The Stringless. Alisha Walkerden

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СКАЧАТЬ of her fellow dancers blurred past her. The candlelight flickered off the strings. She felt like she was in a strange dream. She looked back to Flynn, his blue eyes filled with the usual glaze of a puppet. He smiled at her. The same glint that flicked through before was quickly replaced with a hollow look.

      It took a few seconds for Serie to realise she had stopped dancing. The violins had ceased their simpering sounds and faded into the background. Flynn let go of one of Serie’s hands, keeping the other loosely clasped. He led her to their little table, supper already on the plates. Serie started to eat, when Flynn interrupted with the polite conversation that the other tables had started.

      “It is lovely to meet you, Serie. I have been looking forward to meeting you for a long time,” he said, as a hint of excitement crept into his eyes again.

      “Thank you, Flynn,” Serie replied, as she struggled to hold back the response that her strings wanted her to give. “What do you do, Flynn?” Serie asked before he could react to her lack of reciprocation.

      “I’m training to be a knight in Lord Maître’s army. You’re one of his maids, aren’t you? I’ve seen you around the palace.”

      Serie had never noticed him before. Even with her increased strength against her strings, she was often too caught up in her own thoughts and tasks to take the time to notice what was happening around her.

      Serie nodded. “How is your training progressing?”

      “My training is almost complete. I’ve been learning so much. It’s a great honour to be able to serve our Lord Maître. I hope I can make our family proud.”

      Serie’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. She would be the wife of a knight. That was considered an honour to the citizens of Kalan. Maître’s army would protect Kalan from any dangers.

      Maître having an army was always something that Serie never fully understood. If the strings had brought about peace, then there would be no more war. But then, Tristian and his band of Stringless would be a threat to Maître’s utopia.

      Flynn changed topics, his plate still untouched. “Where in Kalan do you live?”

      “I don’t live in the city, I live on the other side of the woods.”

      “I hear those woods can be dangerous,” Flynn said with awe.

      “They”re not. I enjoy walking through them every morning.”

      “There is no safer place for you than within the city walls, and with me by your side.”

      Serie held back a snort of laughter, especially when she noticed that Maître was looking at their table. She forced a weak smile, letting the strings say their intended words under the eye of their Master.

      “It’s a comforting thought that I won’t have to go through the woods any more.”

      Her stomach dropped as the words left her mouth.

      “Have I said something to offend you?” Flynn asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

      “What do you mean?” Serie asked, her eyes flicking over to Maître to make sure that he wasn’t watching them. Maître seemed to be more interested in his dinner than listening to the idle conversations of his puppets.

      “I mean, you seem to be indifferent to meeting me. Am I not what you expected?”

      Serie stared at Flynn, her tongue failing to find the words to Flynn’s out of the blue question. How was he observant to her lack of interest in him? Her understanding of the perfect behaviour of a puppet was one who never questioned why.

      “I apologise, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m overwhelmed with so many things.”

      “How. . .how can you be overwhelmed?”

      “I just meant that. . .” Serie trailed off when she realised she didn’t have an appropriate response to cover her slip of the tongue. She wasn’t meant to feel overwhelmed. Her life was simple, and straight forward, she had nothing that she needed to ponder. She couldn’t come out to Flynn and say that there were other things in her life that were more important in her mind than who Maître had paired her with.

      Though Flynn had some weird idiosyncrasies too, such as the fact that he could pick up that her indifference was not the strings’ doing. He somehow knew that her own behaviour was emerging at the wrong moment. Flynn was a knight, and by the sounds of it a loyal one, who would probably admit to Maître that his soon-to-be spouse had said things that a loyal puppet does not say. His wife had entertained thoughts that she shouldn’t. She had to do something to fix it. She reached her hand over to Flynn’s, lightly touching it before she withdrew.

      “I’m sorry, Flynn. My behaviour is a bit off tonight. I think I’m coming down with something, the change in season and everything.”

      “I thought that could be it,” Flynn perked up a little bit. “Make sure you drink lots of water and rest. When we are married, I will take the best care of you.”

      Serie nodded, forcing a small smile on her face, while pushing back her apathy. Flynn was nice, but as she sat there talking to him, she could not see herself marrying him. She didn’t reciprocate the glint of feeling he seemed to have for her. Imagining some form of a life with him meant staying captive to the strings, and that was something she did not want to happen.

      Five

      The sound of a flicking switch snapped Serie’s eyes open. Her strings slithered through the ceiling. She sprung out of bed—Tristian caught her before she slipped.

      “Be careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself.”

      “Sorry. I’ve been waiting for this since last night.”

      She followed Tristian into the hallway as he took them outside the house. Serie stood in the warm breeze, gazing up at the disappearing stars.

      “What happened?” Tristian asked.

      “I had my pairing.”

      “Who’s the lucky guy?”

      “His name is Flynn. He’s training to be a knight at the palace.”

      Tristian frowned, “You would move into Kalan.”

      “I suppose I will. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.”

      “Serie, I can’t go into Kalan. Maître has put a protection spell around the city. Anyone who can conjure magic cannot enter.”

      “What will happen if my strings don’t disappear in time? I need your help, Tristian.”

      “It will happen. You”ve made great progress. You’re walking by yourself unaided.”

      Serie paced the garden outside her cottage, feeling lighter than she had ever been.

      “How did the others walk away from their strings?” Serie asked.

      “Some of them had just had enough and walked away. A few of the others took months to even decide if they could learn how to live without the strings dictating СКАЧАТЬ