Page 18

Issylte quickly shed her cloak and rushed to the girl’s side. The child was trembling, with sweat beading on her brow. She, the young healer, knelt beside the bed and took hold of the little girl’s hand.

A wave of frost shivered up Issylte’s spine.

The icy chill of her stepmother’s grip—the numbness and tingling, draining her energy and sapping her strength—blasted through her like a biting winter wind.

Issylte jumped to her feet, recoiling in horror.

She stumbled back, her chest heaving, unable to speak.

Maiwenn rushed forward and took Issylte’s place beside the girl.

The child’s frantic mother, her eyes fixed upon Issylte with terror, was rocking back and forth at the foot of the small bed.

Maiwenn asked her to fetch a cup of water.

Issylte, who had found shelter behind a chair near the front door, watched helplessly as her tatie withdrew a vial from the basket of supplies, placed a drop of liquid into the cup, and helped the child sit up enough to drink a few swallows.

Maiwenn fetched an ointment from the basket, massaging it briskly into the girl’s arms and legs, rubbing the frail limbs as if to improve the flow of blood.

She covered the little patient with a woolen blanket and stroked the child’s damp hair.

After a few minutes, the moaning and writhing stopped.

The young girl smiled weakly at Maiwenn, a gap from a missing tooth in her innocent grin.

“My tummy feels better now,” she whispered. “And my arms and legs don’t feel all prickly anymore.”

Maiwenn wiped the child’s brow and leaned down to plant a soft kiss upon her forehead. “Sleep now, sweetheart. And stay away from those purple flowers. That’s what made you sick.”

The child nodded, snuggling into the warm blankets, relief spreading across her sweet face.

Maiwenn motioned for the girl’s parents to approach. Issylte listened by the door.

“She might have diarrhea for the next day or two. Give her plenty of water and rest. She will be fine. But you must keep her away from the dark purple flowers near the stream. They are poisonous.”

The young parents, their eyes filled with grateful tears, nodded earnestly, thanking Maiwenn with eager handshakes.

The girl’s mother paid the healer with a basket of fresh vegetables from her garden, and the young father escorted Maiwenn and Issylte back to their stone cottage.

He bowed in gratitude before Maiwenn and returned gratefully to his humble home.

Maiwenn lit a candle, for it had grown dark, adding another log to the fire in the hearth.

She seated Issylte at the little table, set the yarrow scented candle before the shaken princess, then went into the kitchen to prepare two cups of tisane.

Returning with the steaming chamomile tea, Maiwenn sat down across from Issylte, her large brown eyes tinged with worry.

“What happened when you touched the girl’s hand?”

Issylte shuddered at the memory. She sipped her tisane to bolster her courage.

“I sensed my stepmother’s icy hand, draining my strength.

The same numbness and tingling creeping up my arm.

Like death .” Issylte’s lips quivered. She groaned in despair.

“I couldn’t save her, Tatie . That little girl would have died. I was too frightened to save her.”

Maiwenn took Issylte’s hand. She gazed at the flickering flame of the fragrant candle.

Inhaled the soothing, sweet scent of yarrow.

“Sometimes we falter. Lose faith in our gift.” Maiwenn’s large brown eyes glowed in the soft light.

“I did, twenty years ago. When I failed to save my daughter Solenn and her husband.”

Issylte glanced up in shock. Maiwenn squeezed her hand, her eyes blazing like the flame before them.

“I tried everything, églantine. Herbs, tinctures, potions, ointments. Whispers, enchantments, prayers. Nothing worked. My gift failed me. And when my beautiful daughter died, my heart shriveled up like a neglected flower. I scorned my magic. Abandoned it. In my rage, grief, and guilt, I blamed it for their deaths. I, la Fée Verte de la Forêt , abandoned the divine gift of the Goddess. Until She sent you to my door.”

Maiwenn kissed Issylte’s hand, her expressive eyes glimmering.

“I, my dear princess, have learned from you, as you have from me. Through you, the Goddess has reawakened my power. And tonight, because of that, I was able to save a life.” Maiwenn took hold of Issylte’s other hand and shook both at once, as if to impart the urgency of her message.

“Never abandon your gift, églantine. Never wallow in the darkness as I have so foolishly done all these long, lonely years. Face your fears, dear heart. If you fail, don’t give up.

Learn from your mistakes and become even stronger.

And always cherish your gift. Shine the divine light of the Goddess as you wield your power. To heal .”

Maiwenn kissed Issylte’s hands. “I thank Her for returning my gift through you. Tonight, I was able to save that child. Thanks to you.” Maiwenn’s beautiful, wrinkled face shone with divine light.

Pensive, the fairy witch took a sip of her tisane , gazing at the crackling hearth. “Your gift is even stronger than my own, églantine.” Maiwenn turned to face her. Issylte’s heart caught in her throat.

“Some fairies have the gift of sight. A power that reveals itself when images appear on water, foretelling the future. Sometimes, the gift of sight occurs through touch. When a fairy can envision forthcoming events, such as what you experienced when you sensed the icy hand of your stepmother the queen.”

Maiwenn sipped her tea, meeting Issylte’s enrapt gaze.

“That little girl had ingested wolfsbane. The purple flowers we saw near the stream. When you touched her hand, you sensed the poison with your gift of sight. Just as you did when your stepmother took your hand. Your sight has shown that the queen will somehow use wolfsbane, perhaps as a means to acquire power. Your gift was warning you of the danger.”

That evening, Issylte found sleep elusive.

Fear had prevented her from saving the little girl.

She felt ashamed, guilty, and weak. But Maiwenn’s message inspired her.

She did need to face her fear of the wicked queen.

Overcome it somehow. Develop her strength and skill.

She was thrilled to be a forest fairy, like Maiwenn, with the power to wield the healing essence of the forest. Yet the queen terrified her.

Tendrils of tingling numbness crept up her arm as her stepmother’s icy fingers gripped her hand. She shivered, rubbing her arms to ward off the frost.

Her stepmother had already tried to kill her once. If she discovered Issylte was still alive, she would try again. Perhaps with the poison wolfsbane. Issylte shuddered, pulling the blankets around her tightly.

She needed to discover more about her gift, to defend herself from the wicked queen.

She would develop her power. Overcome her fear. And find a way to save her father.