The stream was shallow enough that my stomach did not tumble with fear as I leaned over the water and washed the cape. Once in a while, Headmistress Blackiston would take all the Ashmore students to one of the streams in Hyton to wash our uniforms. She said it kept us “meek and humble.” Annalisa and most of the other girls had whined about laundry being servants’ chores, but I never minded. I could think of no greater satisfaction than fixing something and making it clean andnew again.
Any of the other girls from Ashmore would laugh if they saw me bent over the stream. I was First-selected—by a Baron’s heir, no less—and still breaking a sweat on chores. Regardless of what anyone else in Lycaster would have thought of me dressing and acting like a mere peasant, I enjoyed the peace and solitude that came withthe work.
As I worked the cape into the rocks on the side of the stream, I listened to the bleating of the goats, the lowing of the four cows, the whinny of horses in the stables, and the footsteps and low chatter of the guards on top of the wall. I heard no angry heirs throwing weapons or frustrated Barons yelling—just the peaceful sounds of aworking courtyard.
I finished washing the cape and hung it on a clothesline to dry. Riyan’s shirt was much easier to wash since it was a thinner fabric, so I finished it quickly. The sky was a burning orange as I hung the shirt on the line and a jovial cry rang throughthe courtyard.
“Raise the gate! Miss Bloodstonehas returned!”
I looked south to the gate and a parade of red-chested soldiers walked into the courtyard. I left the clothes on the line and walked over to meet Astrid Bloodstone for thefirst time.
Hilda ran out of the keep toward the party. Nikkolas stood in the middle of the courtyard, keeping guard over a large easel with parchment andpaint ready.
The largest soldier in the party carried the woman who had to be Astrid in his arms. She was a frail woman with wispy hair the color of honey and wore a simple linen dress, very similar to a nightgown. She had no light in her grey eyes, but wore a crown of purple and white flowers on her head as if she were afaerie princess.
“Beautiful girl, how are you feeling?” Hilda asked as she stood in front ofher daughter.
Astrid whimpered and her arm trembled as she pointed tothe easel.
Hilda clapped her hands and smiled. “Sheis ready!”
The soldier carrying Astrid carefully jogged over to the easel and rested Astrid on her knees in a limp sitting position. Without hesitation, Astrid dove her hands in the pots of paint on the ground next to the easel and smeared her fingers all overthe parchment.
I stood next to Hilda and watched in awe as Astrid’s hands flew between the parchment and paint, her grey eyes sparking like thunderclouds as they fixed onthe painting.
“I swear, if she paintsthat thingagain,”Nikkolas grumbled.
Hilda hissed at him to be quiet. Everyone watched in silence as Astrid finishedthe painting.
She had not painted the red monster, but a human man. The man had long blonde hair with a square jaw and dots of blue paint forhis eyes.
Astrid touched the sides of the parchment with her pigment-stained fingers and looked at her mother. Her eyes were pleading and almost shakingwith energy.
“She painted Riyan,” Hilda whispered in amazement. “Shewants Riyan.”
“You do not know what she wants, Hilda,” Nikkolas said sternly yet gently. “You do not even know if she really paintedthe boy.”
Hilda turned to her husband and her voice grew serious and determined. “It is time, Nikkolas. We cannot keep them apart forever. Astridwillsee her son as soonas possible.”
Astrid ran her fingers on the edge of the parchment and looked up at her parents with glassy eyes. One of the maids tried to clean Astrid’s hands off with a rag, but Astrid violently fought off her help asshe whimpered.
I never thought a woman so frail could swing her arms with so much force, but both the maid and Hilda were unbothered byAstrid’s strength.
An excited smile spread across Hilda’s face as she rushed over and knelt next to her daughter. “Do you want tosee him?”
Astrid responded with more pleading eyes, pulling her right hand out of the maid’s grip to point at the man shehad painted.
Hilda cheered and held her daughter in her arms. “You will see him soon, dearest. We just need to let you rest after along day.”
I smiled. Riyan would finally see his mother for the first time intwelve years.
“Madame Bloodstone,” said a gravelly voicebehind me.
I turned at the mention of my new name. A young Bloodstone soldier carrying a courier’s bag stood with two letters inhis hands.
“These just arrived for you, Madame,” the soldier said as he handed me the letters. Both letters were sealed with the crest of the House of Hyton stamped on blue wax. My name on the first letter was scribed in perfect, straight lettering—Annalisa’s writing. The other bore my name in a familiar slanted and swoopingscript. Brietta.
The letters nearly burned the skin on my hands. Hilda was distracted with Astrid, so I bade goodnight to Nikkolas and rushed back up tomy bedroom.
