It’s a strange schedule for a girl who grew up on a farm—even one who spent the first lean years of scouting by playing barmaid in local taverns as she traveled.
We’re in the middle of our fifth meal now, and I’m gorging myself on little cubes of a yellow tropical fruit that wouldn’t be available right now anywhere but here. It’s exceptionally good, and I continue to sneak pieces, but only when no one is looking—I don’t want to look like a glutton, after all.
Adeline, Elizabetta, and Minerva discuss whether lightweight velvets are appropriate for spring couture. Elizabetta absently strokes the queen’s darling amethyst munchkin dragon on her lap. The beast is named Mirabella, and she’s the tiniest thing, the size of a petite female cat. Her eyes are emerald, and the scales on her snout are a darker purple, giving her an adorable little nose stripe like a horse.
She’s not fond of strangers, which is a shame because I want nothing more than to whisk her from Avery’s sister and carry her about the room.
Sebastian sits in the corner, reading to avoid being drawn into conversation, and Lady Claire badgers Avery about his health. The captain sits on an upholstered bench, looking as if he’s about to go out of his mind from boredom. We’ve been in Teirn for three days, and the captain is already growing restless. Sebastian’s words come back to haunt me, but I try not to think about them.
As I idly listen to the conversations and sneak more of the fruit, I wander the room. Her Majesty has a lovely collection of antiques, including a Milindrian vase that’s several hundred years old. I pause in front of it, admiring the design’s careful brush strokes. It must be worth ten thousand denats, at the very least.
“All I’m saying is that you need to see a proper physician, not a jack-of-all-trades ship’s mage,” Lady Claire insists.
She’s been harping on the captain for the last half hour, and it’s not the first time it’s come up.
“And I’m saying that I politely, and firmly, decline,” Avery answers.
“I do not think—”
Avery stands abruptly, drawing my attention from the vase. “We’re done with this conversation, Grandmother.”
The entire room goes silent. Lady Claire purses her lips, looking as if it’s taking a great deal of effort not to argue further. She flicks her hand in the air. “Fine. If you are content with subpar care, then I suppose there is nothing more to discuss.”
And there isn’t, at least not at the moment, because a fidgety looking serving man knocks on the frame of the open door. We all turn, some of us more thankful for the intrusion than others.
“Captain Greybrow, my lord, a…er…delivery has been sent from your ship.”
Avery cocks his head to the side. “What is it? And who sent it?”
The man doesn’t answer. Instead, he gestures for a boy to step forward from behind him. Unfortunately for the boy, he’s pulling a familiar lesser dragon who refuses to come into the room. Flink stands outside the door, haunches lowered like an obstinate donkey, and he digs his talons into the carpet runner.
Because I’ve just stuffed a few more squares of fruit into my mouth, I’m forced to chew and swallow a little too quickly.
“Flink!” I manage after a moment. “He’s supposed to be on the ship!”
Flink immediately softens his stance upon hearing my voice and trots merrily into the room.
Mirabella takes one look at my dragon, leaps onto Minerva’s lap, useless wings all aflutter, and hisses through her tiny, sharp teeth. Flink focuses on Mirabella, lowers his head, readying for the chase, and barrels into the room, dragging the startled handler behind him. The poor boy is probably used to well-behaved wolfhounds, not lesser dragons.
“Flink, no!” I holler as I lunge for him.
The queen screams as the two-hundred-pound dragon gallops toward her, full-speed. Luckily for Minerva, Flink’s top speed isn’t terribly impressive, as he’s still a bit young and clumsy. He slips on the hardwood floor, legs splaying out in all directions. Before we can catch him, however, he rights himself. Mirabella lets out a horrid noise and begins to claw her way up Minerva’s shoulder, onto the queen’s perfectly coiffed hair.
The boy, who possibly weighs eighty pounds soaking wet, tries to hold Flink back, but he’s barely able to keep his feet on the floor. Flink reaches Mirabella before I can grasp his tether.
The tiny amethyst dragon shrieks again, leaps off Minerva’s head—thank goodness, and races across the back of the settee. Like a cat, she makes a great leap for a nearby bookcase. The tiny dragon almost misses, and her taloned back feet work furiously as she pulls herself up.
Avery, who’s also in pursuit of my horrid pet, changes direction at the same time as I do. I go left, and he makes to cut the dragon off by going right, behind the bench. We crash into each other and knock into a vase. The vase. In horrifying slow motion, it rocks back and forth. Just as I’m grasping for it, it crashes to the ground and breaks into shards.
Avery grabs Flink just before the dragon leaps up on the bookcase. The sounds of chaos fade, soaking into the rugs and drapes and upholstered finery, and all is silent except Mirabella’s low, warning hisses.
I stare at what used to be the vase when someone loudly clears his throat from the room’s entrance.
Lord Selden Thane, Sebastian’s one and only grandfather, stands by the door. His eyes are trained solely on me, and he wears his usual disdainful expression. “Creating pandemonium, Lucia? I suppose some things never change.”
A ball of lead settles into my stomach. What’s he doing here? And he had to arrive just now?
The man’s timing is impeccable, as always.
Adeline leaps to her feet and curtsies. “Lord Thane! What a pleasure to see you!”
“Yes, Selden. A pleasure.” Lady Claire pulls her eyes away from the remains of the priceless treasure on the floor and looks at the man who’s still lingering near the doorway.
Lord Thane bows to the queen, keeping his balance despite his cane. “Your Majesty.”
“Welcome, Lord Thane.” Minerva appears quite harried. She’ll probably have to spend the next day in bed, just to recover from the scene. Breathless, she turns to the waiting servant. “Fetch someone to clean the mess.”
He bows and disappears into the hall.
“To what do we owe the honor?” Lady Claire asks her brother.
The older man eyes his sister and then moves his steely gaze to his grandson. “I was along the coast, and I received word Sebastian had returned from his hastily-executed holiday.”
To Sebastian’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch. “Hello, Grandfather.”
“Imagine my surprise when I learned you greeted my sister before notifying me of your return. And I have been so concerned for your safely these last months.”
“I sent a message when we arrived, but seeing as how you’re not in Silverleaf, it’s understandable how it did not make it to you.”
I gawk at the exchange. The two are obviously at odds, and Sebastian isn’t leaping to smooth Lord Thane’s ruffled feathers like he usually does.
“Yes, well,” Lord Selden says, tapping his walking stick on the floor twice. “I am returning to Reginae this afternoon, and you may ride with me.”
Adeline, who’s still standing after her greeting, very slowly sinks into her seat next to Elizabetta, trying not to draw attention to herself.
Sebastian clasps his hands behind his back. “I’m afraid I still have business in Teirn. I will return to Reginae when I’ve settled it.”
The elder lord’s jaw twitches, and the room grows quiet enough Mirabella’s low growls are audible again.
Avery ends up breaking the silence. He strides forward, hand extended. “Uncle Selden. Good to see you.”
Lord Thane’s eyes light up with genuine surprise. “Surely you are not young Avery?”
“I am, sir.”
“Your grandmother says you are a captain now, like your father. Impressive, especially for one your age.” He glances
at Sebastian before he looks back to Avery. “It’s good to see a young man with direction.”
They shake hands, and Sebastian leans against the back of Adeline’s settee, looking about ready to murder something.
Avery, too, glances Sebastian’s way and bites back a rotten smirk as he looks back at Lord Thane. “I think it’s important to have direction in one’s life. A plan, a purpose.”
Lord Thane nods heartily, as if finding a kindred spirit.
Oh, if you only knew, Lord Thane.
“I could not agree more. Sebastian, you could learn a thing or two from your cousin.”
Sebastian grips the back of the couch, and his knuckles turn white. Adeline covers his hand with her own and puts on a pained smile.
“Once you figure out what you want in life,” Avery says as he slowly pins me with his eyes. “You must not let anything, or anyone, stand in your way. Isn’t that right, Lucia?”
The room goes up at least ten degrees. I gulp and resist the urge to snatch Adeline’s fan from the side table.
“Lucia never lets people, rules, or consequences stand in her way.” Lord Thane laughs like my only purpose in life is to entertain those higher in social ranking with my misadventures. “Do you, Lucia?”
I force a smile.
Avery narrows his eyes, not caring for the exchange. “I suppose that’s why King Harold is holding a soirée in her honor this Saturday.”
“Our honor, Captain Greybrow,” I murmur as I watch Lord Selden’s eyes grow large. He looks like he was smacked across the face with a week-old fish.
It’s rather satisfying.
“News hasn’t traveled to you yet, Lord Thane?” the queen asks, her expression perfectly friendly but her voice tinged with irritation. “Lucia is a siren slayer—my husband’s new favorite adventuress. She and Captain Greybrow are being honored for their service to the crown. It’s all anyone in Teirn can talk about.”
That’s not entirely true, but the look on Lord Thane’s face is priceless.
“Oh, Selden,” Lady Claire says after several long moments, steering the conversation to a more neutral subject. “Madam Lavinia is in Teirn. She’s performing tomorrow.”
“You must come,” Minerva says, brightening considerably.
Beside me, Avery grimaces. I give him a curious look, and he leans close. “If there were a good time to contract food poisoning, it would be tomorrow.”
Before I can ask him what he means, the serving man returns with a maid. She makes quick work of the broken vase with a simple levitation spell. With the wave of her hand, the mess rises off the floor and settles into a dustpan. Easy as can be.
That’s a clever trick.
“Frederick?” Avery asks the man when he is finished supervising the cleanup. “Why was the dragon sent?”
I almost forgot about Flink, but my eyes move to him now. Avery’s still holding him by his lead. Given no choice, Flink lies on the floor, his head resting between his two front feet, looking mopey. Mirabella continues to glare at him from her perch atop the bookcase, but at least she’s stopped hissing.
Frederick glances about the room, unsure how to answer. “He was said to be causing havoc, Captain.”
“Havoc?”
Frederick clears his throat. “If I understand correctly, the beast barricaded himself in your cabin, pilfered every piece of gold from your private collections, piled them on the bed, and claimed the area as his own. With the snarling and snapping and breathing of elemental fire, the crew became uneasy and thought it best if he were returned to his…” He looks at me and clears his throat again. “Lucia.”
Without a word, Avery flicks me the beast’s lead.
I take it and attempt a smile, but I probably look like I have indigestion. “I’m sure he was just…lonely.”
Avery raises a brow, both amused and irritated. I’m not sure which emotion is winning.
The room goes quiet, and I feel as if every set of eyes is on me.
I clear my throat and look toward Queen Minerva—but not quite at her as I can’t seem to meet her eyes. “I’ll replace your vase.”
CHAPTER NINE
Quite the Catch
I wince as Madame Lavinia hits a note that could shatter glass. A quick glance around me confirms that I am not the only one less than impressed with the performance. My companions and the royal entourage watch the songstress with varying degrees of polite, intrigued expressions. Elizabetta, however, keeps glancing at Sebastian’s pocket watch, which he finally let the girl borrow after she asked for the time one too many times.
She looks bored to tears.
I cringe again at another loud, shrill note. This must surely be the woman’s finale. Please let it be over.
She’s going to hurt herself.
The note cuts off, and the open-air auditorium goes blissfully silent. My ears still ring. Around me, the intimate crowd—the elite of Teirn’s elite—leap to their feet, bursting into riotous applause. I follow suit, grateful the ordeal is over.
But to my great horror, the woman sweeps back onstage, curtsying and throwing kisses at the audience. Then her stringed players begin anew.
No.
Avery leans close. “It’s called an encore.”
“It’s called torture of a cruel and unusual nature,” I whisper back.
He grins and then makes a face as the woman reaches heights that have, until this point, never been attained by anything other than a tea kettle. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m familiar with the distress call made by rabbits.
And then the song ends, and this time, the songstress doesn’t return to the stage. I could cry tears of joy, but I must hide my relief from the other members of our party.
Minerva dabs her eyes with the tips of her long white gloves, as overcome as I am, but for completely different reasons. “It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” she says to no one in particular.
Adeline agrees, sighing. “I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
Neither have I.
The queen grasps Adeline’s hand. “I will never forget the first time I heard Madame Lavinia sing.”
I’m certain they were only two seats down. Did they perhaps hear a different performance?
Other members of the party join the conversation as we make our way down our row of stone seats. Serving staff wait patiently by, ready to collect the cushions they brought to line the royal rumps. I can’t complain about that—they brought me one too.
We are the first to leave. The rest of the courtiers wait for the queen’s party. Our progress is slowed dramatically because Minerva feels the need to stop often and speak with people. Right now, she’s clasping the hands of an elderly woman, beaming at her as they talk about the performance. I take a moment to get a better look at the amphitheater. Mages have cast orbs of light into the sky, and they form a softly glowing canopy that competes with the stars.
The open-air auditorium is impressive, built entirely from gray stone on a hill that lies to the north east of the city. The structure is sunk into the ground, so the top row of seats is flush with the earth. The rows form an arc around the stage. The whole structure is at the heart of Teirn’s botanical gardens, and it feels older than Teirn. There is history here, and many of the trees feel ancient. They embrace the theater, protecting it. Other nearby structures dot the gardens—statues and gazebos and stone benches. It’s a maze of hedge rooms and secret nooks.
I think of the king’s talk of goblins lurking nearby, and I glance at the overgrown perimeter of the theater. Guards line the edges, looking stoic in their scarlet and gold tabards, armed with their gleaming swords. It does seem like an awful lot of protection for an evening performance.
I’d like to visit again in summer when the gardens are in full bloom. For now, they are asleep, and the mages seem hesitant to tamper with the flora here. There are a few earthen pots of flowers, more pansies that enjoy the cool weather, but the great stretches of beds are untouched.
We reach the top of the amphitheater and step into the courtyard that surrounds it. More lights have been cast into the sky, and waitstaff hold silver trays of refreshments. I take it all in, sure I’ll never be invited to something like this again. As I’m looking about, movement in the trees catches my attention. I narrow my eyes and take a step forward. Whatever it was is either gone now or has hidden itself very well. But maybe I’ll take a look.
Adeline nudges me in the side just as I’m about to step away and hisses quietly, “Pay attention.”
I turn back and find a waiter in front of me, patiently waiting for me to accept a drink from his tray. I thank him and then glance over my shoulder at the trees.
Queen Minerva accepts a silver flute from another waiter, and with a smile and a soft word of thanks, she turns to us. “I would like to propose a toast to new friends” —she first nods to Adeline, Sebastian, and me, and then, in turn, nods toward the rest of our group, lingering on Avery and grinning in a familiar way that makes me a bit uncomfortable— “and old friends.”
Watching the rest of the group for clues, I raise my flute.
“I am so pleased you could all join me this evening.” She directs her charming smile right at Avery.
He nods in response—not in an overly friendly way…but not distant either.
“Cheers!” She bobs her drink in the air and then takes a demure sip. We all follow her lead.
“Lucia,” Gerard says, turning toward me. “You mustn’t divulge too many details, or Harold will be sorely disappointed that we didn’t wait until his soirée, but you must tell us—did you truly slay three sirens?”
I clear my throat, uncomfortable to be put on the spot. “I did.”
Wildwood Larkwing (Silver and Orchids Book 3) Page 6