The Lure

I heaved the last trunk over the lip of the top step, staggering back with it before dropping it to the ground. I sank onto a loose cushion nearby, gasping for breath as I surveyed the damage: crates and trunks scattered across the suite, loose items draped over every bit of furniture, which was just about all askew.

“Don’t overexert yourself. The last thing you need is to fall ill again.” My mother warned from the bottom of the stairs.

“I feel fine.” I replied, leaning back against the pile behind me and tilting my head to look up through the window in the ceiling. A skylight, the seller had called it. Sunlight filtered through the colored glass, dancing across my vision in bright whorls. Maybe one day I could dance like that again.

I sat for a few minutes, enjoying the peace as I rested my still-healing body. Then I slowly got up and began to arrange and unpack my suite. First, necessities. Toiletries, specifically. Towels. Bedding. Clothes. A longer break. A maid brought up a tray of iced water with fruit and cheese, which I accepted gratefully.

“Miss, pardon me for saying so, but you really shouldn’t be doing all this alone.” She was new, and wrung her hands in front of her. “The lady said doctor’s orders an’ all.”

I waved a hand in the air, a strawberry held between my fingers. “I’m fine…what’s your name?”

“Elise, if it please you, miss.” She curtsied.

“Elise.” I smiled. “I’m not a princess, nor am I truly a noble. You need not bow and scrape.” She startled, and I held up my strawberry again. “If you can manage to drop the formalities, you may help me finish my task. Deal?”

She hesitated, a small smile breaking across her face. “Very well.” She said quietly, and immediately set to work straightening blankets, pillows, and cushions in the sitting room.

After the seating was all arranged, I got up and sat on one side of the couch, gesturing for Elise to join me. “We can start on the books now.”

She helped me heave the heavy chests over between the couch and the bookshelves built into the walls, and we knelt on the floor and each opened a chest.

“How would you like these organized?” she asked.

“By author. When applicable, of course I’d like for the series to be in order. Left to right.” I told her absently, pulling books out of my chest by the handful. “It’s going to take a while…if you have other tasks, feel free to leave and attend to them. You will be welcome back.” I smiled, glancing at her quickly before returning to the title in my hands.

Elise glanced at the clock chiming on the mantel. “I should go check on a few things. I will return in about an hour.”

“Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Only if you promise me the same, miss.” I looked up just in time to catch her smile.

“Alayna.” I corrected her. “My name is Alayna.”

“Alayna, then.” She hesitated, hands clenched in her skirts as if resisting the urge to curtsy again, before ducking out the door and down the staircase beyond.

She had potential.

I buried myself back into my task, sorting books into piles and onto shelves. I cleared the first chest pretty quickly, and took a break to eat some cheese off the platter Elise had left. I returned, wiping my hands on my skirt despite my mother’s distaste for the habit, and knelt before a second chest. I made it about halfway through that one before picking up a tattered journal I’d never seen before. I flipped through it. The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Perhaps I’d bought a historical journal while I’d been…unwell, according to my parents.

I opened it to the first page and started reading.

It started innocently enough. It was addressed as a diary, written with things like you will understand one day, which, okay, directed to a diary, was a little weird, but people were weird–that much had always been historically accurate.

The diary described a young woman’s life where she felt caged. Trapped. Like I did whenever I was forced to take up my family duties. My heart twisted for her as she wrote of her looming engagement with–at best–distaste. At worst…she hoped to fall ill and only recover when the threat of marriage had passed. Much like…I had.

A soft knock sounded at the door. “Alayna?”

Elise had returned.

“Come in!” I called, hastily setting the journal aside.

We ended up only making it through about half my books, but it was a fun evening filled with laughter and treats that Elise snuck up from the kitchens. Unfortunately, she was determined to be as strict as my mother about the doctor’s orders–so no wine made its way up my staircase that night.

“I should get to bed.” Elise said at last, pushing a few stray strands of light brown hair from her face. “I must be up early tomorrow to help with the chores.”

“Go on.” I smiled at her. “Thank you for all your help.”

“Of course, mi–Alayna.” She returned my smile. “I rather enjoyed the time.” She straightened the corner we’d been working in just a bit, gathered up the little platters of snacks and treats, and gave me one last smile on her way out the door. “You should get some rest too. Good night.”

“I will…good night.” I replied, watching the carved wooden door swing shut behind her.

I readied myself for bed, hesitating as I passed through the sitting room one last time to turn out the lights. I shook my head at myself as I scooped up the journal. A bit of bedtime reading had never truly hurt me–only left me somewhat tired the next day. Lying in bed counted as resting, I reasoned as I closed the bedroom door behind me and crossed over to flop onto my bed. I left the bedside light on, sliding under the blankets and settling back comfortably against the pillows before opening the journal to where I’d left off.

It turned readily from a rather realistic journal of a life of a girl–woman–much similar to my own…to something horrible, then to something fantastical, full of death and loss and grief…and the discovery of a world beyond the borders of my parents’ nation. A world full of intriguing characters and mystical creatures. One where the woman–like–me could do anything, be anything.

Her journey…her loss, started the first night in her family’s new home in the country estate, just like I was now. I glanced at how many pages were left, frowning. There seemed too few to wrap up her story in a satisfactory way.

The next page I turned confirmed it. She was faced with a choice…her new world, or to revive the world she’d lost that night that seemed so long ago.

And the next page was blank…save for a signature.

This was the diary of Alayna Trimble.