Illusions of Fate

But I can’t help feeling that perhaps I was.

I do not even have Sir Bird here as a comfort, and I refuse to write Finn merely about seeing my bird. I sit, defeated, at the small dressing table and shuffle the deck of cards for the hundredth time. I cut the deck and mix it, my fingers now adept where seven days ago they fumbled through it. I close my

eyes and draw a card at random.

FATE.

I always draw FATE.

But fate is a slippery thing, is it not? After all, had Ma’ati and Jacky Boy not left Melei and traveled separately to a new life here, they never would have met. They would have missed each other and their supreme happiness.

Wouldn’t they have? If they’re fated to be together and one of them had stayed, would they have ever met? Or would they have found someone else who made them smile on the grayest days?

Consider Kelen. Had we both stayed on the island, we might have continued our summer of fast-beating hearts and stolen kisses. Perhaps we would be engaged now, against Mama’s wishes.

I could take it as a sign of fate that, against all odds, we were reunited here.

But Finn. If I had stayed on the thoroughfare that day, not taken the alley, I would never have met him. The thought of never knowing him bothers me, leaves me feeling restless and aching.

I trace my finger down the card, on the length of dark path stretching into the trees. Paths do not only go one way. We choose which direction to take. I refuse to believe that any outside forces can determine the course of my life.

Certainly I have been drawn into something bigger than myself, made a pawn in a game spanning centuries of families unrelated to my own. But I still choose which direction to take, just as Finn chooses, and even that horrible nightmare man Lord Downpike chooses. None of us are without options.

Ernest is right. I’ve been making choices, but I haven’t been deliberate or thoughtful about them. I’ve pretended that my actions influence only myself. They don’t.

I shuffle one last time. Cut the deck. Close my eyes and spread the cards across the table. I know before I open my eyes which card I have drawn.

FATE.

“Augh!” I knock the cards to the ground. I must get out of this blasted room.

I hurry out and down the servants’ stairs. When I get to the back hall I find the way blocked by all the hotel employees, crowding around, trying to see over one another.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

One of the chambermaids gives me a pinched and sour glare. “None of your business, milady.”

I push past her and run into Simon going the other way. His eyes are wide. “It’s Ma’ati! She’s hurt!”

Heart in my throat, I force my way through, not caring who I step on or elbow until I burst through into Ma’ati’s room. She’s crying silently, sitting on the edge of her bed while Jacky Boy tenderly cleans her arms. They’re covered in cuts and slices like tallies in a ledger. Her face has several long, seeping slits as well.

“What happened?” I kneel at her bedside, grabbing a cloth to help.

“Birds.” She closes her eyes, her face pale with shock. “I went out for vegetables and a whole flock of birds flew down at me. I couldn’t get away. It was like being caught in a storm—they were all around—”

“Shh.” Jacky Boy strokes her hair. “It’s all right. Simon’s gone for the doctor. I’m here now.”

I rock back on my heels, numb and cold with despair. This is my fault, for not choosing a direction. I stood in the middle of the path and threw a tantrum because I did not want to be there. And because of my stubborn denial, first Eleanor and now Ma’ati have been hurt.

“Jacabo.” I pull him to the side as he stands to get a clean cloth. “You need to take the position from Lord Ackerly. Immediately. Go tonight, and take Ma’ati with you. It isn’t safe here.”

He frowns, narrowing his eyes. “What do you know that you aren’t telling me?”

“He will be a good employer and you’ll be happy and safe. Promise me you’ll go.”

“He hasn’t written for me yet.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’ll understand.”