The Secret of Dreadwillow Carse Read Online Free PDF Page A

purple ribbon, making the garland shimmer.
    â€œIt’s beautiful!” her father declared. “You’ve outdone yourself this year, rose blossom.”
    Aon looked sharply down at her father, whose eyes immediately darted the other way. Rose blossom. The nickname her mother had given Aon. He hadn’t used it for three years. It was the smallest of slips, yet it told Aon so much. Somewhere deep under his ever-present smile, in some place his mind reserved for the oldest of dreams, her father still remembered.
    Now, as he busied himself with the next garland, Aon’s heart ached to pose the questions that had gone unanswered for years.
    Do you miss Mother?
    How often do you think of her?
    If you could speak to her one more time, what would you say?
    Aon had her own answers to these questions, so many answers that all she wanted to do was say them out loud to someone who could help her understand them. But it would never happen. It would mean talking about her mother. And no one, anywhere, did that. Ever.
    There were times—like this—when Aon wondered if everyone’s happiness was really a mask. Was it possible the other people of the land could feel all the emotions she felt—the grief, the anger—and hid them in the name of pleasing their monarch?
    But these slips—when people were on the verge of remembering someone’s absence or expressing a feeling other than joy—only ever lasted a moment, until the twinkle in their eyes returned, vanquishing unpleasant thoughts.
    No. Aon was the only one who felt this way. She was the only one who was broken.
    â€œCome on,” Aon’s father boomed merrily. “We’ve got twelve more to hang before the Crimson Hoods arrive.”
    Aon did as she was told. And she smiled.
    THE SUN WAS but a sliver disappearing behind the mountains when the Crimson Hoods arrived.
    A watchman in a turret at the western edge of town spotted the pair coming and rang the bell. Everyone everywhere dropped what they were doing and spilled out into the streets. Aon and her father had been finishing their dinner when they heard the bell. They fussed with each other’s clothes—he straightened her dress; she smoothed his wrinkly shirt—before heading out into the street.
    The townsfolk lined up in front of their houses and stood up tall. There was no guarantee that the Hoods would visit your street, but you wanted to be ready if they did. Aon slipped her hand into her father’s. She almost gasped as she saw the two Hoods round the corner and make their way slowly down her own street. Someone
she knew
was being chosen.
    The Hoods walked closer and closer. The queen’s envoys wore the long robes of monks, with voluminous cowls stained a deep, dark red, the exact color of a sunset heralding an oncoming storm. Their faces were never, ever seen. They slowed as they approached Aon’s house.
    For a moment, Aon thought they were going to choose
her
. It was rare, but not unheard of, for the Hoods to select a child. Her heart and mind raced; her heart marveled at the thrill of serving the queen, and her mind filled with questions she would ask.
    Why choose me, Your Majesty? Did I please you in some way? What is Dreadwillow Carse? Why does it make me feel sad? Why do you want us to be happy so badly?
    Am I really broken?
    Yes. That was the first question she needed answered.
    The Hoods stopped in front of Aon’s father.
    Each Hood reached out an arm and laid it gently on her father’s shoulders.
    Aon’s throat burned with bile, even as her father’s face beamed with pride. A cheer rang up and down the streets of Emberfell. Aon couldn’t move. She hardly noticed when her father bent over and pulled her in tightly.
    â€œCan you believe it?” he whispered. She could feel his tears of joy as he pressed his cheek to hers.
    No.
He was happy? He was being taken away from his daughter. How could he be happy? She had no one