A Wish Made Of Glass by Ashlee Willis Read Free Book Online Page B

With a hiss, the covers fall from me and the cool night air brushes my skin. Something moves across the room in the shadows near the door. My heart trips as I remember the time the fey woman visited me once before on just such a night as this.
    With a light step, a figure emerges into the wash of moonlight, and I see it is no fey creature, but Blessing. Her long nightgown whispers against the floorboards. Her golden curls are so beautiful that the moonlight reaches greedy fingers to grasp at them and turns them pale as hoarfrost. She wastes no time getting straight to the heart of her visit.
    “Isidore, let us be friends again.” The catch in her voice tells me she is choking on tears already.
    I peer at her, too shocked to speak. Of all things, I did not expect this. She sees my hesitation and takes advantage of it. Quick as thought, she is at my bedside and my hand is within hers.
    “Please. I am so alone, Iz, and I know you are, too.”
    For a moment, hope pushes at the walls of my heart. It is no more than the green knot on a winter branch, the promise of what will one day be a leaf.
    Without warning, disgust sweeps down on that hope and chases it straight into the jaws of bitterness. I watch as its tender shoot is snapped to nothing.
    I fling her hand from me like it is poisoned. I want to forget, but I cannot. I want to put everything behind us and be the sisters we truly are, but it is beyond me. It is too late. Has thisnot been proven enough? Hatred swells, strong as a riptide in my breast, and it is all I can do to get the next words out. The force of the past three years is in them.
    “You took him from me.”
    “What?”
    I swallow and try again. “You took Father from me.”
    Blessing cringes from the venom in my voice. Then she slowly lifts her chin and I know she is digging in her heels for this fight. “I didn’t. It was you who turned from both of us. We beseeched you. I know you’ve not forgotten, so it’s no use looking so shocked. We were as groveling as dogs, Father and Mother and I, begging for your love these past years. And you gave us nothing but coldness in return.”
    Her words are a knifepoint directed straight at my heart, and her aim proves pure and true. Fire flares beneath the surface of my skin. My cheeks are aflame. How does Blessing dare to argue about this? How can she compare her sorrow to mine?
    I fling the covers aside and leap out of bed. Cold stings my bare feet as they hit the floor. Blessing skitters backward like a wary animal when she sees the fury in my eyes. As she does, her heel hits the bucket of ashes near the hearth. She flings her hands out and twists gracelessly sideways. With her arms at an awkward angle, she cannot catch herself, and goes sprawling. I hear the dull crack as her head hits the hearthstone. My stomach turns.
    In the next moment, I am by her side. Already dark blood is pooling on the floor beneath her head. My hands flutter like ineffectual birds over the surface of her pale face. The overturned bucket is nearby and ashes hover like a cloud around me. Everything is covered in their fine, choking dust. Blessing’s beautiful hair is caked with them. They have settled like murky snowflakes on her lashes.
    “Blessing.” I breathe her name like a charm that will make her eyes open, but it does not work.
    “What’s all this?” Hazel’s voice comes from the doorway. Her silver brows are drawn together. Her gaze travels down to take in Blessing’s form on the floor. Suddenly a terrible fear is written in the deep shadows of her face.
    “Isidore, how did this happen?”
    At first I do not understand her meaning. In the next moment I reel, for her words smack of accusation.
    “You cannot think I did this?” I say. “She fell. She tripped. I didn’t touch her.” Our prattle is taking too long. “Hazel, she’s injured—bleeding! Something must be done!”
    Hazel nods. She believes me. She kneels upon the floor and lifts Blessing’s head gently.