud in our little parade was Cynthia.
She lingered at the rear of the group, as if she was trying to match her physical distance from us to the emotional distance she was feeling.
Her chin was tilted and her nose stuck in the air enough to convey her indifference to us, though the way she kept her arms folded across her chest betrayed something else.
Was she just as uncomfortable and embarrassed as I was? Either way, her distance gnawed at me.
The situation somewhat reminded me of the similar tension I’d experienced with Curtis right after he’d attempted to kiss me for the first time.
Both circumstances ended up with an awkward, heavy silence afterward that felt too embarrassing to address.
But perhaps if we faced it and had an upfront, open conversation, it would clear the air and give us a fresh start.
It had worked before; maybe it would work again.
I waited until Comfort had bounded ahead to chatter at Mother and Algernon, and I hung back so I could fall into step beside Cynthia.
She watched me out of the corner of her eye and my heart thudded.
The air between us felt sharp enough to cut.
Still, I had to try. I owed it to Mother, and I did genuinely regret how I’d behaved the day before.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I blurted.
Cynthia’s eyes snapped to mine—blue, cool, but also slightly hopeful.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” I rushed on. “If I’d seen myself for the first time without warning and with that awful makeup job I had, I’d have been shocked too. It was very kind of you to come and apologize, and I really am sorry for how I reacted.”
Cynthia’s shoulders dropped slightly and she bit her lower lip, looking downward toward the ground.
I rambled on to fill the silence, words tumbling over each other. “Comfort’s said wonderful things about you. She says you’re a marvelous cook—even better than some of the chefs at the castle.”
Cynthia’s gaze stayed on the cobblestones, her expression unreadable, as our feet crunched through the pebbles littering the path.
With Curtis, I had only needed one apology to crack the ice and mend our friendship.
With Cynthia… the ice was thick, stubborn, and I wasn’t sure it wanted to melt.
I tried to think of another topic of conversation, but nothing came to mind.
Finally, she spoke. “Funny your sister never mentioned anything about how you look.”
I stiffened. “I asked her about that,” I said carefully, biting back the urge to snap. “She told me she didn’t think it was her story to tell.”
“You look a lot nicer now,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said those things. I do wish I’d known earlier, but I can understand why you wouldn’t want that story circulated. I wouldn’t want anyone to see me if I looked like that.”
That was her apology? I couldn’t tell if she was trying to be sincere but simply lacked tact, or if she had intended to enrage me.
I swallowed down my annoyance. Mother’s happiness was at stake here, as well as Algernon’s faith in Cynthia, based off what I heard last night.
If there was even the faintest chance to make this work, I had to try.
I stopped, forcing her to stop too. “What if we just… start over?”
Her eyes flicked to the left side of my face, then quickly away to fix her gaze on my shoulder instead. I wanted so badly to cover myself, to shield everyone from the sight, but instead, I stuck out my hand.
“Good morning. My name is Truly, and I’m Lenora’s younger daughter. You must be Cynthia. Comfort has told me so much about you.”
Cynthia almost smiled. Almost. She gave my hand a quick shake, then brushed her palm down the side of her dress as if to wipe it clean. I pretended not to notice.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said.
“Well, tell me, Cynthia, what hobbies do you enjoy?”
“I like cooking with my father. We make all our meals together; it’s like our thing. And each summer, we vacation in a new country and make traditional dishes we learn from the locals.”
“Have you had the cheese bread in Avivia? I always enjoyed that when I traveled with my father.” There, something we could bond over.
“That is good,” she agreed.
“So what other dishes are your favorites?”
As she listed them, I studied her out of the corner of my eye.
She had long, wavy blonde hair, enormous blue eyes, and a very pretty face.
She was the sort of girl that turned boys’ heads even when she didn’t mean to.
With my short, straight brown hair and hazel eyes, I wasn’t anything special.
It was no wonder she would have been shocked to come face to face with me, dripping in poorly applied makeup when she was used to looking at herself in the mirror.
An expectant silence fell, and I realized she must have asked me a question.
I startled. “I’m sorry—what?”
“Is the cheese bread your favorite food or is it something else?”
I smiled, this one real. “Honey cakes. My best friend and I used to sneak into the kitchens for them.” Now, every time I ate them, I was reminded of simpler, happier times.
We rounded a bend to find Comfort waiting for us. She gave me a playful elbow as she fell into step and ignored Cynthia completely. “I wondered where you got to. Hey, see that big tree up ahead?”
I looked. An immense oak towered over the path, its trunk gnarled and hollowed by time. Its massive branches stretched like arms toward the sky, and from the dark center of its trunk yawned a gaping hole.
“The townsfolk say it’s enchanted,” Comfort whispered theatrically. “They say that fairies live inside and sometimes grant wishes if you reach into the hollow. They call it the Fairy Godmother Tree.”
I laughed. “No one really believes that, do they?”
“Anything can happen,” Cynthia said in a huff, the slim amount of friendliness I’d coaxed out of her vanishing in an instant.
I didn’t answer. I was still trying to play peacemaker, after all. But inwardly, I thought, Fairies handing out wishes from a rotting old tree? Absolute lunacy.
“So what’s the story behind it?” I asked Comfort.
She glanced at Cynthia, who was still pacing beside us, then cleared her throat and launched into the tale.