Page 2 of Tangled Sails

Aunt Ethel stepped inside with a bowl of cut vegetables in hand. She kept all the knives in a room below, worried I’d cut my hair. I’d tried once, when it first started growing out of control. “Hello, my dear,” she said in a cheery tone.

“Hello, Auntie.”

She crossed to the kitchen to set down her burden and then turned back to study me. “You look flushed.”

“Do I?”

“You are not getting ill, are you?” She came over to press a hand to my forehead. “You know how important it is to take care of yourself.”

“I feel perfectly fine,” I assured her.

“Good.” Auntie hated it when I was sick. It was difficult for me to heal others when I was not feeling well, and natural herbs and healing draughts were hard to come by, which meant that Auntie would have to purchase healing potions. I hated drinking magic. It made me feel off and I didn’t trust it. If only I could heal myself.

Auntie went back to the door and disappeared through it once again, this time leaving it open. This was part of our usual routine. I sighed, envious of her ability to move about so freely. She went to retrieve a bucket of water from the well close by so that I could wash the bottom of my hair. Having so many people touch it, sometimes with blood on their hands, left it looking a bit gruesome by the time I was done each day.

I looked out at the sprawling view beyond my balcony and, seeing no one else on their way to visit me, I started pulling my braid over the railing, careful not to let it rub against the stone, lest the strands break. My hair was long enough to reach the bottom of the tower while still leaving a bit of it trailing on the floor where I sat. For a year after my gift manifested, it had grown at an unfathomable rate, reaching past my feet in the first month and growing more and more each day. Aunt Ethel wouldn’t let me cut it, saying it would destroy the magic, and I’d been terrified that it would never stop growing. Fortunately, it had stopped after a year, leaving it ten times my own height.

After I’d washed the bottom portion of my hair, I arranged it on the floor in a pool of sunlight to dry before helping Aunt Ethel prepare our evening meal.

“Did I hear Gregor here early this morning?” she asked after we’d sat down to eat.

My heart jumped, wondering if she’d seen the book, but she sounded more curious than accusatory—stars be praised. “Yes, he’d gotten into a tussle with a friend and hurt his arm.” I was grateful to have that truth to tell her.

“He comes to see you often.”

I snorted. “He’s a foolish boy who thinks he’s invincible.” Just like the rest of them.

She looked me over with an intensity that made me squirm. “He’s a man now. And he likes you.”

It was an odd thing to say. Was she suggesting that someone liking me was a bad thing? “We are friends,” I said, trying not to sound like that fact was monumental in and of itself. After all, I didn’t have friends.

“Lyrielle…” Her face softened and she gave me a pitying look. It was a look I’d seen often and one that I loathed. It was the face she made when she was going to tell me a harsh reality of life that she expected me to swallow despite its biting bitterness. “You know you can never be with him, dear.”

My eyelids fluttered and widened in surprise. “Be with him?”

She tilted her head toward the little rounded balcony where my chair sat, and her pitying look turned stern. “Your life is here. Any ideas you may have about marrying that silly boy and going away should be set aside this moment. You are obligated to do what you can for the good of others.”

My mouth dropped open in confusion. I’d never once thought about Gregor in a romantic sense. He made me smile. He treated me like a whole person, not just a tool to be used. But I’d never let myself wonder if I could marry Gregor. Despite my yearning for a family, I refused to torture myself by pining for young men who were out of my reach.

I longed to marry someday, but I had to leave this tower first. I’d always assumed I would be allowed to grow up and have a family of my own, that I could have the sort of life my parents had lived with each other, but the way my aunt was speaking…

I spoke up, my voice tentative. “Surely I will marry some day, Auntie. Every woman should have her own family.”

She leaned forward and cupped my cheek in her hand. “Not you, my darling. You must utilize your gift. That is your work.”

My eyes stung. “But that doesn’t mean I need to stay here all the time, does it?” I pleaded.

“You listen to me,” she said gently. “Your magic is powerful. We are lucky we live so far from the seat of the High Court; if they knew of your abilities, they might want you for themselves. Or worse yet, they might feel threatened by you.”

“But I’m no one.”

She shook her head, her brow furrowed in concern. “Not to them.”

“What does that mean?” She always said things like this, and I never understood what she was trying to say. Yes, she mistrusted the High Court, but didn’t we all? They were the most powerful people in the magisterium. Most were power hungry and ruthless.

“Your place is here,” she reiterated, each word carefully placed before me. “It will always be here. You are too valuable to throw yourself away on something as mundane as marriage.” She gave me a teary smile, then turned and walked back to the kitchen.

My lungs felt empty and I could not draw breath. My limbs were numb. My one wish—to live my own life and have a family—had been instantly dismissed by the woman who called herself my family, my protector. She’d brushed it aside as if just her few words could make me forget that there was an entire world outside of this tower, one that I was desperate to be a part of. She expected me to stay. And stay, and stay.