Chapter 13: I Killed Nana

Hers was a cold room, without a fireplace. Alyse's door fit so tightly she was glad of the youthful muscles in her arms. It took all her might to pull it closed at night, and in the morning, all of it again to push it open.

Though she sought out Saoirse, only on her fourth day at the castle did Alyse see her. Alyse had taken her mending into the kitchen to have the heat of the cooking fires. When the day warmed and Cook opened the shutters, Alyse spied Saoirse in the garden, sitting on a bench, looking at the ground, doing nothing, but swinging a leg.

“Poor babe.” Cook's words mirrored those in Alyse's soul. “Her heart is plumb broken. She hasn't smiled once since her Nana was taken.”

A glimmer of hope, then a plan, and a lovingly stitched smock embroidered with flowers and trimmed with lace brought Alyse to the child who was again sitting in the garden. “I made this for you.”

But Saoirse wasn't looking at the smock. Rather her eyes were fixed on the smoky blue light around Alyse's head, so like Nana's, filled with the sadness of unshed tears. Jumping from the bench, Saoirse launched herself at Alyse, throwing her arms around her waist, breathing in the scent of her, of roast chicken from the cooking fires, and lavender soap, and another scent—the scent of Nana.

“What's your name?” Saoirse whispered.

Alyse knelt in front of her. “Alyse.”

Saoirse petted Alyse's dark hair. “Can you be my friend?”

Alyse sniffed back tears. “Yes, I'd like that.” She plunged forward, daring to speak the truth. “Saoirse, I know that you are magic.”

Saoirse jumped back. “Don't tell.”

“No, no, I won't tell. I won't.” But her betrayal of Saoirse to the dragon rounded down Alyse's shoulders. The smoky blue of Alyse's aura dimmed, until the blue was the dull gray of an icy winter sky.

“Why are you so sad?”

As Alyse sat down on the bench, Saoirse scrambled up beside her, kneeling on her knees rather than sitting on her bottom. Turning toward her new friend, her small hands pushed the hair out of Alyse's eyes.

“I've done something, lass, that I'm not proud of.” Alyse clasped together her own trembling hands. “I'm sorry for it, but there's no going back. I canna undo it.” Threads of white concern meandered through the dull gray cloud hovering about Alyse's head.

Alyse's sadness touched the pain within Saoirse. The child spoke, her voice dull, completely flat, without emotion; it was the voice of a ninety-year-old woman, filled with regret. “I'm bad. I killed Nana.”

“No child. You are not to blame.” Alyse's voice was castle-forged iron. “The dragon is evil. The beast hurt Nana, not you.”

“But it's my fault—because I'm magic.”

Gathering Saoirse in huge hug, Alyse kissed the top of her head. The comfort unleashed Saoirse's tears. “Please, please, don't tell Mother and Father. They won't love me.”

“What? I'm sure . . . ” Alyse abruptly stopped talking. She can read my aura, and well I know of their selfishness. Why, they barely love the child now.

Aching, her heart hurting in her chest, Alyse searched for words. Don't lie. Around them the garden blazed with color. The maple had gone gold, and the leaves of the lilac burned bright orange. Along the path, some plant had scattered chocolate-colored seed pods. “I love you,” Alyse whispered.

Saoirse moved in her arms, drawing back, looking up at Alyse's face with astonishment. “You're sparkling.”

“Shhh.” Alyse laid her finger across Saoirse's lips.

Leaning forward until their foreheads touched, Saoirse whispered, “White stars are twinkling around you. I like white; it means you care about me.”

Alyse again took Saoirse into her arms, repeatedly kissing her hair. You are my child. Oh, why didn't I see it? What that old Lady took from me, God restored.

“You have two sounds,” Saoirse whispered. “They're like bells.”

“Oh, two sounds. Well now, I must be special.”

Every day Alyse met Saoirse in the garden, and every day Saoirse had a new question. “Alyse,” Saoirse drew back to look fully at Alyse's face—and her aura, “Will the dragon come back? Nana wasn't magic, so maybe it's still hungry.”

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If only I could lie.

“Yes, the dragon is going to come back.”

Saoirse began to shake, her breath like the panting of a dog, her face contorted in terror. “It's going to eat me!”

Alyse grabbed her and pulled her close. “Look at my aura, child. Look at it. I'm speaking the truth. That dragon won't get here until you’re grown.”

“Really?”

“Look!” Alyse swirled her arm around her head, indicating her aura.

Saoirse studied Alyse's aura; no black threads of deception wove themselves through the smoky blue. “What about then?”

Alyse took a deep breath. “We'll run. When the dragon comes, all the castle will look to Seer Murtagh. They will throw him to the dragon, and when they do, we will flee.” With her mouth inches from Saoirse's ear, she said, “I know how to get out of the castle. There are secret passageways.”

Saoirse's eyes opened wide. “Secret passageways?”

“Yes. Listen, child. Until the dragon comes, you must learn all you can from Seer Murtagh about magic. Have him tell you as many stories as he can remember.”

Saoirse interrupted. “He doesn't let me read the books. And sometimes he lies.”

“Oh, lass, I know. Never tell Murtagh that you are magic. He will surely betray you. Oh, child . . . what he did to his sister.”

That night, at Saoirse's nagging, Alyse slept in Nana's old bed. As the sound of Saoirse's breathing filled the small room, Alyse rose and paced. “God, if ever someone needed help, it's me. Prove to me that you really exist. I'm not asking for myself, but for the child. Please, tell me. How do I kill a dragon?”

“Nana. Nana.” Saoirse, still asleep, jerked and flailed in the bed.

Hastening to Saoirse's bed, Alyse lay down beside her. “Shhh. It's me, child. You're safe.”

“I killed Nana.”

“No, lass. No.”

“Are you going to die, too?”

“No, child. I'm staying right here.”

Every night afterward, Saoirse pleaded with Alyse. “Sleep here.” Finally, Alyse moved into the nursery.

Alyse gave strict orders that the name Nana was never to be mentioned in Saoirse's hearing.

Perhaps she'll forget.

Saoirse turned into the perfect child, never disobeying, always trying to help. Sometimes she would ask Alyse, “I'm not really bad, am I?”

 

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