Chapter Ten #2
I had to laugh. A comely cutpurse rapscallion. I couldn’t deny it. That got me a tangled set of slim golden eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, your mother is quite funny. So, she thinks me a wild onion? Do I look like an onion to you?”
“No. You look like an elf with stubby ears and pretty blue eyes like my papa’s.”
“Do you know why my eyes and your papa’s are the same?
” She shook her head, her brother growing bored with our discussion, so he climbed into Prescott’s lap to help the gentle giant whisper-read the bird book.
“Well, your father, the king, not your other father, the guard commander, we’re related by blood.
He’s my half-brother, which makes me your uncle. ”
Her eyes flared. “You look whole to me.”
“Yes, I am wholly whole, and not an onion. A half-brother means we share one parent but not two.” The fire spat and hissed as rain dripped down the flue into the flames.
“Al’fur and I have four parents,” she informed me as her brother’s head came to rest on Prescott’s thick shoulder as they read about swallows. She held up four little fingers. “Mama, Mama, Papa, and Papa.”
“You’re doubly blessed with parents then. I knew only my father when I was little, so growing up with four adults to love and guide you is wondrous.”
“At times.” She sighed in a way far beyond her years. “Sometimes there are too many of them, and they have too many rules.” She wiggled closer on her butt to rest a tiny hand on my knee. “Where is your father now?”
“He passed away last year and now swims at the side of the sea witches,” I said, hoping I’d not pulled the thread and ruined the garment.
Perhaps my forthrightness about my familial connection, as well as the mention of the sea witches, would not be appreciated by the queen.
I was sure it would not be upon reflection, but that pig was truly out of the poke.
“I am sorry your father is dead. Our great-grandfather went to sit at the side of Ihdos, and we miss him. He gave us soft candy treats and told us stories of our father when he was little.”
“I heard of his passing. I’m sorry for your loss too.”
“Thank you.” She was already so prim and proper. “Who are the sea witches?” Alfina asked just as a rattling wind blasted down the flue, scattering sparks into the fire screen where they flared and then turned to ash.
I thought to answer that the storm winds were the witches as they blew in off the sea, but scaring my niece and nephew—what a novel concept that was—was not on my agenda.
I found I rather enjoyed them. Smart little shites they were.
Perhaps I felt a strong liking for them because they possessed a tiny bit of mischief in their blood as well as regal bearing.
A small shard of devilment like their uncle. Uncle. A nice word indeed.
“The sea witches are powerful sisters who guide and watch over sailors,” I explained, omitting the more gruesome things the daughters of the Nerevahn had wrought on those who displeased them. “Those of us who live on the sea pray to them.”
“Mama says you are a pirate most foul,” Alfina stated.
“I am a pirate, true, but do I seem foul to you?” I asked and got a shake of her gold head.
The prince also shook his head, as did Prescott.
I had three fans here in the castle. An honor indeed.
“Good, because I’m just a sailor who borrows goods from the rich to hand out to the poor.
I may keep a very small percentage to feed my crew and buy boots for my feet, but otherwise I’m a kind and conscientious merchant. ”
“Are all pirates contentious?” Prince Al’fur asked. Seemed birds were boring compared to pirates. Truth told, we were rather illustrious.
“Contentious? Aye, we are, but we’re also conscientious.
Once, my crew and I sailed the very edge of the Stormhold Sea where it kisses the green waters of a new, eastern ocean.
One that is rumored to take a ship to lands where striped cats the size of horses prowl, where the fish sing and speak, and where the elves are gifted with flight.
” All three of those gathered around me had eyes as round as royal dinner platters.
“Would you like to hear a story about that trip and the sea creature that greeted us where the oceans converge?”
They all nodded. And so I told them one of many stories about our time asea beyond the maps of Melowynn. A clock above us chimed softly as I ended the tale. The twins were both asleep, the prince in the arms of Prescott, and the princess with her head on my knee.
“We should take them to their quarters,” I whispered to Prescott.
We rose, leaving our books behind for the old elf to tidy up.
Carrying the twins, we exited the library, our guards snapping awake and jumping to their boots from the floor upon seeing us with the children.
“They found us reading and then fell asleep. Please guide us to the nursery.”
They hurried to do so, worry deep on their faces.
I’d not disabuse them of that worry. Let them think the twins had snuck by them as they snoozed in the hallway.
We climbed stairs and made our way down a long corridor as the first touches of dawn tried to lighten the menacing sky.
An odd, eerie greenish-yellow tinted the turbulent clouds.
That coloration set my sailor’s nerves on edge.
The low clouds hovering over Celear could grow even uglier.
I’d seen many a waterspout form on churning seas. I had no wish to see one on land.
We arrived at the nursery at the same time as the royal ward guardian, toting a thimble-sized cup of something that smelled like hot tea with peppermint. Her black eyes flared.
“Before you draw your war picks, we can explain,” I said firmly while Prescott slid behind me to try to hide. Rather like hiding a whale behind a porpoise. “They found us in the library in the middle of the night.”
“What?” Tezen gasped, spilling some of her tea and cussing softly about it. “They’re not able to roam about the castle in the middle of the—”
“They’re using the servant’s corridors. You may wish to pass that along to the king and queen, as well as the castellan, and have locks placed on the doors that only the servants have keys to.”
She chewed on her lip for a long, long moment. “They are making me gray-haired before my time. I shall let the queen know this morning. Thank you for…taking care of them.” Her gaze flew to the large male cowering behind me with a princeling in his arms. “Thank you as well. For not eating them.”
“Eat cookie, no babies,” Prescott mumbled.
“Yes, yes, so I see. Fine, let’s get them tucked in before the nanny finds their beds empty and suffers an apoplexy of the bowels.” Tezen zipped ahead of us, opening the door to the royal nursery to allow us entry.
The room was huge, filled with child-sized tables, chairs, chaises, and two canopy beds.
Toys and books were neatly stacked into boxes and cupboards.
The windows were tightly sealed, the thick drapes drawn against the gale.
Wardrobes stood at the ready, overflowing with regal outfits for the twins.
Behind one of the stately armoires, I took note of a large area of new stone, the brightness of it was evident even in the low light of the nursery.
After the twins were in their beds sleeping peacefully, Tezen escorted us back into the corridor. Our guards were still there, silent, looking like two dogs found raiding the larder.
“So, I uhm…I appreciate your taking care of the twins in my absence.”
“Bug not mad?” Prescott asked as he dallied about behind me.
“No, I…no, I’m not mad. I’m not a bug. I’m a pixie.” She shot him a dark look before wiping it away with a small hand. “Sorry, it’s hard being judged as something that you’re not.”
“Aye, we know.” That got a long sigh from Tezen.
“Right, your point is well made. I’ll be sure to tell the queen that you and your friend took good care of the children and should be allowed to visit them, supervised by me, of course, whenever there’s time. If she so wishes to hear me out.”
“I suspect there are few in this keep who don’t hear you out, whether they wish to or not.”
She flashed a grin full of pointed teeth. I held out a finger. She grabbed it, shook it so hard my eyes rattled, and flitted back into the nursery. I glanced at Prescott, then yawned so deeply my jaw cracked.
“Let’s find our beds as well, shall we?” I said to Prescott, who nodded as he held his new bird book to his chest. If the keeper of the books wished to fight him over one child’s book, he was free to do so.
Perhaps turning in at dawn would chase the nightmares away.