Give Me (Wyrd and Fae #1)(14)

Indeed. Would King Jowan be such a good friend to wyrders if he knew he was susceptible to their spells?

“At all events, all magic is impotent on everyone where love is concerned.” Mother continued chopping the parsley. “Oh, you can play at it, and at first you’ll think your spell has worked. But love is immune to the magics. Desire can be wyrded. Not delight.”

“Then I’ll make him desire me,” Lourdes said. “It’s the same thing.”

“It is not. Foolish, foolish girl.” The parsley was turning to mush. “And even desire requires too much. The wyrding fades over time, and soon so much strength is needed for the one spell that you have to choose: your heart’s desire or your very life.”

“What is life worth without my heart’s desire?”

Despite the melodrama, Lourdes had a point. Elyse said, “Mother, don’t you always say love is the only thing that makes life worthwhile?” Maybe their mother was too old to appreciate love anymore.

“Loving is the very purpose of living, my dear ones, but there are all sorts of love. To see the lilacs bloom every spring and the sparrows building their nests, to listen to thunder while safe by the fire with a hot mug. To watch the awareness of the world grow in your children’s eyes.”

Elyse prayed silently. Brother Sun, Sister Moon, keep Mother well; I’ll give anything.

“It has been such a joy watching you grow, Lourdes,” Mother said. “Your skills are exemplary.”

That silenced Lourdes for the moment.

“And you, Elyse.”

“It’s all right, Mother. I know I’m a disappointment to you.”

“Oh, Elyse, no! You’re a wonder to me. You play the pipa with your own kind of magic.”

That was actually true. Elyse played the oriental stringed instrument better than anyone who’d tried. As if she had been born knowing how.

“All kinds of love.” Lourdes scoffed. “I’ll never have children if I can’t have my true love.” Her purple face blotched with white spots, anger consuming her beauty. She grabbed their mother’s hand and held it up. The three of them stared at the ring as Lourdes’s meaning sank in.

“No, Lourdes,” Mother said.

“You could do it. You could give me Galen.”

“Never.” Mother ripped her hand away. “Never say such a thing again. Don’t even think it.” She swayed and grabbed the table.

Elyse steadied her. “You’re freezing, Mother. Where is your shawl?”

“On the roof, I think.”

As Elyse left the kitchen, Mother said to Lourdes, “Put Galen out of your thoughts. I won’t speak against this alliance. I’m the one who suggested it.”

Great gods!

Mother’s room on the third floor was the best spot in Glimmer Cottage. It had a roof deck with pots of herbs and flowers and places to sit and observe the world. Jasmine covered the deck’s south rail. Mother said its night blossoms bore the fragrance of Elysium, the heaven Elyse was named after.

A long time ago, a Sarumosian ship’s captain had brought the vine to Mother in gratitude after she’d wyrded his vessel to safety off the rocks in Tintagos Bay.

Every year since then, near the end of summer the great ship sailed into Tintagos Bay with another wondrous present for Mother: a cask of olive oil, the Tang pipa Elyse had learned to play, Mother’s shawl—and one year a bag of hard green beans, a box with a grinder in it, and a scroll with instructions to roast and grind the beans to make the most marvelous drink. Every year Elyse hoped the thankful captain would send those beans again.

She found the shawl draped over the chaise chair on the deck and wrapped it around her shoulders. It smelled of lavender and rosemary, like Mother.

Movement caught her eye in the meadow between the cottage and Igdrasil. She dropped the shawl on the chaise and picked up Mother’s wyrded glass for a better look. Lourdes always complained that the glass wasn’t strong enough, but on a day this clear Elyse could see the wall guards at Tintagos Castle with it.

She easily identified the handsome blond man on horseback, galloping toward Glimmer Cottage at full speed.

“Mother! Lourdes!” She flew down to the kitchen. “Prince Galen is coming!”





5

Glamour Dust



Mother untied her apron and handed it to Elyse. She smoothed her hair, once as dark as Lourdes’s, the strands now invaded by gray. The worry line between her brows had deepened.

“Stay here, girls.”

Lourdes followed her anyway, and as Mother passed under the arch of the kitchen door she gestured over her shoulder like tossing salt. “Stay.” She wiggled her fingers to set a boundary. Her wyrds were stronger than iron and didn’t need histrionics, but lately she’d added the hand flourishes.

The embellishment intensified the boundary’s strength. Powerful as Lourdes was, she couldn’t break it. Elyse stood with her in the doorway, and they both strained to hear Mother and Prince Galen in the parlor.

Lourdes’s face lit up. “A glimmer glass.” She flung the cupboard open and shuffled through its contents. “She keeps one here somewhere.”

Her thick hair fell forward around her shoulders, free of the jeweled net she usually kept it tucked into. The graceful precision of her movements and the cinch laced around her simple dress accented her figure, but her obsession with Galen threw an ugly cast on all her loveliness.