Free Stray by Elissa Sussman

uniform itched. It was loose everywhere except around her throat, where it was pulled tight. The wimple covered her hair and wrapped down under her chin. At least there was no need for a corset, because Aislynn no longer had a waist—or a figure of any sort. Her entire form was hidden in the billowing purple fabric.
    She had been sitting in the headmistress’s study for what seemed like an eternity, staring at the oak desk that dominated the room. Behind it, set in the wall, were dozens of small doors. Each was the size and shape of a small book, and each was fitted with a dainty gold lock. Aislynn did not know what was behind those doors, but she welcomed the mystery, as it distracted her from the itchy headdress.
    The room was warm, and Tahlia’s hand mirror, which fit perfectly in her pocket, was pressed against her thigh. Aislynn didn’t know if Tahlia’s request to keep the gift close to her always was meant to be interpreted literally, but she knew she felt better having the mirror with her. She fought off a yawn.
    With a startling whoosh , the door swung open, revealing a thin woman in a headmistress’s uniform carrying a pile of scrolls. She looked familiar.
    Following her, dressed in a white suit, was an adviser Aislynn had never seen before. The woman deposited the scrolls on the desk. They rolled across the wood, followed by a shiny red apple, like the one Thackery had been eating the night before. Aislynn thought of his crooked teeth and bare arms and felt a hot flush across her chest.
    â€œYou may call me Madame Moira,” said the woman, peering over the top of her desk with a flat expression in her dark eyes. Despite the plush carpeting and the bright paintings, it was now clear to Aislynn that this academy was just like Nerine, and that Madame Moira was just another Madame Odette.
    And she now realized why this woman looked familiar. Aislynn had seen Madame Moira with her former headmistress at the ball, which meant she had likely been privy to the specific details of Aislynn’s Redirection. Anxiety inched up Aislynn’s spine like a long-limbed spider.
    While fairy godmothers were unmarried maidens, the women who taught at the academies had once been Contained, had once been loved. But because of an inability to bear children, a betrayal of their marriage vows, or any other act of impropriety, they had been Redirected. Now, instead of serving one family, one daughter, they served many. As teachers they were expected to lead their students away from wickedness and guide them safely down the Path.
    â€œWhat I see before me is a spoiled little girl who caused her headmistress nothing but trouble.” Madame Moira fixed her eyes on Aislynn. “Such willfulness will not be tolerated here. You will follow your new Path with grace and obedience. Do you understand me?”
    â€œYes, Madame Moira,” Aislynn whispered.
    â€œGood.” The headmistress gestured to her left. “This is Adviser Lennard.”
    He dipped his head in greeting and Aislynn did the same, wondering suddenly if she should have risen when they both entered. It was quite possible that all of this was a test that she was failing horribly.
    â€œYou are being assigned to Monarch Princess Linnea,” Madame Moira continued.
    Aislynn almost gasped. She knew that name. Everyone knew that name. Linnea was the daughter of Monarch King Dominick and his wife, Morganne, from the Eastern Kingdom. Both had died when Linnea was only an infant.
    During her four years at Nerine, Aislynn had heard many versions of the story, and all of them came to the same conclusion—that the death of the beloved rulers was in some way caused by Monarch Queen Morganne’s sister.
    â€œNo doubt you’ve heard of Linnea’s aunt,” Adviser Lennard said, his tone as smooth as fresh butter. “Josetta, formerly of Eriostemon.”
    â€œThe Wicked Queen,” Aislynn breathed.
    The adviser shook his