Silver Hollow

by Jennifer Silverwood

  Emrys’ delay made her turn back to him. He stared into the light as it pulsed violet rays, dancing over his face. “The telling of this tale is not my place. I can tell ye this, however. The night ye were attacked, a bond was made betwixt us. Irrevocable it is. You should know the mending of souls changes people. You and I will never be capable of seeing the other without the pull of it.”

  She froze when he caressed the light again, felt the echo of his touch from her shoulder to her neck. Evidence of what he said was plain to see. If she hadn’t been psyching out constantly the last couple of days over Henry’s absence she might have thought of it a lot sooner. Sadly enough, as much as this made her resent him all the more, she felt sorry for Emrys. It made her words soft. “Why make a bond with someone you don’t even know? Why did you save my life?”

  He grinned, showing all of his white, slightly pointed teeth. “I brought you here to show you the enemy ye have not met. This is what they will do to you, Jessamiene.” He spread his hands wide to the ruins.

  Facts lay before her now she could better understand. The pull Emrys had on her was magical, sort of. He healed her, had to do some little bonding ceremony to seal the deal and let her inside his head in the process. It explained the strange attraction and why whenever they touched she was almost willing to allow him anything.

  But why risk so much without any kind of payment in return?

  She was certain Uncle Henry didn’t know about their bond or he wouldn’t have let Emrys be this close to her. She was torn now, with half a mind to avoid him just to keep her head clear or to play his game until he told her everything.

  Chapter 28

  Dastardly Villainess

  Amie was forced to endure dinner with Morcant Hogswillow, gold-digger and black widow extraordinaire. In light of Emrys’ latest lesson, she was more wary than ever of strangers in their midst. Hadn’t Underhill, Slaine and Emrys all hinted that Morcant was tied to the ones who wanted her dead? Henry had revealed little, but Amie had already made up her mind about a few things.

  Morcant was powerful and therefore must have friends in high and low places, enough influence that Henry couldn’t ignore her invitation without consequences. These friends of hers obviously wanted to add Wenderdowne to their monopoly and Amie was somehow the missing piece of the puzzle.

  If she’s expecting a naïve American, you better play the part, girlfriend.

  Rallying her best Texan accent and not even bothering to change out of Dearg’s borrowed gift, she flounced into the rarely used Dining Hall. Henry turned at her entrance, pausing in mid-laughter and leaning away from her. Clicking her black-nailed fingers together, Morcant shrieked and bounced up and down in her seat as Amie approached them.

  “Jessamiene!” Uncle Henry was the first to address her, motioning for Underhill to pour them more gooseberry juice. “’Bout time you arrived, my dear. Morcant was just reminding me of our childhood summers spent in the Vale.”

  “Ooh dear, Henry, let’s not bore the poor lass with such woebegone days. Do join us, Jessamiene! Cook has made a delightful dish of chopped venison and brimplerose leaves.”

  As Amie took her seat at Henry’s other side she realized she would be forced to face their guest the rest of the evening. Therefore, any foul feelings she felt for the wench needed to be kept hidden behind her fake smile.

  Underhill leaned over to pour more juice in Morcant’s goblet, fury hidden in her sweet round face. Amie couldn’t hide her grin. Yet Henry’s eyes held her from her mockery.

  He actually wants this to work? What happened to avoiding her? She’s been his stalker all these years.

  Morcant Hogswillow was the most beautiful creature Amie had ever seen. Her brown eyes burned yellow as candlelight, her voluminous curls were the luster of chestnuts and piled high on her head in their sapphire net. Between dainty bites, she told Amie, “Oh, you simply are as darling a creature as Henry described! I had no idea of your being so grown up! Henry, she is positively frazzleging!”

  Amie deepened her smile, saying, “And I had no idea you would be so pretty either, madam.”

  Morcant’s honey eyes flashed all the fury of a dark angel, recognizing Amie’s veiled jab, before a shrill laugh escaped her painted lips. Clapping her hands together, she crowed, “Holy wicklewashers! You never told me she could be this amusing, milord.”

  “From her father’s side, I believe,” Henry offered lightheartedly. He piffled around with the food on his plate, and Morcant twitched perceptively at the obvious put-off.

  Their eyes met at this intermission and Amie’s smile seemed to unnerve the small woman’s confidence. Amie cocked an eyebrow in challenge, to which Morcant sat straighter in her high-backed chair and tucked her chin. Slipping her perfectly manicured black nails from the glass goblet, she moved her hand to rest over Henry’s arm, all the while keeping her dark eyes locked on Amie’s.

  “Henry, darling, don’t you think it is time we shared my plans for tomorrow with her?” Henry’s spoon tipped and liquid sloshed from its edges when she squeezed his arm subtly. Turning to face her, he motioned with his free hand.

  “By all means, Lady Hogswillow, you may tell her.” While Morcant’s attention was diverted, Henry caught Amie’s eye and sent her a silent apology.

  This is so sad! Like watching a rich lady stroking her poodle…Amie shivered at the image of Henry with a prince crown on his head. Morcant, meanwhile, was droning on about Silver Hollow. What was she saying?

  “—simply adore those delightful midget hobgoblins…Rado is my tailor, only the finest for the ball we’re throwing for you. Isn’t that what I told him, Henry?”

  Amie choked on her stew. “Ball? Uncle Henry, what’s she talking about?” Panic and recollections of her failed high school dances pranced around her mind.

  Morcant answered for him, of course, after another squeeze of her uncle’s arm. “Why, it is customary for young ladies of a certain breeding to come out in society. The others were scandalized to learn your uncle has been keeping you here, locked away all these years! And to think, this is the reason you’ve not allowed me to host a party since Drustan left!”

  Henry removed his arm carefully, the firm lines in his face taking on a hard edge as he interrupted her rant. “I assure you, my lady, had I desired the pleasure of your company, I would have sought it out long before now.” Morcant sank into her chair, obviously deflated. Amie wanted to grin over her in triumph for the appearance of Henry’s belated backbone. The thought of dancing in public, of being paraded again before people she could barely stomach, made her soup turn sour.

  “Uncle, do we have to have a ball? I’m not exactly Ginger Rogers.”

  “Ginger? Was she a Spice Girl, then?” Henry asked with perfect seriousness and seemed glad of her distraction. “As Lady Hogswillow said before, it is a long and upstanding tradition, Jessamiene. Do not fear. It’s a lot of parading for a host of pretentious peacocks, but you’ll endure it.” Grimly, he added with a glance for their guest, “We all must endure certain social conventions, being what we are.”

  “I think I’m gonna be sick…” Amie groaned and placed a hand to her mouth. Setting her spoon gently aside, Amie pretended not to notice Morcant’s vicious smirk and bowed her head to Henry. “Forgive me, but I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Oh, you poor little bird… Underhill!” Morcant chirped, even though the stern maid was waiting but a few paces in the shadows.

  “Yes, milady,” Rachel said, attempting to mask her disdain for her temporary mistress.

  Morcant waved her napkin at Amie, false concern dripping from her lips. “Miss Jessamiene is ill and in need of one of your tonics. See to it she arrives safely to her rooms.”

  Rachel and Amie exchanged equal expressions of disbelief. The offended maid turned to her master and shut her gaping mouth at his nod in Amie’s direction.

  Her eyes narrowed in on his face as she set the napkin in her lap aside and stood. “Thank you for the lovely dinner, Un
cle. Lady Hogswillow, it has been a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh, you poor dear, you are most certainly welcome!” Morcant gushed with more comments over how precious Henry’s niece was. “Sweet pixies and dumplekins visit you in your dreams, Jessamiene. Tomorrow shall be a day of wiklewashing surprises!”

  …

  Underhill rounded on Amie the moment the dining hall door was shut. Grasping her white-capped hair, the maid blew air into her cheeks until her round face looked red as a beet. “Ooh, I could just—the nerve of the wench, prancing about as if she was mistress of Wenderdowne!” The last she said with a pointed look at Amie. Moving her hands to her face she groaned, “And ye had to wear that charlatan’s rag! I told Henry not to leave ye to yer own devices. Ye be positively unchangeable as a human.” She sighed, but smirked, tapping her finger to her chin reflectively. “’Twas delightful, though, seeing you make her squirm!”

  Amie laughed along with her, grateful she had managed to get through the meal, and now was convinced only one thing could soothe her frayed nerves.

  Underhill sighed audibly, saying, “Ye aren’t going to yer room, are ye, milady?”

  Holding her hands to her chest, Amie faked her outrage, replying, “And deny you the honor of serving Lady Hogswillow? But I guess you could walk to the kitchens with me. Alastair might want a second date.”

  “It was not a date! Ahem—milady,” Underhill huffed as they entered a hidden passage.

  …

  Amie dared Emrys to stalk her tonight, as she slipped through the darkened corridors of the West Wing. Her teacher hadn’t made an appearance all evening, and honestly, Amie could have cared less about seeing him again.

  Not after you caved in like a Gothic heroine!

  Tonight, she wanted to forget about complicated men and Morcant Hogswillow. She needed to vent to Feather in peace. Maybe she could even continue her research into Wenderdowne and ultimately, her father’s past. It was strange reading of such ancient times with the people she knew featured as the main characters. She was convinced someone must have worked for the family, some desperate author, who had fabricated these fantastical stories.

  She gravitated toward the light and felt she could breathe better already the closer to books she became. Books never tried to reach out and caress or grab her the way plants in the garden did.

  Stupid Emrys and his stupid lessons!

  Opening the door to meet the glow of the hearth and candlelight, Amie practically danced inside, and promptly bit back a scream. She was completely unprepared for the giant beast who squawked and in a shrill male voice growled, “You again?” For some reason she wasn’t surprised when he sounded a lot like Sean Connery.

  Amie dug her nails into her palms to keep from fainting this time. And rude as it was to stare, she couldn’t help her initial shock from seeing a gryphon calmly sitting on the floor writing in a book.

  Whoa…so not happening right now.

  Enough craziness was going around the castle with Morcant’s arrival and Emrys’s ghostly presence. The last thing Amie could have wanted or suspected was to meet a creature of legend. Gryphons were something Amie had heard and read about frequently under Henry’s education. But it was one thing to read about the impossible and believe it, quite another to have it glaring you in the face.

  Its body was massive, the size of an overfed lion, with great golden wings wrapped snugly like a cloak over its shoulders. Its tail swished testily in the air, feathers mingled with fur tufts on its back, gradually forming into a giant eagle head at the top. But what was most disconcerting about this gryphon was how much he looked like the stuffed gryphon head Amie had been confiding in the last few days.

  “Feather?” Amie asked under her breath, afraid to speak in case the beast chose to snap her head off.

  “Hm? What’s that?” the gryphon snapped with a twist of its mobile beak. As he rapped his hind claws on the floor, Amie’s eyes fixed on the stick-like pen poised between the digits of his left paw.

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “Well, you called me Feather, that’s what,” the gryphon said with a grimace. When she froze up he sighed and accidentally put out several nearby candles. “Come inside before you catch your death out there. Plenty of room by this fire, and I won’t bite, lass.”

  They watched one another carefully as she slowly sank beside him on the hearth rug.

  “So what are you doing here, then?” he asked. “I’ve been forced to hide away whilst you pilfer through my collection. And every night you leave me such a mess!” He gestured with a lion’s paw to the table to her right. It was very disconcerting to see his upper beak scarcely move, everything unhinged from his lower jaw when he spoke. His golden eyes flickered from her books and back again to her.

  Amie gaped and replied, “Um, sorry, I didn’t know I needed to put those away.” Judging from the gleam in the gryphon’s eye Amie could have sworn he saw right through her. Perhaps she had already known, in a way, someone else used the library. The golden feathers she had discovered matched the wings now tucked snugly against his lion’s back.

  The gryphon grumbled something under his breath then twitched to meet her gaze. “However, I must admit I was pleased to find so young a spirit visiting my cave. Perhaps we might share from this moment forward?” Though he had no eyebrows to speak of, the space above his eyes rose slightly, daring her to contradict him.

  She nodded in answer and after hesitating a moment, peered over at his perfectly rendered calligraphy. “Your work?” When she saw his surprise she offered, “I’m a writer too…or at least, I was before I came here.”

  “Hmm…I doubt any of us ever cease writing our stories, even if they are in our heads. What was it you called me earlier, when you were standing there about to piss your knickers, darling?”

  Amie couldn’t help her gaping jaw and choked on a laugh. “S-sorry, but you remind me of someone else I know. Guess the name sort of slipped.” If a gryphon could smile, this must be pretty close.

  “Feather, eh?” He tested the waters and Amie dipped her hand in with her smile. “I like it!” His voice boomed in the small enclosure and Amie jumped. “Aye, that is what you must call me, Jessamiene Wenderdowne. I always was fond of nicknames…”

  “How did you know my name?”

  “Why, everyone knows who you are, lass. Don’t you?”

  Shaking her head, she mused to herself. “Talking gryphons?”

  “Well, of course I can talk! Why not? You talked enough before as it is!” He chuckled after noticing her suspicious glare. Waving a clawed paw, he tossed his head at an inhuman angle. “Ach, never mind! All of my brothers hold a common eye, even those who have gone on before us. Helps us to keep things clear up here.” Tapping the side of his head with an extended claw he laughed again at her expression.

  “You heard all my conversations.” Amie groaned, beginning to discern the truth at long last. She should have known the stuffed eagle’s eyes looked too lively to be glass implants. But the fact that this gryphon was able to see through the eyes of all his kind intrigued her.

  “Aye, we did, and ’twas nothing to be ashamed of my dear. It is only fitting I aid you as my greatfeather did your great-granduncle Oberon.”

  “What did he do?”

  Feather shrugged and grinned. “Some grand gesture which gave him the honor of forever watching over Lord Oberon’s precious books, an honor I hope to achieve myself one day. Make no mistake about it, Jessamiene, knowledge is power and those books in your arms are only a ripple in the pool.”

  Amie paused and felt the familiar warmth fill her she had often felt talking to Feather’s mounted greatfeather. How often had she wished for the giant eagle’s head to come to life? Now she had her wish she knew better than to second-guess. Soon after, she set her books aside and sprawled out on the plush rug beside him to listen. Feather spun tales of the past like they had happened yesterday. Indeed he told her a gryphon could live much like their enemies the dragon
s had, forever if they wish it.

  “Things are stirring like they were before,” he began with a long-lost look in his golden eye. “And you were not born the way you were led to believe.”

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “Great, what else have they not told me?”

  Feather was delighted with her sharp tongue, and answered in kind. “You remember this castle, this room even, don’t you?” A cold feeling crept up her spine at his words and she recalled roaming the halls without any light. Her feet seemed to know where to take her at times.

  Feather added, letting his words stir around in her conscience, “What you have to ask yourself now is why you were made to forget.”

  Chapter 29

  Shall We Dance?

  The following morning, after a restless night filled with dreams of dancing gryphons and centaurs, Amie was awakened by a stream of constant humming. “So what turned you into a walking juke box?” Amie asked grumpily.

  Underhill grinned wildly and, with laughter in her eyes, set Amie’s breakfast tray on the bed beside her disgruntled mistress. “You are going to love what the Pixies have already done with the Ballroom, milady! ’Tis like a faerie palace with all its twinkling lights and baubles! Hmm…reminds me of the winter festival of seventeen…so lovely the Master was to dance with us lowly maids!” She sighed and began to hum a lost tune while pulling out Amie’s outfit for the day.

  Brushing her hair off of her face, Amie narrowed her eyes suspiciously on the little goblin. “Have you taken some of your own tonic or something?”

  Underhill stared at her as if she had said something particularly funny, “But milady, me own tonic doesn’t affect my kind a bit! Why would you inquire after such a curious thing?”

  “Maybe because you were dead set against Morcant last night, remember? Why are you suddenly all gung-ho about this ball?” Amie shuddered at the thought of being paraded in front of the snobbish elite of the area. Her father had tried to force her into polite society once before, and it hadn’t ended well for either of them.