she called again. Her bare feet stumbled on the sticks and stones that scattered the path.
There was no light to guide her through the woods. She tripped over the root of a tree and felt pain unlike anything she had felt before. She curled into a ball and sobbed into the tattered nightgown. She heard footsteps running towards her and looked up. Tristian arrived and knelt down beside her.
“Serie, are you okay?”
Serie wiped the tears from her eyes. “Where were you?”
“I’m sorry I was late. I had a few things I had to sort out. What happened to you?”
“I fell out the window.”
A smile crept onto Tristian’s face. Laughter escaped his lips.
Serie stared at him. “What are you doing?” She pulled herself up from the ground.
“I’m sorry, it’s just funny,” Tristian laughed.
“Funny?” Serie frowned, her face quizzical.
“My dear, Serie, you still have so much to learn. I’m laughing because I’m trying to imagine what it would have looked like to watch you fall out the window.”
“You find pleasure in my pain?” Serie asked straight-faced.
“When you learn to take life less seriously, you’ll understand.”
Tristian smiled, walking back towards the cottage.
“Why are you going that way?”
“Serie, you’re a mess. We need to clean you up a bit.”
Serie looked down at the dirt clods on her white nightdress. Spots of blood from her scratches had stained the fabric. Serie followed Tristian to the stream that ran just near her cottage. He sat next to it, dipping a cloth from his pocket into the clear running water.
She sat down, dangling her dirty feet in the shallow water. She didn’t care that the hem of her nightgown was floating around her ankles.
Tristian’s cloth dabbed at the scratches on her arm.
“Ouch.”
“Hold still,” Tristian mumbled. His whispered words weaved their magic through her skin. Her arms tingled as the magic pulsed through them. When Tristian had finished, he picked up a smooth pebble from the ground and threw it across the water. It skipped once and hit the other side of the bank.
In the silence, Serie pondered what she should say to Tristian about the notebook. A more pressing matter needed to be addressed first.
“I think Maître knows something is going on with me,” Serie said.
“Why, what happened?”
“It was strange—he said that he had made the perfect pairing for me. I was going to be closer to the palace so that I didn’t have to walk through the dangers of the woods any more.”
Tristian frowned.
“How would he know? He never leaves Kalan,” Serie said.
“I know that you are trying to hide, but there is something different about you. You’re alert, standing taller, your eyes are filled with life. It would be noticeable to those who pay attention.”
Serie bit her lip, shifting slightly under Tristian’s gaze.
“Is everything okay, Serie?”
“I removed a book from Maître’s study.”
“Are you insane? Why did the strings not stop you?”
Serie didn’t respond at first. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, burdened by the myriad of words she was trying to piece together. She sighed, pushing the weight from her. “The thought had crossed my mind all afternoon. I can resist the strings. The strings wanted to stop me from taking it, but I just pushed through it.”
“Where is the book now?”
“In my room.”
Tristian jumped up, pulling Serie up with him. There was a nervous tension between them as they hurried towards the cottage. Tristian climbed through the window, helping Serie to scramble through. Without a word, Serie grabbed the book from under her bed and handed it to Tristian. She sat on the bed and watched as Tristian flicked through the tattered pages. Tristian remained nonplussed as he read.
“Did you read it, Serie?”
“I tried to, but the strings wouldn’t let me decipher it. What does it say?”
Tristian snapped the book shut. “I don’t think you’re ready to read it. Not yet, anyway. You were lucky you didn’t get caught. If anything good has come from this, it shows us that the strings don’t have the same control of you that they used to.”
A weak smile crept onto Serie’s lips. She watched as the glimmers of sunlight filtered through the window.
“You should lie down on the bed, the strings are returning,” Tristian murmured as he stood up from the bed.
Serie was reluctant to move. Hadn’t she done enough to rid herself of the strings? She wanted to stand at the window and watch as the strings descended and not come for her. Wouldn’t lying on her bed, waiting for the strings to return be the invitation for them to come back?
She was rooted to the spot when she saw the strings appear in the sky.
“You can’t risk it.”
One look at Tristian made her swallow her pride. She lay down on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. The sunlight grew brighter and with it the moment came closer until Serie knew if she would remain a captive of the strings for another day. She lay in silence, feeling Tristian look at her from where he stood near the window. She held her breath and waited. After a few moments the strings slipped through the ceiling and down to where Serie lay. Tears welled up in her eyes when the strings drove into her flesh.
“I’m sorry that you have been wasting your time, Tristian,” she sobbed.
Tristian shuffled closer to her bedside, placing the notebook into his pants pocket.
“Serie, it’s going to be okay. You will walk away from your strings. I know you will.”
His words were soothing, though they could not mask her sorrow. He gave her a smile and climbed out the window. Serie stood up and watched as Tristian disappeared.
Six
The strings refused to relinquish their hold on Serie, no matter how hard she fought against them. Much to her chagrin, she was still their prisoner two weeks later. She sighed as Tristian climbed out her window, leaving her to her daily fight. She half-pulled herself out of bed when it was time to rise. She dressed herself, choosing to wear the red shirt instead of the green that the strings wanted. She chose the black skirt instead of the white, the black boots instead of the brown shoes. The strings
