Aislinn smiles. “Auralie has two more boys. They’re back in Valgard with Mother.”
There are twin boys about three years of age, one clinging to the leg of Aislinn’s shorter sister, another energetically running around making horse noises. An older girl of about five years stands calmly, beaming up at Aislinn, and a four-year-old boy runs over to hug Aislinn. She affectionately ruffles his hair.
The sisters are plain like Aislinn, their hair swept back into neat, unstylish buns. They wear the layered, shapeless clothing of the most conservative Gardnerian families, Erthia orbs on chains around their necks.
“Elloren Gardner! Heavens, you do look like your grandmother!” The taller sister, Liesbeth, approaches me and introduces herself. She embraces me warmly as we kiss on both cheeks. “Aislinn’s told us all about you in her letters. We’re so happy she’s found such a good friend.”
The shorter sister, Auralie, smiles awkwardly in my direction, then looks back down at the floor, her baby fussing in her arms.
What a contrast these two sisters are. Liesbeth is well put together, not a hair out of place and comfortable in her surroundings, her baby plump and neatly swaddled.
Auralie, a heavyset girl with hair escaping her bun at odd angles, has a look in her eyes similar to Ariel—not quite there. And her baby looks stressed and too thin.
It’s easy to match the other children with their mothers. I pick out the neatly attired, well-behaved children and mentally match them to Liesbeth. To Auralie, I match the disheveled twin boys with tense faces.
“We know your aunt quite well,” Liesbeth tells me, beaming. “She’s a great ally to our father on the Mage Council—they’re of one mind about practically everything.”
I stiffen at the mention of Aunt Vyvian, wondering when my aunt will finally tire of sending a steady stream of letters and sporadic gifts to get me to wandfast. I fear it’s only a matter of time before she shifts tactics once more.
“Aunt Linnie!” the little girl cuts in, tugging at Aislinn’s skirts. “When are you coming to visit? We got a kitten!”
Aislinn sets her hand on the child’s shoulder and smiles down at her. “That’s wonderful, Erin. I love kittens, you know that.”
“I baked your favorite cookies, Linnie.” Liesbeth pulls back the blue cloth that covers a woven basket she’s carrying. “You’re welcome to have some, too, Elloren.”
Aislinn’s smile instantly becomes as strained as mine as we glance down at the traditional Gardnerian harvest cookies. They’re in the shape of Icaral wings. Before eating them, it’s customary to first break the wings in two, symbolic of the breaking of the wings of the Evil Ones by the Gardnerian First Children. I’ve eaten these cookies hundreds of times and performed the breaking ritual mindlessly. Now all I can think about is Wynter. And Ariel, too—thrown into a cage when she was only a child.
The children grab at the cookies and snap them noisily.
“I can do it louder than you,” little Erin taunts one of the boys good-naturedly. She breaks the wings with a deft snap.
Aislinn flinches at the sound of it. She shoots me a troubled look, and then her eyes go wide. She’s staring at something past me, her face panicked.
Curious, I turn to follow her gaze.
It’s Jarod, leaning against a far wall, watching us.
Aislinn’s sisters immediately notice Aislinn’s rattled expression, stop smiling and follow her gaze, as well.
“Is that...” Liesbeth whispers, horrified, “...the Lupine male?”
Auralie gasps, and both sisters touch their heads, then their hearts, as they murmur the familiar prayer:
Oh, Most Holy Ancient One, purify our minds, purify our hearts, purify Erthia. Protect us from the stain of the Evil Ones.
Liesbeth turns to Aislinn, concerned. “Has he been bothering you, Linnie?”
“No,” Aislinn protests, her brow furrowing tightly. “No, he stays away from me.”
“Is he still in that class you’re taking?” Liesbeth presses worriedly. “I remember how scared you were to have him there.”
“He leaves me alone,” Aislinn insists, her voice strained. “It turns out he hasn’t the slightest interest in me.”
“But he’s quite wild-looking, isn’t he?” Auralie breathes, peering over at Jarod, who hasn’t moved.
“Look at his eyes,” Liesbeth exclaims. “They’re positively inhuman!”
Aislinn glances over at me, horrified, knowing as well as I do that Jarod can hear every word of this conversation. He’s turned away, his face expressionless.
“Take great care, Linnie,” Auralie warns Aislinn, her tone hushed. “Lupine males...they have no respect for women. Father says they’re like animals. All they can think about is dragging women off into the woods and...”
Jarod abruptly walks out.
“Oh, good, he’s leaving,” Auralie says, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. She pats Aislinn on the shoulder comfortingly. “There, Linnie, he’s gone. You can relax now.”
“Thank the Ancient One,” Liesbeth says, echoing the sentiment.
“Mommy, who was the man with the strange eyes?” Aislinn’s niece asks.
“A very bad man,” Liesbeth says, hugging the child soothingly. “But he’s gone now, sweetheart, so you needn’t worry.”
“Is he like my toy, Momma?” one of the boys asks with morbid enthusiasm. He pulls a wooden figurine out of a little sack he’s carrying. It’s a scowling Lupine with glowing eyes painted bright amber, his hands morphed into hairy wolf hands with long claws.
“That’s him, all right,” Auralie agrees, nodding.
Aislinn’s nephew dumps out the rest of his toys onto a nearby table, and all the familiar wooden figures spill out: evil Icarals, flames in their palms; sinister Vu Trin sorceresses; an evil-looking Fae queen; and the valiant Gardnerian soldiers, some on horseback.
“I’m gonna have the soldiers kill him!” the boy announces as he begins to set the Gardnerian soldiers up in a circle around the Lupine.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Liesbeth says, pleased.
The little girl, Erin, looks worriedly toward the door. “Will he come back?” she asks Liesbeth, clinging to her skirts.
“Oh, honey, he won’t bother you.” Her mother reassures her. “Look at all the Gardnerian soldiers here. You’re quite safe. And when Marcus Vogel takes over as High Mage, the brave soldiers like Poppa will get rid of them someday. Then no one will have to worry about them ever again.”
And we can all live happily-ever-after, I think sarcastically. It’s becoming unbearable to remain silent, yet neither one of us can say anything. If we do, Aislinn’s sisters will become suspicious about our intermingling with Lupines, and those suspicions will surely find their way back to Aislinn’s father.
“The Lupine...he hasn’t bothered me,” Aislinn ventures weakly. “He and his sister leave everyone alone. They keep to themselves.”
“Nonetheless,” Liesbeth says as she deftly restrains the toddler who’s running in circles around her legs. “I wish you’d hurry up and fast to Randall. Lupine men see an unfasted woman and think she’s easy prey. Plus, once you’re fasted and married, we can all be together again.”
“We miss you, Linnie,” Auralie laments, a deep sadness in her eyes.
“I miss you, too,” Aislinn admits, her voice tight with longing. Aislinn is looking at her sisters the way you stare at a boat that’s sailing off, leaving you behind.
“Aunt Linnie, you promised in your letter that you’d play with me when I saw you,” Aislinn’s niece entreats, pouting up at her aunt. “I brought my new marbles to show you!”
“Oh, show her, Erin!” Liesbeth enthuses. “They’re from the Valgard glassworks, Tierney’s father’s shop.”
Little Erin opens up a black velvet bag with a red, tasseled pull string, and we all reach in to pull out the large marbles. We hold them each up in turn so we can peer through them at the swirling colors that catch the surrounding light.