“Doesn’t matter what kind of wand you have. You’ll never be as powerful as me.” The slick grin spread over Geindride’s face again.
“What would I have to do if I was queen?” Mae plopped into the upholstered chair as though she didn’t have a care in the world.
The wizard turned quickly and knelt by her side, his eyes wide. “Does that mean you will accept my offer?”
“What will Huldfrejya do when she discovers that I’ve taken her place?”
Geindride shook his head. “Locked in the dungeon, there is nothing she can do.”
Mae shrugged and let the smile on her face convince the wizard that she was pleased the queen was in the dungeon. Well, she was pleased. Not for the reasons the wizard was thinking, but because she wouldn’t have any trouble getting to her once she found the comb. She peeked at the gargoyle over the mantel. He looked pleased as well, with his large, toothy smile. “Can I have the night to think about it?”
“I suppose I can accommodate that,” Geindride said as he stood. “Now, let’s celebrate with dinner!” He clapped his hands and the fire roared to life. More candles lit up the room and the chamber was spotless. The bed curtains were mended, the broken pane of glass had been replaced, and the copper tub shone.
“How did you get the room so clean?” Mae asked.
“Poppy cleaned it for you,” Geindride answered. As if on cue, Poppy strolled through the door with a giant tray of food and dropped it on the table between the two chairs.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Maewyn?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her tone told Mae that she didn’t think anything was wonderful.
“Poppy! Your braids!” Mae gasped.
Poppy ran her hands down the silky lengths. “Geindride made my hair grow back. And he is going to bring all of the hapennies to the castle to live. And you are going to be our queen. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Mae searched Poppy’s smirking face. Behind the regrown hair, the scattering of freckles, and the bright white teeth, there was something very wrong.
“Yes.” Mae forced a smile. “It is wonderful news, isn’t it?”
“To us!” Geindride picked up a full goblet of wine and tossed it down, then began to pick at the offerings from the tray. The hard-boiled eggs still steamed, the roast beef glistened with oily goodness, the carrots shone bright orange, and the potatoes were cooked to perfection.
Maewyn’s stomach rumbled. Poppy shoved a plate at her and piled it with food. Mae had been so hungry since they’d arrived at the castle. She picked up a slice of meat and gobbled it down. She shoveled in potatoes and carrots and ate full eggs in one mouthful. Her stomach was full to bursting and the platters were empty of anything but scraps of potato skins when she stopped.
“Well, a hapenny’s appetite is legendary, but I really had no idea,” Geindride said. His hands were poised above his plate, fork and knife frozen in midair. The bewildered look on his face was almost comical.
“Are you going to eat that?” Mae pointed to the pile of vegetables left on his plate. He set his utensils down and pushed his plate toward her. After Mae ate his vegetables too, she smiled contentedly. “There is a lot you have no idea about when it concerns hapennies, I’d wager.”
“Well, hopefully we’ll have time for you to teach me…if you accept my offer.” Geindride wiped his hands on a linen square. He unfolded himself from the chair and stood. “I think I will leave you to your bath, then, and your bed. Good eventide, Maewyn. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” Mae said. She watched him stroll from the room, uneasiness in his gait. The full moon was just rising, flooding the candlelit room with an eerie white glow. Poppy ambled around her, clearing the dishes. As she placed them on the serving cart by the window, the pale moon revealed the magick surrounding her friend. Her hair, what was left of it, was a tangled mess, her travel clothes stained and torn. Mae turned to the bed. The moon revealed the tattered state of the bed curtains and the broken panes in the windows. Poppy had not cleaned the room or mended the curtains. All of it was disguised with a leyna charm. Geindride had seriously underestimated her.
“Shall I draw us a bath, Poppy?” Mae asked.
Poppy turned from the window. She sneered. “Us?”
Mae nodded. “Don’t you think we could both use one?”
Poppy turned her back on Mae. “No.”
Mae snapped her fingers and the mop bucket burst into action. Later, as the water steamed in the kettle over the fire, Poppy sulked in the corner. Mae pushed the chair over to the hearth. It scraped and skidded across the floor. As she climbed up onto the seat, she saw Geindride through the window, flying down the path into the forest with an army of trolls at his heels. Now was her chance.
Chapter 17
The moon was rising when Peck wheeled off the road and onto a smaller two-track path. There was a clearing to the right that looked as though it had been used as a campsite by many travelers, and not too long ago. Peck had veered off the main road to Larissa, though, which meant that Mae and the others had not even made it that far.
“Prithee halt, good giant!” Brynjar called.
River Weed Starr stopped and turned, crouching low to speak with the soldier. Peck alighted on a branch of one of the trees growing from his back. “Yes?”
“My men and horses, they must rest. We’ve traveled this road before. There is nothing but ruins at the end of it. Perchance the owl is confused.”
Leif peeked around the Colm’s shoulder.
“Rest, sleep, seize forty winks?” the giant asked. He looked past Colm at Leif.
Leif didn’t want to stop, but he knew the horses needed to cool down and rest. They had ridden steadily all afternoon and half the night, and he was hungry. Aletta’s voice echoed in his head—trust Peck, get some sleep. He nodded at the giant. “Yes, we should rest, and let the horses rest as well.”
Brynjar nodded his thanks to Leif. “We will pick up the owl’s path at first light. Everyone prepare camp.”
Colm twisted to grab Leif’s arm and help him down from the tall horse. His legs were stiff, his backside hurt from the saddle rubbing, and his face was chapped from the cold. His nose twitched at the smell of snow in the air.
Beau uncurled from Leif’s jacket pocket where he’d snuggled when he got tired of watching the road. He bounded off into the woods, scavenging for acorns and other treats. Leif stretched and dumped his knapsack by a fallen log. He began to collect twigs and dry underbrush to help feed the fire one of the soldiers was building. He dumped the kindling next to the soldier and watched in fascination as the camp went up quickly. Everyone seemed to have a job and know exactly what to do. Soon tents were raised in a circle around the fire. The rabbits that had been strung from the soldier’s saddle were gutted, skinned, speared, and hung over the flames to cook. River Weed Starr had taken a seat at the edge of the camp and blended so well into the forest that if you didn’t know he was there…well, if Leif hadn’t seen his eyes reflecting the firelight, he wouldn’t have known he was there.
Grabbing his knapsack from where he’d dropped it by the log, Leif pulled out the chunk of cheese and broke it in pieces. He offered a piece to Colm as he sat next to the soldier. “Here, this will stave off your hunger as we wait for the rabbits to cook.”
Colm accepted the cheese, and the two ate in silence, watching the flickering flames. When he’d eaten the cheese, Leif pulled out his knife and the stick Peck had given him earlier in the day. He whittled the stick down so that one end was thinner than the other. Curls of wood piled up at his feet. He turned the stick. It had a nice weight and balance to it. It felt good in his hand. The fatter end reminded him of the shape of Peck, and suddenly, he knew he should carve an owl in the one end—it was only fitting, since she was the one who had brought him the stick. He blocked out the basic shape and then started to carve her head and wings.
Brynjar startled him when he sat next to Leif and offered a leg of rabbit. “Here, eat this,
young hapenny. You’ll need your strength.”
“And goodness knows we’ve heard of the tales of hapennies and their great appetites,” Colm added.
“Thank you.” Leif took the meat gratefully and bit into the tender flesh. The sweet flavor infused his senses and made his mouth water. “Is there any more?”
Brynjar laughed. “No, sorry.”
Leif’s shoulders fell. “That’s all right.” He dug through his food sack. “Lavender honey muffin?”
Brynjar took it from his hand. “My mother used to make these.”
Leif offered the other muffin to Colm as he bit into the last one. “She doesn’t make them anymore?” he said through a mouthful.
“Oh, I’m sure she does. My father liked to eat almost as much as a hapenny.”
Colm snorted and blew crumbs. “Almost? That’s an understatement.”
Brynjar smiled. “He was quite handy when it came to baking, my father.”
“Sounds like my kind of man,” Leif said. He swallowed and, before taking the last bite of muffin, stared at his feet. “Can I ask you something, Brynjar?”
“You can ask me anything,” Brynjar said.
“He just might not answer you,” Colm added.
“What did the giant mean when he said he knew about you and your mission?” Leif asked.
All grew quiet when Leif asked his question. River Weed Starr gazed at them from the far edge of camp, his eyes half-closed. The full moon lit the meadow and the faces of the men gathered around the fire. Etched into their expressions was the sadness of a weary existence. The fire popped and crackled. The smoke made a curving trail upward, like the curl of a dragon’s tail.
“How much do you know about the Trillium War?” Brynjar asked.
“Little,” Leif answered. “Only that hapennies and wizards fought alongside humans against the trolls, and the humans won, but the princess was stolen under their noses and never returned.”
“The princess, Hilda, she was my betrothed. We were to form an alliance between the human and the wizarding world.”
“You are a wizard?” Leif asked.
“Not really. I was never very good at it. But my mother is a fabulous wizard,” Brynjar said.
“So, you are the son of a wizard and you were supposed to marry the princess?” Leif asked. He shifted on the mossy log and dug his knife into his carving, pulling out a small chunk at the top of the head to make the ear tufts stand out.
“That’s right. I swore to King Huldhill, her father, that I would not rest until I had found her and brought her back to him. I can’t go home, nor can I move on until I do. That is my mission.”
Leif blew the dust from his carving. The owl’s eyes seemed to blink up at him. “And you’ve been looking for her since the end of the war?”
“Yes. I’ve lost track of the years,” Brynjar said.
“Fifteen,” Colm sighed. “Fifteen winters we’ve scoured this land—from the Near Mountains to the Emerald Lake and back again. Not a trace is to be found of her.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe she was being hidden by magick?” Leif asked.
Brynjar stared at him with piercing brown eyes. “There have been no wizards around since the split in the Trillium War.”
“What do you mean?” Leif rubbed his thumb over the owl carving. How was that possible when Callum and Aletta were in the Wedge right now?
“Magick was once thought of as a gift, for good purposes. That’s how I was raised. Wizards had gifts to help people—to help the world. The Trillium War taught us that not all wizards use their gifts for good.”
“Magick isn’t always good,” Leif repeated and hefted the stick in his hand, pretending that one of those bad wizards was in his sights, and gave it a good flick. The fire roared. Startled, Leif and the soldiers took cover. As Leif peered over the mossy log, River Weed Starr chuckled, a deep noise that sounded like a river bubbling over boulders.
“Looks like we have one more, another, a second hapenny wizard,” the giant said.
“You have magick?” Colm asked.
Leif shrugged and turned the owl wand in his hand. “I guess so.”
Brynjar chuckled. “You’d better get some sleep. Dawn comes soon enough.”
Leif turned the wand in his hand. His wand. His magick.
His mother was going to kill him.
Chapter 18
Mae reached for the gargoyle’s sharp teeth. He moaned as Mae pried the comb from his mouth. His teeth weren’t really teeth, but the teeth of a comb magicked to look like stone. She slipped it into her apron pocket.
“Ohhh,” the gargoyle moaned, working his sore jaw back and forth. “What took you so long to figure it out? I’ve been trying to tell you since you got here!”
“Really?” Mae arched an eyebrow at him.
“Great, now he’ll never shut up,” Poppy mumbled.
“Oh, never mind. It’s been ages since I could talk, or close my mouth, not since Geindride shoved that comb between my lips fifteen years ago. I’ve just been sitting up here, watching the years slowly pass, the ivy take over. Do you know what kind of torture that’s been?”
“I can imagine.” Mae crawled down from the chair and pushed it away from the hearth.
A sudden chill swept through the room. Mae wrapped her arms around herself.
“It might be too chilly for a bath tonight. Perhaps tomorrow,” Poppy said, twirling her hair around her finger.
“No. Throw some more wood on the fire, if you think it will help, but we are taking a bath tonight.” Mae pointed at her. “You first.”
“But you’re the new queen. You should take a bath first,” Poppy insisted.
“That’s right—I’m the queen, and you’ll do as I say. Don’t make me use magick on you, Poppy Burrbridge. Into the tub!” Mae flung her arm toward the copper bath and gave Poppy a look that said “don’t argue with me.” Poppy’s face screwed in anger, but she plodded across the room.
Mae turned her gaze sharply on the gargoyle, who began humming, avoiding any eye contact. “Now would be a good time to exercise the right to keep your mouth shut.”
Poppy scowled at Mae, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Don’t worry,” Mae said. “I can throw something over him for some privacy.”
She rummaged through the wardrobe and found a tattered black veil. Shoving the chair back over to the hearth, she climbed up and draped the fabric over the gargoyle.
“I don’t think this is at all necessary,” he mumbled.
“Perhaps not, but it makes Poppy feel better,” Mae said. She scrambled off the chair and pulled the steaming kettle of water off the fire.
“Give me your clothes, Poppy.” Mae held out her hand.
“What are you going to do with them?” Poppy shivered as she shoved her clothes at Mae and slowly stepped into the tub.
Mae dropped the clothes by the fire and poured some of the warm water from the kettle into the tub. “Better?”
Poppy wouldn’t even look at her.
“You wash your body and I’ll wash your hair.” Mae could see the enchantment loosening its grip already. Poppy’s shoulders were no longer hunched, and the scowl on her face was slipping away. She cupped water into her hands and poured it onto Poppy’s head. Then she took the soap from the little gilt tray hanging on the side of the tub and lathered it into Poppy’s hair. Mae scrubbed the dirt and dust from it and then took the comb from her apron pocket and sighed. “I hope this works.”
Mae pulled the teeth through the tangles, and the magicked braid disappeared, leaving half of Poppy’s head shorn from Huldfrejya’s scissors and the other half still plaited—but messy. Mae loosened the plaiting on the remaining braid as her friend sobbed. She pulled the comb through the remaining tangles, then rinsed it and dropped it in her pocket before rinsing Poppy’s head as best she could. Poppy grabbed the soap and began washing her feet and legs, hands and arms. Mae breathed a sigh of relief as Poppy took over the scrubbing and dun
ked herself under the water. As Poppy emerged freshly washed and pink, she threw her arms around Mae.
“Thank you, Mae,” she said. “It was awful. I felt so awful. I didn’t mean any of those awful things I said.”
Mae hugged her back. “Just imagine what Huldfrejya feels likes after all these years.”
Poppy pulled away. “We must help her.”
“Do you know where those extra bedsheets went?”
Poppy chewed on her lip. “I think I put them in the trunk at the end of the bed.”
Mae scampered to the trunk, lifted the heavy lid, and grabbed a sheet. She wrapped Poppy in it as she stepped from the tub shivering.
Just then the door to the chamber flew open.
“Geindride has taken all the trolls. I fear he is—” Tory yelled as he skidded to a halt in the room. His eyes took in Poppy, freshly washed and lit by the firelight. Poppy’s cheeks flushed pink and she ran her hand around her ear, tucking an imaginary strand of hair behind it.
Mr. Whiteknoll, Cook Barley, Bailey, Thorain, Horace, and the rest of the hapennies from the dungeon crowded the hallway behind him.
Tory turned an amazing shade of red as he turned away. “I apologize, P-Poppy. I didn’t mean to walk in on you…”
“Oh, sure!” the gargoyle scoffed. “He can be in the room, but I have to be covered like an inappropriate statue in a public garden!”
The other men cleared their throats and turned their backs too.
“Who is that talking?” Bailey asked.
“The gargoyle above the mantel,” Poppy said. “He talks.”
Mae saw Tory’s mouth twitch into a smile before he turned serious again. “Geindride took all the trolls out of the castle. I heard one of them say something about another party of travelers.”
“I know; I saw them leave. We don’t have much time.” Mae crossed the room to get a shift and dress out of the wardrobe, then turned and handed them to Poppy. “I know they aren’t our clothes, but until we can find our travel bags, this will have to do.”
Poppy nodded and pulled the shift over her head, followed by the dress. The sleeves flowed over her hands, and the hem pooled around her feet. Mae pulled her wand out. “Mend and patch, cut and sew, shrink the clothes, no need to grow.”
Tangled Magick Page 12
