Madame Maline ran a school for the daughters of wealthy men who did not want young girls getting underfoot.

She was a large, yet elegant woman with a wide mouth and beetle- black eyes that could warm a good girl’s heart or freeze a misbehaving one’s. For the most part, her boarders were clean, well fed, and happy, and I was no exception.

On that particular day, Madame brought us all to the town with our fat little money pouches to buy clothes. I’d bought a beautiful blue dress and a long, velvet coat, for it was fall and the air was beginning to feel nippy, and one of those little feathered caps that were coming into style. The other girls were looking at my purchases with envy. My father was the wealthiest and farthest away of all our wealthy, far away fathers, and each month I was sent many gold coins to make my money pouch swell like a puppy that had eaten too much.

The coach was already piled high with bundles and baskets when we saw him. He was coming out of the apothecary across the street, a package wrapped in brown paper under his arm. It would be impossible not to know what he was. His identity was displayed for all the world to see by the shining, silvery spirit mark on his forehead.

Delkina was standing near me, and she leaned over and whispered, “Look, Ione, he’s Blessed.”

“I can see that he’s Blessed,” I whispered back to her.

We watched as the man walked down the street and disappeared around a corner. Delkina gave a little sigh. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful? To be given powers by the spirits as you slept. You’d wake up one day with a sign on your forehead, able to do all sorts of things you couldn’t before.”

I made a disdainful noise. I had only seen a few Blessed in my lifetime, and they had all been like this one: dirty, ragged, and sorrowful. I felt no envy for those the spirits blessed.

I woke that morning with my face pressed against the pillow. For a moment I could remember all of my dreams from the night before; I understood everything and everything was at peace. But in an eye-blink it was all gone, leaving an empty feeling in the pit of my soul and a strange certainty that I had spent all night roaming distant dreamworlds without getting any rest.

I propped myself on my arms and saw that all the other girls had gone downstairs already. This surprised me. Usually everyone would make such a tremendous noise yelling to each other and banging around the dormitory, that the entire street would be jerked awake. I chose my clothing for the day with care, as I did everyday. In all likelihood what I wore would be the most important decision I’d ever have to make throughout my entire life. Madame Maline knew this, and so she had trained us well in the arts of wardrobe. I was her best student.

As I descended the stairs to the dining room, I fully expected that all of the girls would stare in envy and awe at my new dress and general perfection of grace and grooming. And sure enough, when I entered they all had their eyes on me, even Madame. But it wasn’t quite the look of envious reverence I had anticipated. Instead, there was shock. And lying under the surface, waiting for the shock to die down a bit so it could show itself, was what I could have sworn... was fear.

I was so disturbed by this, I didn’t even bother to walk with elegant grandeur as I took my seat. The girls on either side of me threw themselves out of their chairs! Jeelie landed in the lap of the girl beside her and Ponra hit the floor with a crash.

“What is wrong with you!” I yelled at the table. “This is personal insult to me, and as the daughter of one of the most influential men in Artheld I demand that you explain your behavior this instant or suffer the consequences!”

They all remained cowering back like lambs before a wolf. I could see them nudging Delkina and whispering to her. Finally she stood up, grasping a silver platter like a shield, and walked around the table to me on quivering legs. A single lamb as a sacrifice to save the herd. Still trembling, Delkina held the smooth, polished surface up in front of my face.

I screamed and ran to the washroom as if there were demons on my heels.

The mirror showed the same thing the platter had. The same silver lines and curves, shining from the same pale brow. In desperation I grabbed up the soap and began to rub at my forehead so hard it burned.

“I don’t think it will wash off.” It was Ponra, at the doorway at the head of a swarm of girls.

“So you jumped out of your seat to avoid touching me,” I threw the soap down and it hit the tile with a spray of soft white splinters, “and yet you crowd in here to... to... gloat!” I caught the sash from around my waist and wrapped it around my head. The spirit mark shone through the thin fabric. With a grunt of frustration I snatched off my new sash and tore it into pieces.

I ignored the girls, who were still calling stuff out.

“My daddy says that all the Blessed are crazy.”

“I bet Madame kicks her out.”

“Show us some magic, Ione!”

I turned and barged steadily into the crowd of my classmates. They swarmed after me as I stormed through the dining room (Madame Maline was still sitting at the head of the table with her spoon in her hand, dealing with the fact that one of her students had been Blessed) up the stairs and into the dormitory, slamming the door behind me and sitting against it so they couldn’t come in. I listened through the door as they continued to talk in blaring voices. Eventually they gave up and left. Only then did I permit myself to cry.

I sat facing Madame Maline in the fussy, formal parlor used for meeting with parents. A letter was in her hand, and her black eyes were running across it. I realized that she was probably reading at a normal speed, but to me it seemed that an eternity passed each time those eyes rolled from one side of the page to the other. At long last she folded the letter and dropped it into her lap in one polished gesture.

“What did he say?” I demanded.

“Miss Ione, your father informs me that he will no longer be sending funds to support your continued presence at this school.”

“Perfect,” I said, brightening a little for the first time in days. I would rather have died than stay there, “When will the carriage come to take me home?”

Madame gave a sigh so deep that her shoulders shuddered. “I regret to say this Miss, you must know that I do, but there will be no carriage.”

I snapped to my feet. “What do you mean there will be no carriage!” I yelled. “There must be a carriage! Didn’t you say that I wouldn’t be a student anymore?”

“Yes, I did, though if it is any comfort, you may stay here as long as you want, provided that you do a few chores to lighten my load.”

“Why should I stay here as a... a... servant” I spit the last word, “when I have a home and a father who is one of the most powerful men in the kingdom!”

Madame was cringing back from me, intimidated, no doubt, by the spirit mark. “Miss Ione, your father has said in this letter that you will no longer be welcome in his household.”

I began to pace up and down in front of Madame’s sofa, “No! It can not be! It is not! I am his only daughter, his only child! I’ll... I’ll walk there if I have to!” And with that I turned and stormed out of the parlor and up the stairs.

Someone else must have commanded my body to get my traveling bag and begin to stuff clothes into it. I know that I had been rendered incapable of thought. The unseen puppet-master led me into the pantry where it helped itself to food to be stuffed on top of the clothes in my bag. It then marched me out the front door, through the school’s gardens, and about a mile down the road before depositing me on the side like a broken toy.

Now that I was outside and the world was more green than red, I realized that the letter had not been some lie or forgery. My father would certainly cast off his Blessed daughter.

What could I do now? Royal families usually employed several Blessed to perform magic for them. Maybe I’d do that. I sat up and saw a smooth pebble lying a few feet away from me. Summoning all my will, I concentrated on the pebble, willing it to move just a tiny bit. To lift into the air. To roll across the grass. To quiver a bit like it was about to move. But it just lay there, a stubborn lump of grey rock.

Blessed (Cursed, more like it) and I couldn’t even do a little simple magic. I lunged, threw the thing across the road, and collapsed into a sobbing heap.

“Are you okay?”

My face was pressed into the grass, and someone was shaking me. Rolling over I saw a boy about my age. As soon as he glimpsed my face he threw himself backwards and began mumbling various incomprehensible things. I just stared at him, until he finally realized that there was a human being beneath the bright, glaring brand. “Um... do you want a ride um... ma’am? Maybe? Don’t hurt me!”

I got up from the ground and dusted grass flakes from my dress. “Actually, I would like a ride. Where are you going?”

“Artha, that is, if that pleases you, ma’am,” he was babbling like a brook, “We could go somewhere else, anywhere you like ma’am!”

“Artha will be fine.” I mounted his horse, a fairly good steed, he must be a messenger of some sort. “Come on boy, let’s get going.” I smiled as I heard myself ordering him around like the servants at the school.

The boy took his time climbing onto the horse, carefully placing himself to avoid touching me, and we were off! The hoof beats sounded to me like the drums of heaven. In the capital, I would be able to find someone who could teach me to use the powers I knew I had. Then I would be able to turn this curse into the blessing it was supposed to be.