A Touch of Death

Chapter 2

Though Aoife's memories of when she first arrived at the house were clear, the memories of the following days had blurred with time. She remembered repeatedly refusing to allow anyone to help her dress her wounds, how she'd struggled with the bandages, and how Lizzie insisted that if she didn't want to be touched so badly, then she would get help without being touched.

She'd broken down in tears even as Lizzie carefully wound bandages around her arm, her fingers never grazing Aoife's skin.

Of course, it hadn't taken them long to discover her Mark, the physical manifestation of magic on her skin. It looked something like a silver tattoo running down her injured arm, and every Touched person had one. As the skin of her arm healed and grew back in place, so did the Mark, the pattern seemingly unaffected by the scar tissue. Aided by some freakish irony of the magic inside her, the wound healed completely within days after recovering her strength.

Initially, when the residents of the estate asked about her magic, she'd simply replied that it would be best if no one touched her. It had only taken a matter of months for some manner of the truth to come out, though.

And... they hadn't shunned her. They hadn't turned her away.

The few staff members who knew the full extent of her magic were kind enough to keep their mouths shut, to help shield her as much as they could. Perhaps five people in the estate knew, and they all protected her as one of their own in a way that Aoife never thought possible.

Every day here felt like a small miracle, existing in peace around people who didn't run at the sight of her or condemn her as a demon. In fact, the lady of the house specifically requested she stay as long as possible, as a competent House Healer was hard to hold down in this area of Quilland. Granted, the Lady Rimsilla only knew a little of Aoife's magic, but it was enough that someone else might have pushed her out for it.

Instead, Aoife found herself immersed in the daily life of the house, from chores to her own medical responsibilities.

The kitchen was all hustle and bustle when Aoife arrived downstairs, with Lizzie and her assistants rushing to pack breakfast in squares of cheesecloth for the staff to eat along the way to town. Lorna, the daughter of the head maid (and thus the child of the entire staff), was sitting in the corner with the leftover roses, weaving the stems into a crown. Her black hair glimmered in the morning sun, the long braid a sharp contrast to her pale yellow festival dress.]

"I'll take my breakfast to the shed, if you don't mind," Aoife said, grabbing one of the bundles of bread and cheese as she walked by the counter.

"Aoife!" Lorna cried, looking up from her flowers with a smile.

"Good morning, sweetie." She smiled softly, blowing a kiss towards the little girl, who giggled and blew one back. It had taken a long while to impress upon the child that she couldn't touch Aoife, but they had since developed a kind of affectionate communication all their own.

"You said you would go to the festival with us!" the little girl whined. "No hiding in the shed today."

"I will, just like I promised, but I have to get a few things from the workshop first."

"Don't let the Faeries get you!" Lorna giggled. Lizzie frowned, shaking her head.

"That's nothing to joke about, child," she muttered.

"I'll be fine," Aoife said reassuringly. "Besides, I don't think the Fae would come this far out of their territory. We're still well inside human lands."

"That may be true," Lizzie said, waving a spoon absently over a pot of oatmeal, "but you've heard as many tales as I of the Grand Enchanter having to go and fish someone out of the Fae forest. He's never happy about it."