Page 2 of A Cursed Son

The schism between my friends is uncomfortable. We always promised to treat each other like sisters, and now Sayanne and Tarlia barely talk to each other. I hate being stuck in the middle. Sayanne thinks I’m taking sides, but I’m not. I wish we could all be sisters again, but I guess there’s no return to the time when drusils were enough to bring us bliss.

Sayanne. Will I let her spend an entire day with Quin and his beautiful smile? After her spiteful words?

I notice Fachin leaning over and grabbing Tarlia’s breasts, his hips moving faster and faster, and I avert my gaze before I see too much. All the endurance training is paying off, I guess. Or else my standard for comparison is terrible. I know it’s bad, and I’d rather not remember it.

Would I want an evening of pleasure with Quin? Not really. I want more. I know I want more, and the Almighty Mother told me there’s nothing wrong with that.

In my dreams, I lean against a chest with a star, enveloped in a tender hug filled with love and affection, feeling so safe in those arms. They are just dreams, but what if they’re a sign? What if it’s Quin? I know he doesn’t have a star on his chest, but these things are symbolic.

Great. Here I go, swarmed by hopeless delusions. But what if?

I decide to leave Tarlia’s window and bring the drusils another day. This is her room, her private moment, and I’ve already breached her privacy much more than I should have.

As I step on the ledge to return to my window, Quin’s dreadful smile comes to mind again. Could I risk ruining my reputation and all my hard work just for the opportunity to spend a few hours with him? Alone with him, traveling in a carriage to a remote region. An evening away from the castle. We would get the chance to spend time together, without ears overhearing us. I would see some of the kingdom, some of the forest, the River of Tears.

And what if Quin is my kindred soul, the one in dreams, the one I hear whispering those soft words my mind can’t comprehend, but my heart can?

See, there’s the nonsense talking. But what if? Can I make a stupid decision based on a tiny, tiny chance that going on this mission could bring us together?

That smile.

I step into my room and don’t recognize my thoughts anymore. That’s a different, crazy Astra, not the Astra who needs to be perfect, the one whose life depends on it.

But it’s just one day. One trip. One chance.

A plan forms quickly in my mind.

Who am I fooling? I’ve had this plan for a long time, but kept burying it deep, ashamed of those rebellious thoughts.

I reach under my mattress and take the small bag with the forty silver ducks. Who would guess that shame could take the form of coins?

They are my reminder never to open my heart again. Never to be silly again. And yet. Yes, it’s foolish, but I can’t help it. Love, or rather, the possibility of love, is like a strange hot iron. You touch it, get burned, but then want to touch it again.

I open my door, thankful that the hallway is empty. We’re not supposed to leave our wing at night, but there are always cleaning maids passing by, usually collecting laundry. Indeed I see Sofia trailing my way, carrying a pile of towels, and I beckon her.

She frowns, but approaches me. “Yes, my lady.”

Lady. I wish. Oh, I wish.

I pull her hand and put three silver ducks in it. I’ve clung to these coins for so long, treasuring my pain, and yet all I feel now is relief to get rid of some of them. “Convince the kitchen to make passion fruit custard tomorrow for dessert at lunch, and I’ll give you three more ducks.”

She stares at the coins, then back at me. “I don’t choose the menu, my lady.”

With my hands around hers, I close the coins in. “Certainly the ducks can do some talking. I’m just… craving it.” I give her an innocent smile.

Sofia looks at me up and down, in a calculating gaze, then whispers, “Seven more. For the cooks. And I want them now.”

No, I can’t give her my coins now. What if she doesn’t do what I ask? Odd how this part of the plan, which should be the easiest, is already encountering obstacles.

I decide to remain firm, instead of trying to be friendly. “Tomorrow night. Five more.” I show her the palm of my hand, as if to take back the coins. “But if you don’t want the deal, I understand.”

I’m applying some of what I learned in our personality class. In a negotiation, you can’t show how much you care for something, or people will exploit you. You need to act as if you are ready to give up at any moment, that you don’t care.

Sofia lowers her head. “You’ll get your custard, my lady.”

The reason I want passion fruit custard is that it’s going to disguise the taste, and Tarlia doesn’t like it, so only Sayanne will eat it. This is disgraceful behavior, for sure. But then, don’t I deserve to give destiny a push?

The woman disappears down the hall and I ready myself to walk on the ledge once more. Am I truly going to break into my master’s study and steal some poison?