Dragonfly Maid

It couldn’t all be a coincidence.
Mrs. Crossey must have sensed my unease.
“It will be fine,” she cajoled. “What could happen to the Queen at her breakfast table, surrounded by her ladies? Just be alert. Look for anything out of the ordinary.”
Out of the ordinary? Hadn’t this entire day been marked by things out of the ordinary? “Doesn’t Mr. Wyck qualify in that regard?”
She pursed her lip and her gaze turned hard and unyielding. “Forget Mr. Wyck for the time being.”
“But he—”
She raised a single finger. “Do you understand?”
She waited for me to nod before she continued.
“Your concern—your only concern for now—is to focus whatever faculties you possess and whatever powers of observation you can muster on the Queen and her safety. Do you understand?”
I nodded, though reluctantly.
“Are you not sure?” she demanded.
Why wouldn’t she entertain the possibility that Mr. Wyck was connected somehow? How could she dismiss him so easily? But the set of her jaw told me there was no convincing her, so I changed course. “What if something does happen while I’m up there? What should I do?”
“Nothing. You do absolutely nothing but bring the matter to my attention as quickly as possible. That’s all.”
I stared into my empty cup. The threat against the Queen may or may not be nonsense, but the dread I sensed was most certainly real.
“You can do this,” she said. “You say you see the past, but the truth about your gift is that you see what you want to see. With proper training, you’ll be able to sense the past, present, or future, if you want to. Not easily at first, but it will become easier.”
In her eyes, I could see that she believed what she was saying. Her mind was made up, and to be honest, I had no more energy to argue. It was too late, and I was too tired. I dipped my head and muttered the only thing I knew she wanted to hear. “Yes, ma’am.”
I rose and shuffled toward the corridor.
She grabbed a bundle of white folded linen from the shelf beneath the table. “You’re going to need this.”
I recognized the ruffles that differentiated an upstairs apron from my plain one.
“Don’t worry,” she said, handing me the bundle. “It will be fine.”
“Of course it will.” I tried to mean it.
Her lips pulled into a fierce line. “And promise you won’t leave the castle grounds again.”
I nodded, took the crisp linen, and hurried to my room.
~ ~ ~
I laid in bed trying to drift off to sleep but every floorboard creak, every one of Marlie’s sleep mumblings, and all the tiny rattles and scrapes that filled the otherwise quiet spaces of our room conspired against any hope of restful slumber.
To be fair, the noises weren’t the only things making me stare at the ceiling for those scant remaining hours before dawn. Fainting again at the wretched tree and those hours inexplicably lost would have been enough to keep me tossing and turning, but there was also Mr. Wyck. What was he doing out there? And when he touched me, why had there been no vision? I couldn’t think of a single reasonable explanation.
And wasn’t it convenient? Perhaps too convenient? A peek into his past could reveal whether he was the threat Mrs. Crossey feared, or if it was simply a strange—very strange—coincidence.
Not knowing was frustrating, to say the least.
The young man obviously thought himself clever, but the more I considered it as I tossed and turned in the darkest hours, the more convinced I was that our meeting on the Slopes was not a coincidence. He was up to something, and I meant to find out what.
~ ~ ~
At some point during the night, I’d given in to my exhaustion, but sleep had been anything but restful. Sometime before dawn I’d jolted awake with my heart racing and my back slicked with sweat. It took every ounce of control I had to catch my breath and remind myself it was only a dream. Yet it had been so clear. So real.
And I wasn’t ready to part with it.
I pulled the blanket to my cheeks, closed my eyes, and tried to return to that imagined place, recapture that strange euphoria.
I could feel it just out of reach. It was like the grove on the Slopes at first, but then, as the path led on, it changed. The night turned colder. Darker. Only the moon and the stars lighted my way. But I wasn’t scared. I was curious. Something was calling to me, coaxing me on. What was it? Who was it?
I pressed on through the shrubs and the trees until I came to a clearing and in that space stood a giant yew. The branches swayed in a breeze I couldn’t feel, and the trunk’s contours undulated to a rhythm I couldn’t hear. A tree that was terrifying yet wondrous. A tree beyond imagining. And I knew, with a strange conviction, that tree held answers.
Then it was gone.
Like the time I’d lost on the Slopes.
Yet something had changed.
I had gone to bed feeling helpless, but I wasn’t. Someone had been there who hadn’t suffered the same lapse. Someone who had answers.
I only had to ask.
But I would have to be quick if I was to collect the Queen’s firewood on time. When the early bells rang, calling the morning staff to their posts, I was already out of bed, washed, and dressed.
As silently as I could so I didn’t disturb Marlie, I hurried out in the morning’s half-light and made my way to the courtyard to search for my dragonfly.
“Are you here?” I whispered into the gray mist.
I watched the horizon and listened for her wings.
“I need you, dragonfly.”
The sound of the door opening behind me stopped me cold. I braced.
“What are you up to?”
It was Mr. MacDougall. Fear gripped me and my mind raced for an excuse. I latched on to the first one to come to mind. “Getting a bit of air, sir. I didn’t sleep well,