Owl Eyes: A Fairy Tale by Molly Lazer
Publication date: March 20th, 2018
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
Nora knows three things: she is a servant, her parents are dead, and she lives in the kitchen house with her adoptive family. But her world is torn apart when she discovers that her birth father has always been right there, living in the house she serves.
This discovery leads Nora to more questions. Why was she thrown in an ash-covered room for asking about her father? Why is a silver-bladed knife the only inheritance from her birth mother? Why is magic forbidden in her household--and throughout the province of the Runes? The answers may not be the ones Nora hoped for, as they threaten a possible romance and her relationship with the adoptive family she loves.
With the announcement of a royal ball, Nora must decide what she is willing to give up in order to claim her stolen birthright, and whether this new life is worth losing her family--and herself.
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Excerpt
"Nora?"
I wheeled around to face Sarah, the head maid.
"What are you doing here?"
I looked at the floor. The grey and green grain of the marble flowed like the lines on one of Sir Alcander's maps. I ran the tip of my shoe along one of the paths.
"I'm looking for Robert," I said. "I need to talk to him. It's important."
"He's taking dictation for Sir Alcander." Sarah looked past me down the hall. "He'll be done soon. Come with me."
She put a hand on my back and ushered me in the direction from which I'd come.
"You're not supposed to be in here," she said.
"I know." I tucked the cameo into my pocket. "But it's important. Don't tell Greta, please."
Sarah glanced behind us. The pressure of her hand on my back became more urgent.
"It's not Greta I'm worried about." She opened the door to the servants' quarters and pushed me inside. "Stay here. I'll get Robert."
She left the door open a crack and hurried down the hall. I sat on Robert's bed. A long piece of straw poked out of the mattress. I pulled it out from the fabric and broke a piece off the end. By the time Robert arrived, shutting the door behind him, there was a small pile of straw on my lap. I leapt off the bed, spilling it on the floor.
"Sorry." I bent down to sweep the straw into my hand. Robert knelt to help me.
"Nora, what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be--"
"I need to talk to you," I said. "It's about my--" The word stuck on my tongue. "Um, Siobhan and Annabelle said that..." I took the cameo out of my pocket. "Who is this?"
Robert snatched it out of my hand. "What are you doing with this?" My cheeks burned. "I found it on the shelf. Is it your wife?"
The angry lines on Robert's face softened. "No, it's my sister. She died a long time ago. Why do you ask?"
I sat on the bed. I felt heavy enough that I might sink into the straw and never come out.
"Siobhan and Annabelle said they heard Lady Portia and Sir Alcander talking, and they said that my"--I choked out the word--"father was in the main house. I thought that you might be--"
Robert moved away, dropping the straw into a bucket next to the bed. I sank farther into the mattress. Being poked with spindles of straw was preferable to the silence in the room.
"Your father?" Robert said. "Nora, the man who was your father is long gone."
"But you have to be," I protested. "Your hair, it's just like mine."
"What, this old mess?" Robert ran a hand through his hair and sat down next to me.
My voice dropped to a whisper. "It has to be you."
"I'm sorry, Nora. I don't have any children. Peter's been a good father to you, hasn't he?"
"Yes." I could feel each razor of straw jabbing into my skin. "I just thought--"
Wait. What did he say?
"You know who my father was!" It came out as a statement, not a question. Robert jumped up from the bed.
"No, Nora, you misunderstood. I--"
"Yes, you do!" I leapt up after him. "You said he was gone, but you know who he was. Tell me!"
Robert's eyes darted back and forth as if he were looking for a way to escape the conversation before fixing on a point behind me. Panic tinged his voice.
"She was just bringing a message from the kitchen house."
I turned to see Lady Portia standing on the other side of the door. I hadn't heard it open. Waves of anger passed through her cold ocean eyes. I had only ever seen Lady Portia angry, but this was different. This was rage, and it was aimed squarely at me.
Robert put a protective arm around my shoulders.
"I'm sending her back right now."
"Eleanor." Lady Portia's voice was ice cracking. "You are not permitted in here."
"I'm sorry," I croaked. "I'll go back." This was different from Sarah's conversation at finding me in the hall or Robert's initial anger at discovering his cameo in my hands. Different, and infinitely more dangerous.
Before I could move, Lady Portia was in the room, grabbing my arm and wrenching me from Robert's grasp. I could feel her breath on my cheeks as she pulled me close.
"You are supposed to stay in the kitchen house," she hissed. She jerked me out of the room and down the hall.
"Ma'am--" Robert started after us.
"Stay where you are," Portia said without turning to look at him. "This is none of your business."
I looked back, panicked, as I flailed in my attempt to keep up with Lady Portia's long stride. I heard the sound of the back door being thrown open. I could only hope Robert was going to get Greta or Peter.
Lady Portia's fingers burned on my arm as she pulled me behind her, making a series of turns through the hallways. Anytime I opened my mouth to protest, to apologize, to cry, she jerked me forwards, and my words were swallowed in a yelp of pain. She finally stopped in front of a plain, wooden door. It felt out of place next to the other doors in the hallway, which were lacquered and covered in carvings. Its austerity didn't belong, just like I didn't.
My wrist glowed red when Lady Portia let me go, and I rubbed my arm to quell the pain. My mouth ran ahead of me, spitting out every apology I could think of. She ignored me as she sorted through the keys on a ring she took from her dress pocket and fit a large iron key into the lock. The door creaked open. I couldn't make out anything inside--there were no windows to let in the light. The darkness in the room felt different than when the kitchen house darkened after sunset. This darkness was hungry. I turned to run.
Portia caught my wrist and shoved me into the room. I fell on my hands and knees. Small pieces of something--dust? ash?--rose up around me, making their way into my throat. I started to cough.
"Never ask about your father again." She slammed the door, plunging me into the dark.
I wheeled around to face Sarah, the head maid.
"What are you doing here?"
I looked at the floor. The grey and green grain of the marble flowed like the lines on one of Sir Alcander's maps. I ran the tip of my shoe along one of the paths.
"I'm looking for Robert," I said. "I need to talk to him. It's important."
"He's taking dictation for Sir Alcander." Sarah looked past me down the hall. "He'll be done soon. Come with me."
She put a hand on my back and ushered me in the direction from which I'd come.
"You're not supposed to be in here," she said.
"I know." I tucked the cameo into my pocket. "But it's important. Don't tell Greta, please."
Sarah glanced behind us. The pressure of her hand on my back became more urgent.
"It's not Greta I'm worried about." She opened the door to the servants' quarters and pushed me inside. "Stay here. I'll get Robert."
She left the door open a crack and hurried down the hall. I sat on Robert's bed. A long piece of straw poked out of the mattress. I pulled it out from the fabric and broke a piece off the end. By the time Robert arrived, shutting the door behind him, there was a small pile of straw on my lap. I leapt off the bed, spilling it on the floor.
"Sorry." I bent down to sweep the straw into my hand. Robert knelt to help me.
"Nora, what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be--"
"I need to talk to you," I said. "It's about my--" The word stuck on my tongue. "Um, Siobhan and Annabelle said that..." I took the cameo out of my pocket. "Who is this?"
Robert snatched it out of my hand. "What are you doing with this?" My cheeks burned. "I found it on the shelf. Is it your wife?"
The angry lines on Robert's face softened. "No, it's my sister. She died a long time ago. Why do you ask?"
I sat on the bed. I felt heavy enough that I might sink into the straw and never come out.
"Siobhan and Annabelle said they heard Lady Portia and Sir Alcander talking, and they said that my"--I choked out the word--"father was in the main house. I thought that you might be--"
Robert moved away, dropping the straw into a bucket next to the bed. I sank farther into the mattress. Being poked with spindles of straw was preferable to the silence in the room.
"Your father?" Robert said. "Nora, the man who was your father is long gone."
"But you have to be," I protested. "Your hair, it's just like mine."
"What, this old mess?" Robert ran a hand through his hair and sat down next to me.
My voice dropped to a whisper. "It has to be you."
"I'm sorry, Nora. I don't have any children. Peter's been a good father to you, hasn't he?"
"Yes." I could feel each razor of straw jabbing into my skin. "I just thought--"
Wait. What did he say?
"You know who my father was!" It came out as a statement, not a question. Robert jumped up from the bed.
"No, Nora, you misunderstood. I--"
"Yes, you do!" I leapt up after him. "You said he was gone, but you know who he was. Tell me!"
Robert's eyes darted back and forth as if he were looking for a way to escape the conversation before fixing on a point behind me. Panic tinged his voice.
"She was just bringing a message from the kitchen house."
I turned to see Lady Portia standing on the other side of the door. I hadn't heard it open. Waves of anger passed through her cold ocean eyes. I had only ever seen Lady Portia angry, but this was different. This was rage, and it was aimed squarely at me.
Robert put a protective arm around my shoulders.
"I'm sending her back right now."
"Eleanor." Lady Portia's voice was ice cracking. "You are not permitted in here."
"I'm sorry," I croaked. "I'll go back." This was different from Sarah's conversation at finding me in the hall or Robert's initial anger at discovering his cameo in my hands. Different, and infinitely more dangerous.
Before I could move, Lady Portia was in the room, grabbing my arm and wrenching me from Robert's grasp. I could feel her breath on my cheeks as she pulled me close.
"You are supposed to stay in the kitchen house," she hissed. She jerked me out of the room and down the hall.
"Ma'am--" Robert started after us.
"Stay where you are," Portia said without turning to look at him. "This is none of your business."
I looked back, panicked, as I flailed in my attempt to keep up with Lady Portia's long stride. I heard the sound of the back door being thrown open. I could only hope Robert was going to get Greta or Peter.
Lady Portia's fingers burned on my arm as she pulled me behind her, making a series of turns through the hallways. Anytime I opened my mouth to protest, to apologize, to cry, she jerked me forwards, and my words were swallowed in a yelp of pain. She finally stopped in front of a plain, wooden door. It felt out of place next to the other doors in the hallway, which were lacquered and covered in carvings. Its austerity didn't belong, just like I didn't.
My wrist glowed red when Lady Portia let me go, and I rubbed my arm to quell the pain. My mouth ran ahead of me, spitting out every apology I could think of. She ignored me as she sorted through the keys on a ring she took from her dress pocket and fit a large iron key into the lock. The door creaked open. I couldn't make out anything inside--there were no windows to let in the light. The darkness in the room felt different than when the kitchen house darkened after sunset. This darkness was hungry. I turned to run.
Portia caught my wrist and shoved me into the room. I fell on my hands and knees. Small pieces of something--dust? ash?--rose up around me, making their way into my throat. I started to cough.
"Never ask about your father again." She slammed the door, plunging me into the dark.
About the Author:
Molly Lazer is a former associate editor at Marvel Comics, where she worked on books such as Fantastic Four, Captain America, New Avengers, and cult favorite comic book Spider-Girl. After returning to graduate school to receive a degree in education, she began a career as a high school reading, writing, and drama teacher. She also serves as a professional critiquer for Comics Experience, helping aspiring comic book writers finesse scripts for publication.
In 2016, Molly received a MFA in Creative Writing from Rosemont College. Her short stories have been featured in numerous literary magazines including Gone Lawn, LIT, and Silver Blade. She lives outside Philadelphia with her husband and twin sons. Owl Eyes is her first novel.
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