At noon, the clock’s chimes echoed through the parlor window, signaling the end of my gardening sentence. The garden gate creaked, announcing Mother’s return to check on me, a basket of fresh herbs looped through her arm. She frowned as she surveyed the dirt smudging my dress and the pathetically tiny pile of weeds I’d pulled.
“Distracted today, are we?”
I flinched at her disapproving tone, even as I itched to see what Stardust was up to. After returning to the house and eating a quick lunch, I scampered towards the ladder, but I’d barely stepped onto the bottom rung when Mother grabbed my arm.
“Where are you escaping to? I need you to run an errand for me in the village.” She held up a wrapped pouch, more herbs to be delivered.
“I’ll be right back; I just need to grab something from my room.” I only needed one peek, just to check on that mischievous cloud.
But Mother wouldn’t hear of it, leaving me no choice but to go to the village, an excursion that would leave Stardust to her own devices for far longer than I wanted.
I hurried as quickly as I could through the meadow dividing our home from the bustling village, delivered my package to the old biddy, and after extracting myself from her tedious rambles, I made my escape.
I took several side roads to avoid the heated, suspicious stares of the bustling crowds, only pausing outside the village gates when I noticed a little girl standing with her father as he tenderly played pat-a-cake with her. My heart warmed at the smile lighting her face, pleased that her father’s attention was providing a respite from the memory of last night’s nightmare still hovering near her.
My gaze flickered from the girl’s smile to her father. Seeing him caused the familiar pang to swell in my breast as the question that had haunted me my entire life returned: what had happened to my father? I’d asked Mother about him countless times, each inquiry followed by the same response: “You don’t have a father,” an answer that always left me confused.
“But everyone has a father. Did he abandon us?”
“You don’t have a father,” Mother repeated in her firm, unrelenting tone that forbade further questions. No matter how much I prodded for more information, she remained tight-lipped, until I eventually gave up. My lack of a father became yet another difference between me and the villagers, one of many I could never break free from.
I sighed and turned my back on the tender family scene and trudged home, where once again I tried to escape to my room, but Mother kept me busy the rest of the afternoon until it was time to prepare dinner. I joined her at the table, where a stack of vegetables waited to be diced. I stifled my growl of frustration. It had now been nearly eight hours since I’d left Stardust to her own devices; I sincerely doubted she’d spent the entire day innocently coloring.
I’d never chopped carrots and onions more quickly, and nearly broke a glass when setting the table. Mother watched me with raised eyebrows as she cooked the stew over the fire, but thankfully she didn’t question my behavior. I strained my ears for any noises coming from upstairs, but Stardust remained quiet until after dinner, when a creak pierced the air as I scrubbed the dishes. I froze.
Mother paused in her sewing and glanced up. “What was that?”
I listened with bated breath. All was quiet. “What was what?”
Mother frowned, ear cocked towards the ceiling. “I thought I heard—never mind.”
I quickly finished the last plate and left the dishes to dry. “I’ll be in my room.” I dashed up the ladder before Mother could find something else for me to do.
Stardust hastily hid something behind her the moment I reached the loft. Her coloring book and crayons lay abandoned on the floor, her picture unfinished. As I’d suspected, she’d spent the entire day up to mischief.
“What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” she said in a rush, eyes wide with guilt. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“Show me.” Judging by her behavior, it was definitely something of mine. She sighed and revealed one of my dream journals.
“Give that back.” I lunged forward, but she darted towards the ceiling.
“I haven’t had a chance to investigate it yet.”
“I told you not to cause any mischief.”
“Solving mysteries is anything but mischievous.” Her eyes glistened. “I knew you were hiding something, so I started investigating the moment you slipped downstairs. It was nearly impossible to find clues in such disarray, but I persevered. Did you think a clever cloud such as myself, with impeccable observation skills, would fail to notice the loose floorboard beneath the pile of pillows you call a bed, even in this sloppy mess? Please. It’s so cliché I can’t believe I didn’t look there in the first place.” She flipped my journal open to the first page.
“Don’t read it.” But my plea fell on unmerciful ears.
Stardust studied each entry carefully. “These are only dreams.” She raised her disappointed gaze to mine. “You don’t seem the journalling type…which means this being a journal is nothing more than a red herring. Last year I read a book about secret codes. You must have mixed your dark secrets between random dreams to fool potential snoops. I bet three bags of moonbits these dreams are really encrypted messages.” She squinted at an entry so closely her nose grazed the page.
I sighed. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re investigating, only that I have nothing to do with it. Any magic I’ve
