Her cheeks flush. “You could stay,” she whispers.
My heart falls at that. We both know what it would mean for me to stay. Every child over the age of five who enters the convent school makes a binding bargain that they will remain only until their twentieth birthday unless they take vows as a sister. Sisters dedicate their lives to the convent, tending the Starcane fields, praying for meteor showers, charting the stars to predict the ideal planting and harvesting days, paying reverence to the All of All, and teaching at the school. With little Tilly in my lap and a room full of laughter, I can’t help wondering…would it really be so bad to stay?
The answer comes easily. I may love to admire a starlit sky and enjoy the taste of Starcane sugar as much as anyone else, but I don’t feel the reverence the sisters do. I haven’t an ounce of religious fervor in my body. Not like Dorothy. She’s always been set on taking vows. And while my heart aches at the prospect of leaving, I can’t forget the itch that has been my constant companion. A need to see the world outside these walls. The awe I felt during my short stay in the city of Lumenas. My craving for ballrooms, theaters, and fine clothing. As a governess, I’ll at least get to enjoy these things secondhand. I’ll get to teach my charges to dance, maybe even attend the ballet with them as their chaperone. And I do love children. They clearly love me back, as noted by the little bunny fae in my lap. So long as my pupils aren’t terrible little shits like Lina was to her governess, I’ll be happy wherever I’m sent. That simple freedom will be enough.
Within these walls, I’m content.
But contentment isn’t the same as freedom.
I shake the thoughts from my head and give Dorothy an apologetic look. “I can’t stay.”
“No, she can’t,” Lina says, bumping her shoulder into mine, “because when I’m married with children, I’ll be hiring Briony as my household’s governess.”
I snort a laugh. “We’ll see about that. Agatha already has my first job lined up for me. At least she’s supposed to. She still hasn’t told me where I’m…”
Frowning, I trail off. Only now do I note the weight of our third teacher’s absence. Agatha is the fondest of parties and oversees the planning and execution of each one. So why isn’t she here?
I scan the room until my eyes lock on Sister Marsh. I raise my voice over the chatter so she can hear me. “Where’s Sister Agatha?”
Marsh thins her lips while Spruce cuts a wide-eyed glance at the other teacher. Neither answers my question.
Dread fills my chest. They’re hiding something, but I can’t fathom what or why. I drop my fork to my plate. “Sister Marsh…is something wrong?”
Spruce shifts into her pixie form and flutters over to Marsh. Though she keeps her voice low, I manage to hear her frantic whisper. “Can’t we tell her?”
Marsh shakes her head. “You know we’re bound by our bargain. Try to speak the words; they won’t come. We’ve done what we could. She’s out of our hands as of tomorrow.”
“But they might still…they were due to arrive last week.”
“If they come for her, we’ll tell them where to find her. That’s all we can do.”
My dread grows deeper, though winding through it is a thread of hope. One I haven’t felt in years. They…they can’t be talking about what I think they are, can they? With trembling limbs, I gently slide Tilly off my lap and rise from the bench. “What’s going on?”
By now, the other students have noticed the sudden tension in the room. Silence falls, leaving only the occasional scraping of a fork on a plate and the buzz of Spruce’s wings.
I’m about to repeat my question when the sound of a second pair of wings reaches my ears. A tiny pink figure zips around my head before the pixie shifts into seelie form. In a flash, the winged creature is replaced with a short, rotund female with pink candy-floss hair. It’s Sister Agatha. She’s dressed in the same gray gown as my other two teachers, but her wimple is so crooked it nearly hangs off her head. Her wide cheeks grow rounder with her growing smile. She gathers my hands in hers and gives them a squeeze. “He’s here, Miss Rose,” she says, somewhat out of breath. Or maybe it’s excitement that strains her voice. “You aren’t going to be a governess. You’re going home.”
“Home,” I echo, the word ringing strangely against my racing heart.
Gasps and excited whispers spring up around me while Marsh releases a long, weighted sigh. “I suppose we can talk about it after all,” she says.
Spruce lets out a tiny whoop before shifting back into her seelie form and racing to my side. “Oh, thank the All of All. I didn’t think I could let you go without telling you the truth.”
I blink a few times. This isn’t a dream, is it? “What truth? I…I still don’t understand.”
“Your parents have sent for you at last,” Agatha says. “They’ve been looking for you for years.”
A wave of dizziness washes over me. After waiting to hear those words for almost two decades, I gave up on them. I came to terms with being an orphan. With being abandoned. With letting go of my dreams, no matter how badly it hurt.
Could this be real? After all this time?
My heart hammers so hard it sends ripples through my chest and down my arms. Logic. I need logic. I need to stay sensible or I’ll lose my damn mind. “You saidhe’shere,” I manage to get out. “Who? My father?”
Agatha’s expression turns apologetic. “No, dearest, your parents couldn’t come. They sent someone else in their stead to take you to them.”
“Who?”
Before she can answer, my gaze falls on the figure I hadn’t noticed until now. He’s no more than a shadow darkening the doorway until he takes a hesitant step across the threshold. My heart leaps into my throat as my eyes lock on Thorne Blackwood’s.
