Give Me (Wyrd and Fae #1)(13)

“It wasn’t casual and it wasn’t odd,” Lourdes said. “Galen loves me. He’ll never agree to marry some Sarumosian shrew he’s never met.”

Poor Lourdes.

“He will marry her,” Mother said. “Galen knows his duty. Dumnos needs this alliance with Sarumos to assure them we’re no threat. Queen Elfryth made that quite clear during my visit.”

“I’m not afraid of Elfryth,” Lourdes said.

“Then you’re a fool,” Mother said. “The queen has convinced her husband to support the monasteries, and that could be the end of us all.”

“Dumnos will last forever.” Lourdes tossed her head, and her hair shimmered like a black waterfall.

“I wasn’t referring to Dumnos,” Mother said. “Wyrders are always complaining about the fae, but they dismiss the monks as simple fools. Elyse? Is that you?”

Still in the mudroom, Elyse chuckled to herself. Mother could always tell when she was nearby. “It was the swords,” she said, entering the kitchen. “King Edgar is afraid of them.”

“Very good, dear.” It wasn’t clear if Mother referred to the logic or the morning’s gleanings, but either way the approval felt wonderful.

“Little miss clever cauldron.” Lourdes snapped a kitchen towel at her—but she winked good-naturedly. Once in a while she noticed Elyse was alive in the world.

“Where is Meduyl?” Elyse looked around for the housemaid.

“She’s gone home for a few days to help with the new baby,” Mother said. She started chopping a clump of parsley but stopped and looked at Elyse. “It was indeed the swords that provoked Sarumos.”

This mess with Sarumos had been set off by such a small thing. Last year Mother had wyrded a batch of iron for the blacksmith who made her cauldrons and cooking pots. The wyrding rendered the iron more supple and gave it extraordinary strength. The smithy needed less material, and the resultant pots were far lighter than before. He used the leftover wyrded metal on other orders.

It wasn’t long before everyone wanted things made from the stuff.

King Jowan declared a holiday, and on that day Frona led the wyrders of Dumnos in a massive wyrding of all the iron ore buried beneath the kingdom. Everyone had been delighted with their lighter pots and pans. They distributed heat evenly, and some swore they were easier to clean.

King Jowan’s swordsmith used the new iron to make weapons lighter and stronger than any before. With such a sword, a Dumnos fighter of average skill was instantly faster and more accurate than the best knight of Sarumos. And King Jowan had to go and rub it in.

“I wish the king had not made King Edgar a gift of the swords.” Mother continued chopping.

“Male pride,” Lourdes said. “How could he resist? At last Dumnos has something better than Sarumos.”

“He should have sent a cauldron.” But Elyse’s joke failed. She tried a different subject. “The hawthorn and wild garlic are in season, Mother. I found the first blooms.” She took the white and yellow flowers out of the basket and spread them on the worktable.

“You have such talent,” Mother said. “You know before anyone where to find the best botanicals.”

“I’m a veritable fairy queen.”

Mother winced. “Your power won’t be denied you much longer.”

If only that were true. Elyse couldn’t tell if Mother’s grimace was for Elyse’s self-deprecation or from pain, but in any event a strong tea made from the fresh flowers would calm her heart and bolster her strength. Elyse put the kettle on the hook over the kitchen fire.

“Why does anything have to change?” Lourdes couldn’t let it go. “I won’t believe Galen’s betrothed until he says so to my face.”

And why did you have to fall in love with the wrong man when you have so many to choose from?

Of course Elyse didn’t say that aloud, but it was true that Lourdes could have any other man she wanted. Elyse always felt like a sputtering candle beside her sister’s blazing beauty. Elyse had drab yellow hair, and Lourdes’s tresses were as black as raven feathers. Elyse’s eyes were dull gray-blue; Lourdes’s were deep green and sparkled. Lourdes favored their mother. Elyse looked like the father she’d never known.

On the night of the king’s feast Lourdes had been particularly dazzling, and Prince Galen had danced with her more than anyone. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm of that night had not flowered into something more enduring.

“I’ll wyrd him,” Lourdes said. “I’ll make him love me.”

“No.” Mother flicked her wrist, and Lourdes jumped. But this wasn’t a wyrd; it was a warning. “You already know that would be futile.”

Lourdes blushed purple. Sun and moon! She had wyrded Prince Galen at the feast.

“But that’s impossible,” Elyse said. “The magics don’t work on royalty. Brother Sun and Sister Moon have decreed it.”

“The high gods have forbidden us to use magics on royalty.” Mother’s gaze stayed on Lourdes. “Not quite the same thing as making them unworkable.”

The ground seemed to shift. This was news to Elyse—and it would be news to the royals. Protection wasn’t immunity.

“The royals believe they’re immune to magics, and that’s a useful state of affairs,” Mother said. “It would serve no good purpose to enlighten them on the finer point.”