The Amaranth Enchantment by Julie Berry Read Free Book Online Page A

name?"
    She laughed a little. "I know many things, but that took no... magic, as you might want to call it." She smiled a wry smile. "You're the exact image of your mother. There are several paintings of her here."
    It was all I could do not to jump up and go searching for them. They'd be easier to see in the morning, I told myself.
    "I'd heard about a daughter who was sent to live with relatives," she went on.
    "I often wondered what became of her. When I saw you in the shop, I was pretty sure I'd found my answer. When you showed up at my door, I was certain."
    How could a painting of Mama tell her who I was? I didn't look much like Mama, so far as I could tell. "You didn't look happy there," she said.
    This puzzled me. "Is that why you spoke for me? Because you pitied me?"
    She watched me for a moment. I became conscious of 63
    the wind whistling through the open windows, and a night bird calling off in the trees beyond the lawns.
    "What is your given name?" she asked softly.
    It seemed as though I was bound to never get a straight answer from her. Yet something made me trust her, made me willing to reveal my name.
    "Lucinda," I said.
    "Should I pity you, Lucinda?" she asked.
    I sat very still, feeling pricked by her question. Perhaps I pitied myself, but I didn't need her to.
    "No."
    She nodded her head, as if my answer pleased her. "And yet," she said, "you have bruises on your face that weren't there yesterday."
    I hadn't known they showed.
    "Was it your aunt?"
    There was no need to answer.
    I was startled to see the great sadness written on her face. She rose from her chair and approached mine.
    "May I?" she said. She knelt before me and slowly placed her hands over my eyes and cheeks. Her hands were cool, the skin taut and fine over hard muscles and bones. At her touch, the wounds stung and burned, until a sweet numbness came over them. She pressed more firmly, then removed her hands.
    My breath came fast and heavy. I patted my face. It was warm, no longer numb or hurt.
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    "Are the bruises gone?" I asked.
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    She nodded.
    I couldn't believe what had just happened. Who was she? "Thank you," I said, not without some fear.
    "You are welcome."
    "Is this why they call you Amaranth?" I said. "You can heal yourself, so you don't seem to get older?"
    She smiled. "I chose the name, actually. It seemed to fit. I loved the flower because it reminded me of home. I called myself Amaranth in a town where I lived for a time, and the name stuck when I traveled here."
    I tried to gather together the things I knew, or thought I knew, about her.
    What else had Father Julian said? "Did you really curse the queen when she was expecting a child?"
    She sagged in her chair. "The only person I've ever cursed is myself. No," she said suddenly, "I must amend that. There are two others. But neither of them was the queen. She was simply unlucky."
    I sat, wondering how she could have cursed herself. Her words interrupted my thoughts.
    "I told your aunt that I was looking for a servant," Beryl said, "but that was not quite true. I am looking for help of a different kind, and when I saw you, I felt you could be just the person I needed." She stroked her fingertips across her collarbone, as if searching for something that wasn't there.
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    "I don't know how I could help you, unless you want your floors scrubbed.
    You're... well, if you're not a witch, you're something. There's nothing I could do that you could not."
    She sat silently. I waited for her to say something. I'd nearly given up when she spoke.
    "Do you know what it's like to be alone, Lucinda?" This question wasn't what I'd been expecting. It made me stop and consider.
    "I've been alone since my parents died, mostly," I said. "Uncle was good to me, but Aunt made it hard for both of us. I've never had friends to speak of."
    She leaned forward in her chair, gripping the armrests. "That makes two of us, utterly