Birthday

“You really should be at school, you know,” Oriana said.

A coughing fit followed these words, but she tried to keep it quiet. Her mother would only allow her out of doors on sunny days, but if Oriana showed any proof of distress, back inside she would go.

“You’re going to get caught, otherwise.”

“If I were in school, how could I help you?” Bree asked.

She was hiding behind a low stone wall that separated Oriana’s home from the rest of the city. She dared not talk to her directly over the fence. She knew how her parents felt about magic.

“You can’t live your whole life based on magic,” Oriana whispered. “No one will give you a job if you don’t have any schooling.”

Bree laughed.

“I have more money in my pocket than my father has ever had. I’ve been saving, you know, for my big trip. That and putting a few apples on our table from time to time. Besides, Alma doesn’t seem to mind.”

Alma was Bree’s grandmother, her father’s mother, and there wasn’t an ounce of magic in her body.

But there was in Bree’s. More than she knew what to do with. She was sixteen and wild as the wind that messed up her long, brown hair.

Oriana’s chronic illness made her care about little else other than Bree and the pain relief her visits gave her. Her legs had been deteriorating of late, and she had found herself unable to walk just a few days ago.

“I wish you could come out with me,” Bree said. “I could bring you into the meadow and show you the stars.”

“I can see the stars from my window, silly.”

Bree scoffed.

“That’s nothing. When you get better, I’m going to take you out.”

Oriana paused. Then, “When will that be?”

She sounded sad. Hollow.

She was twelve today, and while she would’ve liked nothing more than to accompany Bree, she knew it was unlikely to happen. Beyond unlikely. What gifts could she expect, anyway? Her parents were wealthier than most in Eagleview, but they spent their money on treatments for their daughter. For her.

Treatments that never worked.

So they ate the same stale bread like everyone else and fought to keep their family heirlooms out of the pool of money they used for doctors.

“Soon, if you can get close enough to the gate.”

Bree started shifting over, trying to make it look like she was just taking a rest against the wall. She slowly moved closer, and when she reached the gate, she peeked through the bars.

Prison bars, as far as she was concerned.

“Can you make it over here?” she whispered.

Oriana sighed.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Well, you have to try, don’t you?”

Oriana knew Bree was right. She hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, and she’d been getting nothing but worse since they’d last spoken.

She looked around and back at the house. Perhaps her mother was busy enough that she would be keeping her eagle eye off Oriana for just a few minutes.

If only her chair had wheels.

She scooted up to the edge, then pushed her body off the chair, hitting the stone patio hard against her knees.

But that didn’t matter. She could barely feel them at all anymore.

She pushed herself up onto all fours and slowly crawled across the yard to meet Bree. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached the gate and turned to lean her back against the iron bars, breathing hard.

“You’ll need to turn around,” Bree said.

But Oriana was tired, and she sat for a moment, maybe for a moment too long, before she turned.

Bree passed a vial of Light to her.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

Oriana lit up.

“You remembered my birthday? I don’t even think my parents remember at this point.”

“No matter,” she said. “Use it when no one is looking. I stole it off my old man, and he usually harvests good quality Light from the pools.”

“Thank you,” Oriana whispered. She tucked it into her bodice, for Oriana was always dressed like a princess, sick as she was. Bree wasn’t jealous, though.

Not really.   

She reached out with her hands and placed them on Oriana’s shoulders. Then, putting her head down, she tried hard to concentrate.

She was untrained, and her magic was wild and dangerous, but she was usually able to help her friend. Helping someone that she loved was often enough for her to focus her powers acutely versus blowing things up. It was for this reason that she was unable to reliably make a living as a sorceress. Occasionally, she was able to help those with severe illness because it brought a combination of pity and hope to her mind. But she was unreliable with people seeking potions for love and power, and more often than not, the vials of potion she provided would backfire against the buyer.

She had a reputation among the people who lived outside the castle walls, and it wasn’t a good one.

But with Oriana, it was easy. She was so injured. So innocent. So deserving.

Bree imagined her friend up on her feet once more, breathing normally instead of the strained, choking breath she usually had. She imagined her cheeks rosy instead of white, her feet strong instead of shriveled.

Slowly, her power began to run into Oriana’s body, and she visibly improved, her breath quieting, her body relaxing.

“Oh, I wish I could see you every day. If only Mother would allow you in. Then she might understand.”

“What might she understand?”

The voice of Oriana’s mother grated on Bree, and she turned away from Oriana and got to her feet.

“Mrs. Forrest,” Bree said. She tried hard to look innocent. One needed to be trained by the head sorcerer in the kingdom before they were allowed to use magic. It was a rule often broken by desperate families, though, and she herself had flouted the rules many, many times.

It was a stupid law, she thought, one that only served to trap the poor into forced work duty.

Oriana’s mother gripped Bree by the front of her tunic.

“Next time, I call the lawmen.”

“But can’t you see? Look at her.”

Bree was right. Oriana was on her feet and grabbing for her mother’s arm.

“Mother, look.”

She held out one foot at a time, then hopped up and down on her newly healed legs.

But this wasn’t enough for Mrs. Forrest.

“You’ll get all of us arrested,” she spat at Bree. “You’re a dangerous girl. Now get out of my sight.” She pushed Bree away so forcefully she almost landed on the stone street.

“But mother…”

“In!” her mother said, pointing.

Oriana looked over the wall at Bree.

“I’ll talk to her,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

Then, glaring at her mother, she walked back inside.

Oriana’s younger brother, Brand, was stuck in his baby chair, strapped down like a little prisoner. He was picking up the tiny pieces of bread his mother had softened with milk and throwing them onto the floor. Oriana bent over to pick them up.

“Oriana, sit down,” her mother scolded.

“I don’t need to sit down, mother! I’m up straight right now. Can’t you see?”

She put the discarded pieces of bread back onto the baby chair for Brand, who immediately smashed both of his hands down into the bread and squeezed it out from between his fingers.

Oriana grimaced.

“You just wait until your father gets home,” her mother said. “He’ll be furious.”

She pulled out a chair for her to sit in, but Oriana wasn’t ready to give up so soon. Her body was teeming with energy, a side effect of Bree’s magic that she always felt after a jolt of it.

“I don’t see why he should be upset at all,” she said. She walked into the kitchen and took up a plate for washing. “I’m only ever better after she comes.”

“It’s illegal,” her mother hissed. “We can’t afford to risk it with the lawmen, and you know it. We’re already under suspicion because of your illness. We don’t need to give them any reason to come snooping around.”

“Why would my illness make them suspicious?”

Her mother sighed.

“Sickness makes people desperate. Parents especially. The lawmen know that we’re the most likely kind of family to use illegal magic.”

“So, you’re desperate to heal me, but you bypass the one treatment that always works because you’re scared of getting arrested? That’s crazy.”

“Oh, is it?”

Brand was shoving little handfuls of mushy bread into his mouth now, then spitting them out again.

"How would you like to move into the orphanage? You and Brand could go together to the children's home. Would you like that while your father and I languish in one of the towers? I assure you there would be no treatment for you there, magic or otherwise. You'd be dead in a year."

“So buy Light from the vendors, then.”

Her mother stared sideways at her.

The vendors in town illegally sold Light to the desperate. The only reason the lawmen let them was that they themselves would impose a hefty tax on the magic, collecting it for their own uses.

If a regular citizen was caught using it, they would be arrested. It was a secret trade made legal by the whims of the lawmen. Anyone buying Light needed to be always on the lookout. Best to take a swig from a vial the moment money changed hands, just to be on the safe side; they couldn't catch you if you didn't have it.

“I can’t do it,” her mother said quietly. “Oriana, you know that your grandfather has spent the majority of his life in those towers and then out in the field, neck red from days and days in the sun. That can’t be us.”

“You’re so selfish,” Oriana spat. “You say that I’d be dead in a year on my own, but you know that’s not true. I would be able to see Bree anytime I choose, and I would probably be healthier than ever.”

Her mother’s face had grown hard, and now little Brand was watching the exchange, his brown eyes moving back and forth between the two of them as they argued, mash forgotten.

“I do everything to care for you, and this is the thanks that I get? You tell me you’d rather have me in jail so you could go skipping about with that little tramp?”

“She’s not a tramp, mother. She’s—”

Slap!

Oriana’s hand flew to her cheek, the skin smarting from her mother’s blow. She looked up at her, scathing.

“You see?” she said, voice low and dangerous. “You wouldn’t dare hit me if I were sick right now. But here I am, standing in front of you, healthy and whole, upright all on my own. You're a terrible woman!"

Oriana turned and stormed off to the bedroom she shared with Brand, slamming the door behind her. She sat down hard on her feather bed and punched her pillow several times, finally lifting it to her face so that she could scream long and loud into it.

She was in for it now, she knew. Her father would be home within the hour, and he never let his belt languish when there was a direct disobeying, sick or not.

She wondered if her mother would tell him about what had happened or if she would cover for her.

It was a small kindness she hoped for but didn't necessarily want.

Oriana knew, though, that her mother's word was law and that her father's was the final gavel on the wood.

She dug into her bodice for the little vial of Light Bree had left her with. It shimmered and swam in the darkness of the room, the only source of light as the night descended upon them.

I should save it.

But for when?

She'd never had liquid Light before. It was expensive, and her parents obviously wouldn't buy it for her. Bree must have snuck into her father's stores and skimmed this little dose off the top of many other vials so as to go unnoticed.

It was hers now. And she couldn’t be caught with it.

She unstoppered it and tilted her head back, swallowing it in one gulp.

The sensation was even greater than the feeling of Bree’s hands on her shoulders. All the way down her throat and into her stomach, she could feel the healing properties of the Light. And it didn’t stop there. It spread out until it reached the tips of her fingers and toes.

A wide smile spread across her face.

She needed to run.

She pulled on her shoes; she’d been so sick she hadn’t worn any shoes for weeks. She tied the laces tight before going to the door to stick her head out.

Her mother was slamming around in the kitchen, and Brand had started crying.

She was distracted.

Oriana crept into the hallway and hid behind the wall that separated their front door from the rest of the cottage. She looked out the tiny window, but in the fading light she didn't see her father anywhere. Slowly, carefully, she unlatched the handle and opened the door. It squeaked on its hinges, but Brand was crying so loudly, she herself could barely hear the squeaking over the din. She slipped outside and latched the door behind her, then crept low across the front garden and into the road.

Where should she go? She wondered if Bree was home yet. She didn’t even know where she lived. They had met a year or so back, but their relationship had included little else other than Bree hiding behind the wall and Oriana speaking to her over it. Bree had simply been walking by one day and called her out, and their friendship had sprung from there. Oriana thought that Bree must not have many friends to be spending time talking over the wall with her.

But what did she know?

As soon as she rounded the corner, she stood upright and tried to look like walking through town was something she did every day. The merchants were all starting to put away their wares with the night coming, but she still got to take a look. There was the baker with all that was leftover from the morning batches of bread. The milk cow and her calf were being walked down the road now, on their way to pasture and dinner. The old, fat man who sold oranges; who knew where he found such a thing around here?

Suddenly, she realized how much danger she was in, not from thieves or tramps, but from the men on their way home from the factories. Somewhere in one of those groups, her father would be trudging alongside them. He was the foreman, but his job was just as exhausting as anyone's.

She found herself hiding in alleys and alcoves, her shoes having picked up a considerable amount of mud during her brief travels outside of her home.

Then, she saw it—a break in the shacks on the other side of the road. There was an alley there, yes, and she could see the fields beyond.

She looked both ways and found there was a break in the groups of men on their evening march home. Could she see him? Her father? Surely he was among their numbers. Surely he would see her.

But this was no time for cowardice.

She ran for it, and the feeling of it was exhilarating. She dashed into the alley, and moments later, she was on the outskirts of town where the road ended and turned to grass.

It was dark out there, and she stopped running as she hit the meadow. She looked back at the town, relieved that the lights were so dim, only coming from windows, not street lights like inside the castle walls.

She was invisible.

Would she find Bree as she had hoped?

“Bree!” she called quietly into the night. “Bree!”

Suddenly, a head popped up from the grass, just visible in the moonlight.

“Oriana?” Bree called.

Yes!

Oriana broke into a run again and launched into her friend’s arms with such force they nearly went tumbling to the earth.

“How did you get out?” Bree asked, wiping at her face with her hands.

“I—well—I… Bree? Are you crying?”

“Crying? No.” She sniffed loudly, then buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, Bree!” Oriana took her hand and squeezed reassuringly. “What happened?” she asked.

Bree shook her head, unable to speak.

“Come on,” Oriana said. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

Together they sat, and though her friend was clearly in distress, Oriana still marveled at the feel of the grass across her palms, the brightness of the stars above her head. Bree had been right; they were brighter out here than through her bedroom window.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“No.”

Bree wiped her face again with the back of her sleeve. It was then that Oriana saw that the left side of her face was swollen and dark.

“Who did this to you?” she asked.

Bree shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Oriana thought about the slap she’d felt just an hour ago, but it seemed like child’s play compared to the blow Bree had taken.

She took Bree’s hand and cradled it in her lap. They both looked up into the sky.

“You see?” Bree said after a few minutes. “I told you about the stars.”

Oriana smiled, squeezing her hand again. A real friend.

“You were right about the Light, too. It was the perfect gift.”

Bree nodded.

Oriana didn’t know if she would be allowed to stay gone, to stay missing. She felt certain that she would be found by the end of the night. But for now, life was good. Perfect, even.

She would deal with her father when he came.

But it would all be worth it.

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