As if confirming it, the magically shimmering kestrel gave a small cheep. Taking that as permission, Thorn led the way into the cottage.
17
Rose followed Thorn into the tiny cottage. Charming, with its gingerbread eaves and multipaned windows, but small and oh so rustic. She imagined in the summertime, with the garden in full bloom, it was a lovely retreat. Still, so remote, here in the middle of the Aswad Woods. It was nothing short of a miracle—or some sorcerous or other conspiratorial coincidence, which Rose hadn’t yet ruled out—that Sebastien had happened past here.
Leaving Sebastien still in deep sleep and dreaming perhaps a little easier, Rose had dressed to the nines to meet her potentially evil twin, prepared for a magical duel or possibly a trap. She hadn’t been at all sure what she’d find, as the possibility for trickery still existed. Still, she hadn’t expected this awkward, painfully earnest, completely unvarnished girl of a woman. Nor had she unexpected the deep feeling of recognition. Thorn was Lily, no doubt remained in Rose’s mind.
And meeting this twin of hers unbalanced Rose far more than she could have predicted.
Looking at Thorn was like looking in a mirror, albeit of the antique variety that introduced subtle distortions. Thorn possessed a luminous health that no doubt came of country living, or perhaps that mythical creature, the clean conscience. For, though Thorn had committed serious crimes, she’d somehow done so without criminal intent.
And Rose had no idea what to do now. Beneath all her other tumult of emotions and indecision boiled a steady rage at her parents. Surely they knew about Thorn. They had to. Butwhy… Rose couldn’t think about it rationally yet.
“Um, have a seat,” Thorn said, gesturing to the two wooden chairs on either side of a well-worn kitchen table, wiping her eyes, her nose red and dripping from her tears. She didn’t think Thorn was acting, either. She seemed far too artless for that.
“Please, take a moment to compose yourself,” Rose said, feeling more and more like a monster who kicked kittens for fun. When Thorn stared at her, clearly bewildered, she added, “Blow your nose, wash your face, and so forth. Go. I can wait.”
Thorn nodded, started to leave the room, but hesitated, perhaps ill at ease with leaving Rose unsupervised in her home. At least she wasn’t a complete idiot. “I’ll abide by guest rules,” Rose told her. “That means I promise to do you no harm while I’m here and you promise me the same.”
“Oh,” Thorn said, her voice watery. “I’d never heard of that.”
Rose suspected there were a great many things Thorn had never heard of. During Thorn’s absence, Rose took stock of the place. She wouldn’t violate guest rules by poking into anything—or even leaving her chair—but she could observe a great deal from where she sat.
Her impression of the exterior continued to hold true. Small, but charming. The many windows looked onto the garden, bringing in light, the forbidding forest with its dense shadows a comfortable distance away. Bread rose on the counter under a cloth, near a magically fueled oven. Now that was interesting—a fairly expensive magical convenience for an otherwise plebeian setup.
As she scrutinized the kitchen, she identified other conveniences, such as one would find in a much wealthier household. One more riddle on top of the fundamental one: How had her supposedly deceased twin ended up here, alive, if not terribly well?
When Thorn returned, more quickly than Rose expected, she’d changed her clothes and brushed her hair, rebraiding it instead of leaving it loose. Her garments were clean, but worn.In fact, if Rose squinted, the simple gown reminded her of the fashions from a decade or more before, though stripped of embellishments.
“Do you live here alone?” Rose asked, needing answers, but also to help the clearly nervous girl relax.
“Yes,” Thorn answered. “Well, no. Not exactly.” She knotted her newly cleaned fingers together. “It’s kind of a story.”
“Perhaps you can tell it to me over tea,” Rose suggested, not unkindly. Thorn was awfully timid for someone who’d brazenly committed the level of destruction ascribed to her by rumor.
Thorn at least stopped hovering uncertainly in the doorway as if Rose might attack at any moment, and slipped into the kitchen, making a wider-than-necessary circle around Rose. That’s what Rose got for kicking the kitten, she supposed. Thorn lit a fire under the teakettle. She used magic to do it, Rose noted, unselfconsciously employing the simple trick that came easily to most magic-workers, but was hardly common outside that rarefied circle.
“I should’ve put the kettle on before I went to change clothes,” Thorn said, turning back to Rose, her face a picture of anxiety in an expression Rose doubted her own face had ever worn. “I didn’t think and now you have to wait for your tea.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” Rose said mildly. “Why don’t you sit while we wait for the water to boil?”
“I should put the bread in the oven…”
“Would you be more comfortable being busy while we chat?” Rose asked. “Rather than having to sit.”
“Yes.” Thorn nearly sagged with relief, her smile going brilliant, reminding Rose unexpectedly of Sebastien and his easy happiness. “How did you know?”
“I do, too, and we’re apparently the same person,” Rose answered wryly. She felt world-weary and far too cynical compared to this unspoiled ray of sunshine.
“Arewe the same person?” Thorn asked, eyes wide over hershoulder where she readied the bread dough by apparently punching it. Rose thought it might be an expression of upset, but Thorn seemed practiced and peaceful at the task. What Rose didn’t know about baking bread could fill a bucket.
“I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but I can tell you that I believe we are identical twins, separated at birth.”
“Twins?” Thorn echoed, clearly astonished, her gaze roving over Rose in patent disbelief.
“Surely you’re aware of the concept.” Rose was being too sarcastic, but she clung to that dry humor anyway.
“Yes. Of course,” Thorn hastened to add. “I’m not wholly uneducated. Just surprised. And… this is a lot to absorb.”
