The Owls' Kiss

Chapter Two

"Miss Hallovale,

I am sorry to inform you that we cannot admit you into Bruinswick's Order of Scribes this spring. The admittance test for our School of Mastery is regrettably difficult for many up-and-coming students, and we realize that you may experience some disappointment in these results.

I appreciate how challenging it may be to understand why we could not accept your application. As we do each year, we made an effort to consider each candidate and their accomplishments throughout their younger years before applying for a Mastery. Your test results showcased that you have an exemplary understanding of record-keeping and are worthy of the Cloak.

Unfortunately, we have discovered an outside interference with your test results and regrettably must pull your application due to these unforeseen, inconclusive results at our founder's behest.

In truth, we have reason to believe that your results may have been tampered with, and we must inform you that we cannot accurately say that these answers are entirely yours. Our decisions are final, but we hope you may apply again after the Harvest and attend classes after the Flower Festival next spring.

This in no way disproves your intelligence and abilities going forward. Soon, may you be able to erase any disappointment we might have caused you and go on to great success in your Mastery.

Warm regards,"

Sorrel Hensby

Master Scribe of the III Order of Brunswick

Fauna, read that letter eight times. First, she thought he was playing a cruel joke on her and reread it for a good laugh. Then, as the words started to sink in and anger consumed her confusion, she realized that it was, in fact, not a joke but a sharp and painful betrayal that began to root in her stomach until she was choking down air to continue breathing.

Sorrel Hensby, the man of the hour, wrote her rejection letter. Fauna's fingers crumpled the parchment into a tightly compacted ball, and she threw it into the stovetop flame with a scream on her lips. Her fingers found her hair, and she pulled it until her scalp burned, breathing heavily as she attempted to calm herself.

Lillian wiped her hands on her apron and rounded the table to place a hand on Fauna's shoulder, a movement that was immediately shrugged off. Fauna's hands released her hair, and she turned her eyes to the older woman in the room. Her sister's gaze softened like she knew what Fauna had read. Expecting it.

Of course, how could she not when her betrothed was the one who wrote the letter. Fauna felt words bubble up to the tip of her tongue but swallowed them down until they scraped and clawed their way back up her throat, burning her mouth with a cry so hot it melted her tongue.

"You knew?" Fauna asked incredulously, "I have sat here for weeks, waiting, hoping, and you knew he had rejected me?" She rounded on Lillian, stepped into her space, and threw her hands into the air. "You've known this whole time?!"

Lillian closed her eyes, and a whisper-soft sigh blew from her lips. There was a moment of silence between the girls of Hallovale House before she bit her lip and spoke in a tone more geared towards a misguided child on the edge of a tantrum.

"He did not reject you, darlin'. He simply wrote what Elder Brunswick had requested. It hurt him to do that, more than you know." Lillian spoke, and the sisters stood facing each other in a moment of quietude before the door to the cottage creaked open. Sorrel trudged through the doorway holding firewood with Aspen in tow, their laughter dying when their gazes landed upon the two women inside the house. The smell of bread began to waft through the air, and Aspen breathed deeply as he discarded his boots by the door.