Give Me (Wyrd and Fae #1)(31)

“I know for a fact you haven’t eaten today.” Meduyl’s maternal instincts had flourished under the new scheme—a nice way to put it.

“Your thoughtfulness is commendable, Meduyl.”

“It was Miss Lourdes thought of it. You can thank her—later, after you eat.”

It wasn’t like Lourdes to think of Elyse’s welfare, even when Mother was alive. Maybe she was calming down, or at least making an attempt to accept it that Elyse would be the next oracle.

“Come away out of the wind or you’ll catch your death.”

“It appears Aeolios has another headache today. A bad one.”

Meduyl ignored the comment and looked sideways at the pipa. “And put that thing down.”

Elyse sighed. There was no one now to share jokes about Aeolios with. She laid the instrument gently on the chair. “I promise you there’s no dark magic at work here. No wyrds of any kind.”

Meduyl grumbled and made a lot of noise setting out the soup and spoon she’d brought. “You can’t tell me something carrying strange signs from the edge of the world isn’t full of dark magic. I can tell by its sour notes all is not right in the thing.”

“It’s from a different place, that’s all. Those are decorations, not evil signs. It’s just different.”

Meduyl was typical among Tintagos villagers. She didn’t admit her contradictions, let alone try to understand them. She denounced magic, yet she worked at Glimmer Cottage. She was the first to claim wyrders were lazy (but not you, Miss!) and the first to line up for her own cauldron made of wyrded steel.

Elyse took a seat near the jasmine where Meduyl had dragged the small table away from the wind. It was impossible now to breathe in the fragrance without thinking of Mother. Meduyl clucked and puttered around the roof, pretending to straighten things up.

Mother, I miss you. Elyse again considered going to the woods to look for Aubrey, despite her mother’s palpable fear of the fae king. Since learning she was half fairy, Elyse had pondered all the accepted wisdom she knew about the fae. None of it was reliable. The fae lived forever. No, merely five thousand years. They hated iron. They loved it. They couldn’t abide salt or sour bread, but cakes were good. They loved music and dancing—everyone agreed on those two. They were as likely to steal a baby as to grant a favor—but if they granted a favor, they hated to be thanked.

Elyse smiled. She understood that about thank you. She used to hate it when someone thanked her mother for a wyrd. King Jowan had said thank you for the Great Wyrding. What was that worth? Mother would be alive today if she’d never done the deed.

Hector whinnied in the paddock, and another horse answered.

“Who’s there, Meduyl?” Elyse looked up from her meal. “Do you recognize that horse?”

“There’s nobody,” Meduyl said nervously.

“What do you mean? Of course there is.” Elyse crossed to the other side of the roof.

“It’s Miss Lourdes.” Meduyl backed away toward the door. “She said I was to make sure you stayed on the roof.”

“That’s Galados.” Elyse leaned over the rail. A page held King Jowan’s stallion, and two knights also waited in the courtyard. “Why would the king come to Glimmer Cottage?”

“She said you needn’t be distressed.” Meduyl stood before the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest, her brows knitted together and stolid determination in her eyes. What, she meant to bar the way?

“Stay.” Elyse flicked her wrist and set a boundary around Meduyl. Yes! A clean, strong wyrd, and so soon after playing music. It would fade in a few minutes, but Elyse counted it a victory. She walked past the stunned Meduyl without a glance and made herself feather light so she’d make no noise going down the stairs.

Elyse had hoped the underlying bond of sisterly love would prove stronger than petty jealousy, but it had turned out there was no bond between her and Lourdes. With Mother gone, Lourdes had lost all exterior restraint on her power. She’d clearly formed no self-restraint. There was but one explanation for King Jowan’s visit. Lourdes had put a fetching wyrd on him. Subjects went to the king; the king did not go to his subjects.

She’d used the magics on a royal.

“So you see, Elyse can never be the oracle, sire.” Lourdes was talking to the king in the parlor. “She’s not even talented. Her wyrds are only sporadically effective. She can work all the glimmer glasses, I’ll give her that. And once in a while a little spell executes perfectly—even beautifully. If only Mother hadn’t died. I’m sure, with her guidance, Elyse could one day have been very good. But you deserve better than could have been in your oracle.”

“But Frona did give Elyse the ring,” King Jowan said.

Elyse had no idea how to break the fetching wyrd. She pictured the king and thought free him and threw in a double flutter of both wrists for good measure.

“That’s true.” Lourdes sounded sad, as if she regretted the hard things that must be said. “And if Elyse were competent, I would support the idea that Mother meant her to be the oracle. Mother must have known she was dying. She had to transfer the ring, and I wasn’t here. Elyse was the only option.”

King Jowan didn’t answer. He must be considering Lourdes’s words.

“I can’t bear to consider the other possibility,” Lourdes added.