Free Stray by Elissa Sussman Page B

ourselves of such vulnerability can we properly assist and protect our wards.”
    Aislynn prayed that her legs would hold her as she stood. She wanted to be strong and brave. She wanted to be devoted. But her pulse quickened. Should she say good-bye? Could she? Was her loving heart something to be mourned, something to be missed? Or was it, as the headmistress said, a luxury and a danger, and therefore something that would be forgotten once it was gone?
    Madame Moira raised her hand in front of Aislynn’s chest. “I dedicate your sacrifice to the protection of our sisters. May you turn away from the love of men and keep your Path clear.”
    Aislynn squeezed her eyes shut but felt the spell as it hit her. A chill spread through her, frost dancing across her ribs. Her body became as thin as air, and she felt something like a hand pass through her, its fingers curling around her heart. It tugged. Then tugged again. And then, as if it had plucked the bloom from a flower, it withdrew. Aislynn’s body was solid once more. The cold slid down from her chest and settled into her hands, crystallizing her fingerprints. She looked up.
    Madame Moira held the glass jar aloft. Inside was a glowing orb, pulsing and blinking like a firefly. Its bright blue light filled the room. The headmistress quickly sealed the jar and, with a ring of keys, unlocked one of the doors in the wall. She placed the jar inside, the glowing thing that had once been a part of Aislynn swiftly locked away.
    Aislynn waited for pain. She waited for a sense of loss, of unfathomable sadness, but nothing came. She felt the same. Had it worked? She glanced over at the apple on the headmistress’s desk. The heat that had been there earlier when she had thought about Thackery was gone. She thought about Everett too, and there was no twinge, no ache. Her heart beat steadily on, no longer stopping at the thought of him.
    It felt wonderful.

“Y our schedule revolves around the monarch princess,” said Madame Moira as she led Aislynn out of the study.
    Aislynn placed her palm against her chest and felt a gentle, normal pulse. She could feel the chill from her fingers through the fabric of her uniform. Her heart was there, but it was different. It was a misleading description, she decided as she followed the headmistress. Having one’s loving heart removed didn’t feel as though anything had been taken from her. Instead, it was as if her heart had been frozen, that the part of her prone to foolish fantasies and swooning daydreams had been stilled, mid-beat.
    That wasn’t the only thing that felt different. Even the jagged longing she felt when she thought of her parents and Tahlia was now muted. The scent of her mother’s perfume, the sound of her father’s laugh. Her memories of them felt faraway, blurry and half recalled. As if they were a poem whose words she had memorized but no longer understood. Her heart felt cold, like a block of ice in her chest, the chill inching gently through her body.
    A proper fairy godmother had no need to remain connected to her past life. She would be grateful being freed of such unnecessary distractions. But Aislynn remembered what Tahlia had said to her that last night in the kitchen; that she should not let them take what she was not willing to give. Recalling those memories was like chasing a fading dream, but she couldn’t help herself. Not completely. Not yet.
    Madame Moira took her through the academy’s quiet main hallway until they reached the bustling kitchen. The air smelled of butter and tart apples. A servant was whisking a bowl of cream into soft peaks of sweetness, while another sliced strawberries into glistening red triangles. Oven doors swung open and slammed shut as other servants removed freshly baked scones and replaced them with sheets of uncooked dough. All of it was a dance more intoxicating than any ball Aislynn had ever attended.
    The appearance of the