breakfast is ready.”
Serie did not respond but went to the kitchen table and pulled out her chair.
“Good morning, Serie,” her father said, looking up from his breakfast.
“Good morning,” she answered.
Her mother placed her bowl of cold porridge on the table.
Serie frowned, wishing she could have something else to eat. She hated porridge.
“Are you excited, Serie?” her father asked. “This time next week, you will almost be married.”
“Of course, what girl wouldn’t be excited?” Serie lied. The thought had started to make her feel ill. She wanted to be free from her strings before she was trapped in Kalan without Tristian.
She had to admit to herself that she felt guilty about Flynn. Yes, he was a puppet, but he still seemed to hold some form of affection for her. She would be abandoning him on their wedding day.
Her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“She’ll be living in Kalan next week, the wife of a knight. Maître has honoured our family greatly.”
“That he has, Mother,” Serie answered automatically.
“We’ll be all alone, Henry,” her mother said with a sigh.
“We have each other, Annie. Besides, Silas and Serie have their own lives to live as the strings intend.”
“I am still allowed to miss my children,” Annie said, placing her hand on top of Serie’s
Serie attempted to maintain her nonchalant appearance. She turned away from her parents when she felt tears prickle in the corner of her eyes. When she left with Tristian, she would be leaving her family behind. They were a part of her. Even if they never said they loved her, she cared for them. Her brother’s humming, her father’s earthy smell after working in the fields all day and her mother’s hand touching her shoulder—she would miss it.
“We all must be getting off to work, we don’t want to be late,” Henry said.
The week passed by, and Serie was still attached to her strings. She didn’t know what was keeping her attached. Her determination to walk free had grown so exponentially that she could overcome the power of the strings for longer periods of time. Her own voice drowned out the whisper of the strings in her head. Serie had not given up hope that she would be free.
She lay on her bed, watching the shadows that the moonlight cast on the floor. The pinch of her skin signalled her hour of freedom. She sat up, just as Tristian climbed through her window. She pulled on her clothes and shoes in haste.
“Do you ever sleep, Serie?” he asked.
“Yes, I do. But I’m too excited. I’m going to run tonight.”
“Do you think you’re ready for that? I mean, it’s a hard thing to master.”
“I’ve been ready my whole life,” Serie said.
She stumbled out of the house in excitement, Tristian at her heels. She inhaled the warm night air, as her heart pounded in her chest. At first her legs refused to move. Tristian came alongside her.
“Running is like walking, but fast. I’ll show you.”
Tristian laughed as he ran off into the woods.
Serie braced herself and forced her legs to mimic Tristian’s. She fumbled along the path at first, until she started to gain momentum before tumbling to the ground.
“You can do it, Serie,” Tristian cheered.
She started again; with each new attempt, her pace quickened. The morning breeze whipped through her hair as she mastered a steady rhythm. She bounded over the hill as she raced Tristian down to the stream. She slipped and tumbled into the shallow water.
“Serie, are you okay?”
Serie pulled herself from the water, falling onto the bank as laughter escaped her mouth for the first time. A lightness filled her body as the laughter rang out. Tristian sat next to her as she caught her breath.
“That was incredible,” she breathed. Her eyes drawn to the flickers of sunrise waiting to emerge. She jumped up, running back up the hill.
“I don’t want to stop,” Serie laughed.
The more she ran, the harder it was to stop smiling. Her cheeks ached, but it didn’t deter her. Her body felt almost like it was floating, the heaviness that she had carried for so long had lifted from her chest.
Her breath ran ragged, forcing her to pause at the top of the hill. She watched as the sunlight flooded over the landscape. The pink and orange hues of sunrise halted her adrenaline. Her heart skipped a beat in awe of the beauty she had never seen before. She was still, listening to the birds calling the sun out. The scent of wildflowers drifted into her nostrils. The morning breeze was warm and welcoming. Every other morning, she would be back in bed, waiting for her strings to come. Her peace dissolved when Tristian bounded towards her.
“Serie, the strings,” he called.
The strings had started their descent. She raced towards the house. Her heart pounded in her chest, as she made it to the garden path. She reached for the door, leaving it open in her rush. She fell onto the bed and looked up to the ceiling, half-hoping that her strings would not come for her.
“Please, don’t,” she moaned as she watched her strings descend. The adrenaline that pumped through her body ebbed away as the strings fought for their control.
“No,” Serie cried, trying to pull out her strings.
“Serie, stop pulling at them, it isn’t going to do anything,” Tristian said.
“I don’t want these wretched things any more,” she cried.
Tristian reached out to touch her, but her body lurched away as she was dragged off the bed.
“Why did they come back?” Serie muttered as she pulled on a clean skirt that wasn’t caked in mud.
“There is still something you aren’t letting go of.”
“I don’t know what it is. Tristian, my wedding is today. I can’t leave Kalan after that. How am I going to do this without you?”
“Serie, you have been doing a lot of things for yourself, even waking up before the strings leave. I think you are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
Tristian took a hold of Serie’s hand, causing the strings to disappear. He led her out to the woods.
“What are we going to do?” Serie asked.
“I don’t know, I can’t hold on to you forever. But remember that walking away from your strings means leaving behind everything that you have ever known. Is that something that you are truly ready for?”
Serie looked at Tristian, noting
