Beheld (Kendra Chronicles #4)

But how could I? I was only a girl.

As if reading my thoughts, the bookseller said, “If he does not come next week, come to me. I will help you.” At my questioning look, she said, “In case you haven’t realized, I know a bit of witchcraft.”

I nodded. At least she was an ally, though a bizarre one.

She held out the mirror. “And borrow this, to talk to me. If you get lonely or confused, ask to see me. Kendra.”

I took it from her. It was dark, and I needed to go home. Father would be angry at my lateness, angrier still if he knew the truth. If Karl forsook me, I might not have a home to which to return.

I did not see Kendra when I walked into the bookseller’s stall. The male clerk was there, as usual. His eyes brightened when he saw me, and he picked up a book.

“It is new!” he said. “It just came in yesterday, and I thought you might like it.”

It had a green cover with gold lettering. The title was Faust: A Tragedy.

My life was a tragedy. I remembered that I had spoken to him the very day I had met Karl. If only I had tarried, read another book that day instead. If only I could turn back time.

I had barely survived the week, doing chores, though I was sick each morning and terrified what Father would do if he found out. All day long, the river called to me, asking me to become one with it, like the sailor in the story. I was already of the river. We had grown up together, like siblings. It would be easy, so easy, the ripples overtaking me, sparkling like diamonds, turning me into a diamond, bright and dead.

I waved the clerk off.

The young man’s face fell, and he pretended that he had merely been shelving the book. He dusted it off, even blew on it. I did not see what he did next, for I turned away. I was looking for Karl.

He did not come. He did not come. I searched from one side of the stall to the other. I walked outside and all around. The brightly colored wares hurt my eyes, and the merchants’ chatter assaulted my ears. He did not come. He would not come. My life was more tragic than Faust’s, whoever he was.

Suddenly I felt something touch my shoulder, light as a butterfly. Kendra.

“He did not come.” It was a statement, not a question.

I shook my head, more of a twitch, really. I did not want to think about it, much less admit it.

“Then you must go to him.”

“How?”

“I will help you.”

She told me she had heard (she omitted how) of a large party of dignitaries and their servants who would be visiting the palace in the coming days. Kendra would use magic (the mirror was just the beginning of her powers, apparently!) to help me gain entry as one of this party. Once I did, I could confront Karl.

Or, rather, his father, the king.

“But what will I say to them?”

A drop of rain fell onto my cheek with a splat. Then another on my shoulder. I didn’t care. I was like the rubbish left out, rubbish to be rained upon.

Kendra ushered me inside the stall, waving off the young assistant’s curious glance.

“Tell the truth, plain and strong. They will surely listen. What parent could ignore his own grandchild?”

“He is a prince.” I was weeping. “They will want him to marry a princess, someone . . . special.”

Kendra stroked my hair and said, “They will love you. And, if all else fails, tell them you can spin straw into gold.”

“What?” I looked up at her, certain I had misheard. She had turned away, looking at the young assistant. When she saw me, she looked back.

“Nothing, dear, nothing.” She produced a handkerchief, seemingly from nowhere. “Nothing. I am certain they will love you on sight.”

The party was to arrive on Saturday afternoon. Early Saturday morning, I snuck out before Father even woke and met Kendra outside her stall. There, she used magic to outfit me as a grand lady, much like in Mr. Perrault’s story of Cinderella. She handed me a small satchel with a change of clothing and the mirror. “If you have any trouble, contact me.”

She led me to the town, to the castle, where the crowds stared, where I once had stared, hoping for a glimpse inside. I felt ill.

“How will I get inside?”

Kendra gestured toward the gates, and, as she did, the crowds parted, allowing me through. At the front of the crowd, there was a party, wealthy and grand.

I surveyed the group of travelers. The gentlemen wore wigs and coats embellished with gold braid. The ladies were all fashionable, with low-necked gowns displaying their pearls and jewels. I glanced at my own chest. Though Kendra had outfitted me as a wealthy woman in green velvet, my only jewelry was a cross from Father and a small ring that had been my mother’s. They would know I was not one of them. They would know their own party, of course.

I glanced at Kendra to tell her this.

She was gone.

I wanted to run, and I was going to, but my feet felt as if cast in plaster, and I could not move.

Alex Flinn's books