My Lady Jane(91)

He ignored her and wandered away, seemingly satisfied to be a horse.

Meanwhile, Edward was soaring and diving with abandon back and forth above them, and soon he gave a great hawk-like cry, and vanished over the trees.

“I’d better go after him,” Gracie said. “Looks like he’s caught up in that bird joy again.” Then right there in front of Jane, Gran, and Gifford—who was aiming for a field to run in, not even noticing the ladies anymore—Gracie shimmied out of her trousers and turned into a fox so quickly Jane didn’t have time to protest.

Jane turned to Gran. “Now what?” Edward was a bird and loved it too much. Gifford was a horse and wouldn’t try to fix it. Gracie and Gran could change at will and didn’t see why Jane couldn’t.

Jane didn’t see why she couldn’t change, either.

“Now you try again,” Gran said. “Or I’ll turn into a skunk and spray you.”

She closed her eyes. She imagined herself being a ferret. She put her whole heart into it.

“You’re just making your nose twitch,” Gran said.

“Shh.” Jane pictured being ferret-like.

“Now you’re just crouching.”

Jane sighed, frustrated.

“Did you just meow?” Gran said.

Jane made fists and stomped her feet. She wanted to scream, but she refrained from saying anything except an earnest whisper. “I desperately, desperately want to be a ferret right now.”

But every time she checked, she was still a girl.

Jane was still a ferret when she awakened the following morning.

Because she had turned into a ferret . . . eventually. When the sun fell below the horizon. Just like before.

Gran and Gracie could ignore the evidence all they wanted, but Jane knew better. A curse was a curse.

She was curled up on the pillow next to Gifford’s head. He was snoring a little, so quietly it would have been nothing to her human ears, but her ferret ears were much better and he sounded like a thunderstorm. With a mind to make him stop, she stretched and bumped her nose against his eyelid.

He groaned and waved her away.

She bumped his eyelid again.

“That’s cold,” he grumbled.

She nipped his nose lightly.

He sat up with a start, definitely awake now. “My lady! If you wanted to wake me, you’ve succeeded. But you don’t have to take off my nose.” He was grinning, though.

Jane made a low chuckling noise and danced across the bed, the mattress giving an extra spring to her jumping.

“Most undignified, my darling. But quite charming.” Gifford laughed and excused himself from the room. “I’ll return once you’ve changed.”

A few minutes later she became a girl again. Just like that: the sun was coming up, and she changed without even trying. It was mystifying that she was still, after all this time, completely unable to control her E?ian self.

She’d only just managed to get all the pieces of her secondhand dress in their proper places when Gifford knocked and came back into the chamber.

“Need help with the laces?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” She turned so he could access the ribbons along the back of her gown.

He swept her tumble of red hair over her shoulder, his hand lingering there for a moment before he saw to the fastening of her gown. “Anything for my wife.”

She was coming to like that word—wife. Especially the way he said it.

“So what’s the plan for today?” he asked as he fastened a hook at the top of the gown, his fingers brushing the skin between her shoulder blades. Jane shivered. “Are we storming any castles?”

“No, but we’re starting our long journey to France tomorrow. So we need to pack.”

“I wasn’t aware that we had any possessions that would need packing.” He pulled the laces tight, but not too tight. She appreciated that.

“Bess is arranging for a finer gown for me to wear,” Jane explained. “For the French court. Edward says he wants me with him when he makes his appeal to the king.”

Gifford cleared his throat. “Ah. I see. Edward wants you with him.” He finished with her dress quickly and stepped back. “There.”

“It makes sense that I should be there, in case I’m needed to validate Edward’s story.”

“Yes, of course,” he said stiffly. His expression was suddenly blank. “The sun’s almost up. I should go.”

She followed him as he made his way outside. “Wait, G—”

“Have a good day, my lady,” he said, and jogged off, pulling at his clothes.

“Have a good day,” she called after him lamely.

Then he was a horse. She watched him trot through the gardens and jump a low section of the crumbling wall.

She sighed.

Gifford had been acting strangely since they’d escaped London. For the most part, he was warm and affectionate with her. He teased her, but never with an intent to hurt her feelings. He often held her hand. He called her pet names, like “my darling” and “my sweet.” Those things shouldn’t have had such an effect on her, but they did. Being with him made her breath come quicker and her heart pound and her palms get all clammy. It made her wish she could remain human all the time so that they could stay together.