Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(53)

"No, I will not," Mary said, her freckles looking angrier than the rest of her face. "They might well be dangerous."

"Please, Mary. I am asking, not demanding."

"And if I refuse?" Mary asked, chin raised high.

"Then I will ask you to go pick more so that I enjoy my bath."

Mary's shoulders deflated, but she turned and dumped the contents of her apron back into the tub. "But how do I protect you from poisons?"

Isabel grinned. "Want to hop in the tub before me?"

Mary giggled. "If you wish, countess."

"Want to drink the bathwater?"

Mary giggled more and couldn't seem to stop. She sank to the floor. "Only if 'twould turn me as beautiful as you . . . Isabel."

Isabel stood stunned for a moment. Which had zapped her more, Mary finally daring to call her by her first name or Mary saying such a sweet thing, she didn't know. But that verbal taser only lasted for a moment. She laughed and dropped down to the floor with a still giggling Mary. Isabel grabbed and hugged her.

Then they laughed together for a while before Isabel took Mary's shoulders and pushed her back. Then she laced her hands through Mary's hair, shoving it back as well.

"Mary, you are such a beautiful young lady. I wish I had been as pretty as you are when I was your age. Heck, you know what the boys called me when I was thirteen?"

Mary shook her head. "No . . . what?"

Oh, good gods, she couldn't remember. She knew they called her something that led to a bloody nose or two, but she was spacing on her nickname.

Stick chick.

Thanks for checking in, Viviane.

You are welcome. Just a reminder.

"They called me stick chick. It hurt a lot."

"I do not even understand what that means," Mary said.

"I was tall for my age and quite skinny. So the boys teased me mercilessly. But what it really means is that nasty people say nasty things to make themselves feel better. I got over being stick chick a long time ago. If any have ever said mean things to you, I promise you they are just being petty. Their comments mean nothing and are unfounded. You are a beautiful young woman. You are marrying a man very high up in the realm of Camelot. And I guarantee he did not ask for your hand because he finds you less than beautiful. Are you not happy about that?"

Mary bowed her head. "I wish betimes that James was not so high up in the realm."

"Because?"

"Because then my friends would not have turned against me so fast."

"They've turned against you?"

Mary nodded, and a teardrop landed on her knee. "And then I was assigned to be your servant, and even more turned away."

Isabel saw the heartbreak in Mary's eyes and wondered what kind of world this girl lived in where she had to choose between friends and her man. Or between success in whatever form, rather than remaining stagnant. She supposed in her own day that sort of thing still happened. For example, a stupid, bigoted jackass of a father who would rather see his daughter dead than marry outside her race or religion. But this. This was just wrong.

"Mary, do you love James?"

"Oh, yes, I very much love him."

"Good. Then remember those friends who are happy for you after you marry. And once you do marry and your station rises, bring them with you. You forget those whose envy and jealousies colored their judgment, and do what you will. Forgive them or ignore them. But never, ever forget those friends happy for you, okay?"

"Countess Isabel, I will ne'er forget you."

"You had better not!" It was juvenile, Isabel knew, but she felt so close to Mary already, almost as if they'd known each other forever. Had it only been a couple of days?

She held up her pinky finger. "We will be pinky-finger friends for life, should you agree."

Mary stared, obviously confused. But finally it seemed to dawn on her. She held up her pinky finger, and the two hooked them together.

"Pinky finger friends for life, Mary. The most important bond."

"Friends for life," Mary said.

Isabel held back tears. Finally she stood, pulling Mary up with her. "And now, miss, please go sweetly ask others to bring me lots and lots of hot water."

Mary stared down into the tub. "Isabel, what if . . . ?"

"The queen ingested it, Mary, she didn't bathe in it."

"You are certain of this?"

"According to Jenny, who came with news, Tom is. He helped her to vomit it out of her system."

"That is unpleasant."

"Tell me about it."

"I will have hot water brought to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Mary."

They smiled a wonderful friendship smile before Mary turned to leave. But she surprised Isabel by turning back. "I was more than a bit proud of you today, Isabel."

Isabel, feeling so drained she bet she could sleep for a week, smiled. "Thanks, Mary. It was just training I learned in my youth."

And wished desperately that she could have used it on Curtis in Afghanistan. But there had been so much blood.

"And, Isabel?" Mary said once again.

"Yes, Mary?"

"The king was quite worried about you."

"Me?"