ㅤ
The girl stopped in the middle of the academy courtyard so abruptly that my arm pulled back with hers.
ㅤ
I looked down, expecting a dropped toy or an untied shoe.
ㅤ
“What's wrong?”
ㅤ
She wasn't looking at me.
ㅤ
Across the courtyard, Evelyn von Rosenfeld stood beneath a tree, speaking with another student. Her silver hair was loose today, and she held a folder against her chest.
ㅤ
“Mommy,” the girl whispered. Her fingers tightened around mine.
ㅤ
I followed her gaze.
ㅤ
“Oh.”
ㅤ
I had prepared explanations for an eventual meeting. None of them were useful in the middle of a courtyard.
ㅤ
“Can we say hello?”
ㅤ
“Not right now.”
ㅤ
“Why?”
ㅤ
I searched for an answer that wasn't another excuse.
ㅤ
“Because she doesn't know about you yet. We talked about this.”
ㅤ
“But she knows you.”
ㅤ
“Yes.”
ㅤ
“And you know me.”
ㅤ
“Also yes.”
ㅤ
The girl looked between us, trying to find the missing piece.
ㅤ
“Then you can tell her.”
ㅤ
I crouched beside her. Students passed close enough to overhear us, and Evelyn was still occupied with her conversation.
ㅤ
“I will. But I need to speak with her somewhere quiet first.”
ㅤ
“Can I come?”
ㅤ
I hesitated.
ㅤ
“I think you should. We need to decide how to do it.”
ㅤ
She studied my face, searching for something more definite than the answers I had given her all week, then nodded.
ㅤ
“Okay.”
ㅤ
When we started walking again, she looked over her shoulder.
ㅤ
“Bye, Mommy.”
ㅤ
It was barely audible.
ㅤ
I heard it anyway.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
The academy was holding an exhibition for its practical departments. Marcus had mentioned it at breakfast and insisted that the girl would enjoy seeing the demonstrations.
ㅤ
Mrs. Fenwick had an appointment that afternoon, and Marcus was helping the martial department prepare its display. I could either miss the exhibition or bring the girl with me.
ㅤ
I'd chosen to bring her.
ㅤ
That decision had seemed perfectly reasonable until she'd spotted Evelyn.
ㅤ
“Daddy, look!”
ㅤ
A mechanical bird was flying in circles above an enchantment stall. Its wings were made of thin copper plates, and a small crystal glowed beneath its chest.
ㅤ
We approached the table. The student operating it looked relieved to have an interested audience.
ㅤ
“It follows a fixed sequence,” he explained. “Six turns, then it returns to the perch.”
ㅤ
“Can it sing?” the girl asked.
ㅤ
“Not yet.”
ㅤ
“Why?”
ㅤ
The student looked at the bird.
ㅤ
“I haven't designed that part.”
ㅤ
She considered this.
ㅤ
“Birds should sing.”
ㅤ
“I'll keep that in mind.”
ㅤ
We stayed until the bird completed three more flights. By the time we left, its creator had begun sketching something on the back of his demonstration notes.
ㅤ
I suspected he'd just acquired another week's work. the girl waved goodbye to the bird before we moved on.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
We found Marcus near the martial department's practice area. He was wearing protective gloves and carrying a wooden sword.
ㅤ
“Uncle Marcus!”
ㅤ
He turned and caught the girl when she ran to him.
ㅤ
“There you are. Did you come to watch me?”
ㅤ
“Yes!”
ㅤ
“She came for the honey cakes,” I said.
ㅤ
“That too.”
ㅤ
Marcus laughed and set her down.
ㅤ
The demonstration involved students defending against a series of controlled strikes. Marcus showed her the padded training weapons and explained why everyone wore protective equipment.
ㅤ
“Daddy doesn't use a sword,” she observed.
ㅤ
“No,” Marcus said. “He's a mage.”
ㅤ
“Daddy uses magic. Mommy uses lots more.”
ㅤ
Marcus glanced at me.
ㅤ
I gave him a warning look.
ㅤ
He raised his free hand.
ㅤ
“I didn't ask.”
ㅤ
“Your face did.”
ㅤ
The girl was already examining a practice shield, fortunately more interested in its size than our conversation.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
After the demonstration, we bought honey cakes and found a bench near the exhibition hall.
ㅤ
Marcus leaned against the railing while the girl ate hers in careful bites, trying not to drip honey onto Sir Flopsy.
ㅤ
“How's the work with Lady Rosenfeld?” he asked quietly.
ㅤ
“Good. We improved the barrier's stability.”
ㅤ
“I meant the two of you.”
ㅤ
“We improved the barrier's stability.”
ㅤ
“Right.”
ㅤ
He took a bite of his cake.
ㅤ
“Has she met the little one?”
ㅤ
“No.”
ㅤ
“Are you going to tell her?”
ㅤ
I watched the girl turn her cake so the sticky side faced away from her rabbit.
ㅤ
“Yes. I just haven't decided how.”
ㅤ
Marcus waited.
ㅤ
“I don't know what happened in the future,” I continued. “I don't know how the spell worked, or whether whoever sent her here can do it again. And Evelyn has a family with enough influence to make this complicated very quickly.”
ㅤ
“Those are reasons to be careful.”
ㅤ
“I know.”
ㅤ
“But?”
ㅤ
I looked at him.
ㅤ
“The girl saw Evelyn this morning. I asked her not to go over.”
ㅤ
Marcus followed my gaze to the bench.
ㅤ
“She listened?”
ㅤ
“Yes.”
ㅤ
“That must have been difficult.”
ㅤ
I hadn't expected him to put it quite that way. I had been thinking about the risks of telling Evelyn. Marcus had noticed what waiting was costing the girl.
ㅤ
Before I could answer, his expression changed.
ㅤ
“Adrian.”
ㅤ
“What?”
ㅤ
“Don't turn around too quickly.”
ㅤ
Naturally, I turned around.
ㅤ
Evelyn was approaching us.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
“Adrian.”
ㅤ
“Lady Rosenfeld.”
ㅤ
She stopped beside the bench.
ㅤ
“Halden said you might be at the exhibition.”
ㅤ
“He did?”
ㅤ
“He wants us to review the third-spell configuration before tomorrow.”
ㅤ
“Of course he does.”
ㅤ
I reached into my bag for the notes, then remembered who was sitting beside me.
ㅤ
“Daddy?”
ㅤ
Evelyn's gaze shifted.
ㅤ
The girl had looked up from her honey cake. She held it forgotten in both hands, staring at Evelyn as though the noise of the exhibition had fallen away.
ㅤ
“Mom—”
ㅤ
“Sweetheart,” I said, crouching beside her, “you've got honey on your sleeve.”
ㅤ
She blinked at me.
ㅤ
I held out my handkerchief.
ㅤ
For a moment, she didn't move. Her mouth pressed shut around the word she had almost said. Then she looked down.
ㅤ
“Oh.”
ㅤ
I cleaned the small patch of honey while Marcus became unusually interested in the exhibition banners.
ㅤ
Evelyn waited.
ㅤ
“Is this the relative you mentioned?”
ㅤ
“Yes.”
ㅤ
“The one you bought the ribbon for?”
ㅤ
The girl brightened and turned her head to show it.
ㅤ
“Look!”
ㅤ
Evelyn examined the pale blue ribbon.
ㅤ
“It suits you.”
ㅤ
The girl went still.
ㅤ
Then, very quietly, she said, “Thank you.”
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
Evelyn crouched to speak to her.
ㅤ
“Did Adrian manage to put it on properly?”
ㅤ
“Mrs. Fenwick helped.”
ㅤ
“A sensible decision.”
ㅤ
I looked at Evelyn.
ㅤ
“I'm standing right here.”
ㅤ
“I noticed.”
ㅤ
The girl giggled. Then she hugged Sir Flopsy and looked at Evelyn again.
ㅤ
“Your hair is pretty.”
ㅤ
“Thank you.”
ㅤ
“And your eyes.”
ㅤ
Evelyn's expression softened, but her attention settled more carefully on the girl's face.
ㅤ
The resemblance wasn't complete. The girl had dark hair like mine, and her features were still those of a child.
ㅤ
Her eyes, however, were unmistakable.
ㅤ
Evelyn glanced at me.
ㅤ
I pretended to be occupied with the handkerchief.
ㅤ
“What's your name?” she asked the girl.
ㅤ
The girl opened her mouth, then stopped.
ㅤ
She looked at me.
ㅤ
My stomach tightened.
ㅤ
I still didn't know her first name. She'd said she wasn't supposed to tell me yet, and I'd respected that.
ㅤ
“I'm not supposed to tell everyone,” she said.
ㅤ
Evelyn paused.
ㅤ
“Is that so?”
ㅤ
The girl nodded.
ㅤ
“All right.”
ㅤ
Evelyn pointed to the rabbit instead.
ㅤ
“Does he have a name?”
ㅤ
“Sir Flopsy.”
ㅤ
“A distinguished name.”
ㅤ
Marcus made a noise that might have been a cough.
ㅤ
The girl laughed, and some of the tension left her shoulders.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
We moved to an empty table beside the exhibition hall. Marcus offered to show the girl a wooden puzzle he'd bought from a nearby stall while Evelyn and I reviewed the diagrams.
ㅤ
I tried to concentrate.
ㅤ
The first channel was sound. So was the second. The third would require a new measurement sequence, but I could barely follow the explanation because the girl kept glancing toward Evelyn.
ㅤ
Every time Evelyn spoke, the girl looked up.
ㅤ
Not with the curiosity she'd shown toward the mechanical bird. She listened as though she were afraid of missing a word.
ㅤ
“Adrian.”
ㅤ
I looked at Evelyn.
ㅤ
“Yes?”
ㅤ
“You're reading the wrong page.”
ㅤ
“Sorry.”
ㅤ
She studied me.
ㅤ
“Are you unwell?”
ㅤ
“No. Distracted.”
ㅤ
“By something I should know about?”
ㅤ
I glanced toward the girl before I could stop myself.
ㅤ
Evelyn noticed.
ㅤ
“We can finish this tomorrow,” she said.
ㅤ
“That might be better.”
ㅤ
She closed her notebook without complaint.
ㅤ
I should have been relieved. Instead, I felt worse.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
Evelyn stood.
ㅤ
The girl immediately looked up.
ㅤ
“Are you leaving?”
ㅤ
“I have another appointment.”
ㅤ
“Oh.”
ㅤ
The girl's shoulders dropped. The disappointment in that single word made Evelyn pause.
ㅤ
“Did you need something?”
ㅤ
The girl hugged Sir Flopsy.
ㅤ
“No.”
ㅤ
Evelyn crouched again.
ㅤ
“Perhaps we'll see each other at another exhibition.”
ㅤ
“Really?”
ㅤ
“If Adrian brings you.”
ㅤ
The girl turned to me.
ㅤ
“We'll talk about it,” I said.
ㅤ
She smiled, but Evelyn hadn't finished looking at her.
ㅤ
“Your eyes,” she said.
ㅤ
The girl tilted her head.
ㅤ
“What about them?”
ㅤ
“They're an unusual color.”
ㅤ
“Just like—”
ㅤ
“Lady Rosenfeld's,” Marcus said.
ㅤ
We all looked at him.
ㅤ
He shrugged.
ㅤ
“I noticed it too.”
ㅤ
Evelyn's gaze moved from the girl to Marcus, then to me.
ㅤ
“Yes,” she said. “They are.”
ㅤ
She didn't sound convinced that the resemblance was a coincidence.
ㅤ
I wasn't sure what frightened me more: that she'd noticed, or that I'd tried so hard to keep her from noticing.
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
After Evelyn left, the girl stayed on the bench until she'd disappeared into the exhibition hall.
ㅤ
Then she turned to me.
ㅤ
“Daddy?”
ㅤ
“Yes?”
ㅤ
“Did I do good?”
ㅤ
I crouched in front of her.
ㅤ
“You did.”
ㅤ
“Even when I almost said Mommy?”
ㅤ
“Yes.”
ㅤ
She nodded, but her mouth trembled as she tried to hold it steady.
ㅤ
“But I wanted to hug her.”
ㅤ
I reached for her, and she climbed into my arms.
ㅤ
“I know, sweetheart.”
ㅤ
“She was right there.”
ㅤ
“I know.”
ㅤ
“I didn't even get to tell her about Sir Flopsy's cloak.”
ㅤ
Her voice broke on the last word. Tears gathered in her eyes before she could look away.
ㅤ
Marcus gathered our bags and moved a little way down the path, giving us space.
ㅤ
I held her while she cried against my shoulder. I couldn't promise that Evelyn would recognize her. I couldn't even promise that the conversation would go well.
ㅤ
But I could stop asking a six-year-old to carry all of my uncertainty for me.
ㅤ
When she was ready, I wiped her face with the clean side of my handkerchief.
ㅤ
“I'm going to speak with her.”
ㅤ
The girl looked at me.
ㅤ
“Tomorrow?”
ㅤ
“Yes.”
ㅤ
“Can I come?”
ㅤ
“Not for the first part. I need to explain what's happened. Then, if she's willing, we'll speak to her together.”
ㅤ
She thought about that.
ㅤ
“Will you tell her I miss her?”
ㅤ
My throat tightened.
ㅤ
“Yes.”
ㅤ
***
ㅤ
That night, after the girl fell asleep, I took the damaged letter from its hiding place.
ㅤ
The surviving words were still there.
ㅤ
Find Adrian.
ㅤ
Academy.
ㅤ
Do not leave her alone.
ㅤ
Trust him.
ㅤ
I'd read them often enough to know every stain and torn edge. The words didn't tell me how Evelyn would react, or whether the woman who'd sent the girl here had expected me to approach her younger self.
ㅤ
I looked at the drawing beside the bed.
ㅤ
Three people. A house. A garden.
ㅤ
My daughter had been here for days. I had good reasons for being careful, but I had begun treating the most important person in her memories like a problem to solve before I could introduce them.
ㅤ
I put the letter away and opened my notebook.
ㅤ
Tomorrow, I would ask Evelyn to speak privately after our session. I'd tell her that a child had arrived through an unfamiliar spell, carrying a letter that appeared to be from the future.
ㅤ
I would tell her why the girl believed she knew us.
ㅤ
And if Evelyn demanded proof, I would give her what I had without pretending it answered every question.
ㅤ
I checked the girl's blanket before turning down the lamp.
ㅤ
The girl was asleep with Sir Flopsy tucked beneath her chin, the blue ribbon resting on the bedside table.
ㅤ
Tomorrow wouldn't be easy.
ㅤ
I had no idea how to make it easy.
ㅤ
But I knew what I had to do.