Chapter 14
Rosie
“And if you eat even one inch of gold-braid trimming, I will have your hide for the world’s ugliest hat!”
As I step into my bedchamber, my ears are immediately assaulted by this barked threat, followed by a stream of invective pronounced with such perfect enunciation, it almost renders the rude words suitable for polite society.
But not quite. Curious, I peer across the room to spy Philippa, halfway buried in the wardrobe, tossing items out over her shoulder one after the other, all the while keeping up a steady stream of abuse.
“Philippa!” I cry. “What is going on?”
My lady whirls, gripping a poker in one hand.
Her eyes are wild, and her usually impeccably coiffed hair is pulled all askew down the side of her head.
“Some absolute arsehoof of a guard,” she snarls, teeth flashing like a tigress, “had the audacity to set loose a juvenile gremler in this room!” She pushes hair off her face and turns to the wardrobe once more, rolling her shoulders as though bracing for battle.
“He coughed up some wild story about it being sent by you and that I”—she breaks into a burst of manic laughter before finishing—“I was meant to take care of it.”
“And what are you doing?” I demand.
“Trying to skewer it, of course,” she answers, brandishing her poker like a sword. I wouldn’t have thought her capable of such bloodthirst, but she lunges at the wardrobe so forcefully, I half expect her to burst out the other side.
“Oh no, Philippa!” I cry, dashing across the room and grasping the end of the poker with both hands. “Don’t hurt the poor little thing.”
Philippa pauses her assault, turning to me slowly. One dark eye peers at me through strands of snarled hair. “You cannot be serious. You cannot have sent this pest here on purpose.”
Unable to answer in the face of such ire, I smile tentatively.
“It scat all over your gown!” My lady waves a hand, indicating the gold-and-black gown from earlier today, which had been laid across the bed when I exchanged it for the one I now wear. “Gremler scat stains are impossible to get out. The silk is utterly ruined!”
“Good,” I answer shortly. “I hated that gown.” When she tugs, I refuse to release the poker, instead firmly twisting it out of her grasp.
“Come, Philippa,” I say, switching to the soothing voice I usually save for ill-tempered korrigans and hungry harpies.
Taking hold of her elbow, I ease her back out of the wardrobe and across the room to the nearest chair.
“I will deal with this. I’ve experience with these sorts of things. ”
So saying, I return to the wardrobe and pull aside swaths of silk and brocade.
Something skuttles in the back, and I peer into the deepest shadows.
There the little gremler huddles, a ball of frightened, wounded fluff.
Its rigorous squeaks of earlier have faded to hoarse little peeps, so pathetic, it could break all but the stoniest hearts.
“It’s all right,” I say, kneeling just inside the wardrobe and extending my hand.
“I understand. Rather well, actually. You were just minding your business, going about your life, only to find yourself scooped up and carried off to a world where you don’t belong.
Granted,” I add, with a quirk of my lips, “minding your own business likely means decimating winter stores of magic while breeding at an inexhaustible rate…still, that’s just what it means to be a gremler, isn’t it? One cannot help one’s nature.”
I keep up this steady stream of talk even as my hand inches nearer and nearer. My voice has a hypnotic effect on the creature. Its bright eyes, reflecting like glass buttons in the darkness, start to droop.
“Careful,” Philippa warns sharply, “it’ll bite!”
As though suddenly inspired, the gremler springs forward and sinks its teeth into my thumb.
I knew it was coming, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Still, the burn scars on my left hand, though not as extensive as those spread across my shoulder and side, have dulled the feeling in those digits, and the pain is little more than an uncomfortable pressure.
Hastily I scruff the gremler, pry its tiny jaws open, and cradle it in both hands.
It trembles then goes limp, giving in to its fate.
How surprised must it be when, rather than being devoured in a single gulp, it is instead pressed close to my heart and gently stroked?
Backing out of the wardrobe, I continue crooning to it, mostly nonsense and wordless sounds.
After several minutes, I feel a faint vibration against my chest. It’s purring.
“Do we have an old scintil globe?” I ask, turning to Philippa, who watches me with open-mouthed horror. “And cut a length off that gold gown, if it’s ruined anyway. Thank you, Philippa.”
I speak the last words with a certain degree of force, almost like a proper princess might.
It’s enough to make Philippa blink in surprise, shut her mouth tightly, and hasten off to accomplish my wishes.
When she returns, I nestle the little gremler into this makeshift bed, then unhook another scintil globe from the ceiling to access the lump of raw magic at its base.
It’s been compressed into a solid, glowing stone, a bit hot to the touch and about the size of a walnut.
I pluck it out with my desensitized left hand and offer it to the gremler.
It hesitates for some moments, then tentatively puts out its tiny purple tongue and takes a lick.
It doesn’t take much to satisfy a single gremler; after three licks, it seems happy, and curls its face into its stomach, becoming nothing more than a palm-sized poof.
I leave the magic lump in the globe for it to rediscover upon waking.
Philippa peers over my shoulder. She has managed to pull her hair back into some semblance of order, but a few stray wisps still fall across her cheekbones. “Why,” she demands, “are you going through so much trouble for…for that?”
“I don’t know.” A little smile tilts my lips as I gaze down at the kit. “I’ve always felt that living things deserved to do just that. To live.”
Philippa sniffs very delicately. “And when some living things threaten the lives of others?”
I cast her a short look. “One little gremler kit isn’t going to threaten anyone.”
“That’s not the point, Princess. And you know it.”
I do know it. I know that while one gremler on its own may be harmless enough, two gremlers can swiftly lead to trouble, which, in short order, can grow exponentially worse.
There’s no happy ending for anyone in that scenario—not for the people who suffer loss from the gremlers’ destructive habits, nor for the gremlers themselves, which must be exterminated by whatever means necessary.
There’s simply no way for two such different species with such different needs to live in harmony.
And yet…
“I don’t have solutions for all the world’s problems,” I answer softly, touching the globe with the tips of my fingers while that little ball of softness inside vibrates with purrs.
“But right now, I’m going to help this gremler.
I’m a healer; healing is what I do. I will care for this creature until it is recovered, then I will figure out somewhere for it to go where it will neither cause nor come to harm.
In the meanwhile, I’ll be responsible for it. ”
Philippa looks at me long and hard. I can almost hear what she does not say. The words seem to echo in the silence between us: Why not save that sense of responsibility for the people who are looking to you to save them?
I raise my eyes, meeting her gaze firmly. “I am a healer. Not a killer.”
Mutely, Philippa drops a curtsy then moves to gather up the remains of the ruined gown.
I’m aware of her movements in the room behind me but remain looking at my new pet in its glass home.
They’re so very adorable at this age! Granted, a grown gremler tends to be a bit more fangy and vicious, but that’s a worry for another day.
“Did you give your scarf to Prince Valtar, Princess? I see you do not have it on you.”
I’m so caught up trying to follow the swirling pattern of color in the gremler’s tortoiseshell fur, the abrupt question takes me aback. “Oh!” I look down at my own empty hands. “I…yes, I did, but…”
Philippa perks up. “So, your interaction went well, then? You liked him?”
“No!” Heat rushes up my cheeks, and I quickly drop my face back to the globe. “That is, I did like him, I do. But…”
“I’m glad.” Philippa folds up the stained bodice of the gold gown and stuffs it into a laundry sack. “Though I won’t deny, I am surprised. He strikes one as so cold and dark and forbidding.”
A frown tightens my forehead. It’s not as though I can’t see how this perspective might arise, but…
somehow, I simply don’t see Valtar that way.
Maybe that’s what comes from beginning our acquaintance with a passionate kiss; it’s rather difficult to view him as cold and forbidding following a moment like that!
Still, I can’t let Philippa get the wrong idea.
“I don’t like him. And I didn’t really give him my colors either. ”
Philippa suddenly looks so tired, I have to pity her. “And what is that supposed to mean, Princess?”
“I did give him the scarf. But it was only to bind his hand.”
“And why”—Philippa winces as though she doesn’t want to finish the question—“did you need to bind his hand?”
“Because he got bitten.”
“By what?”
“By…” I point into the scintil globe.
Philippa blanches. There’s a beat for five breaths. Then: “And how in the names of all the gods and goddesses did that happen?”
There’s nothing for it but to admit the whole story then: about the spider, the climb, my graceless fall, Valtar’s own daring and distinctly shirtless ascent.
All of it. Philippa presses her hands to her cheeks partway through the telling and begins whispering prayers to some goddess for strength.
When I come to the end of my tale, she shakes her head despairingly.
“You cannot make the champions fetch and carry for you like that, Princess. They are your champions, not your page boys!”
“It was Valtar’s idea,” I answer morosely. “I was going to climb up and get it myself, but—”
“Please.” Philippa holds up one hand. “Tell me no more. I simply cannot stand it.”
I bite my tongue. While Philippa goes back to her tasks, readying the room for the night, I reach into the scintil globe and allow my fingertips to stroke that ball of indescribably soft fur.
As I do, my mind turns to Valtar. To the way he sprang into action, saving the gremler for me with scarcely a word of protest. Objectively speaking, I know it was an absurd thing to ask of anyone.
But I didn’t ask, did I? I was perfectly willing to manage the whole situation on my own…
which was equally absurd, truth be told.
Hadn’t the guardsmen looked at me like I’d lost my mind?
Perhaps I had. Perhaps I never had much of a mind to begin with.
That’s what Mistress Iliyani would have said.
She certainly would not have shown Philippa’s restraint and skimped on chastisements.
She would have cut me down to size with a good tongue-lashing in a matter of moments.
But Valtar hadn’t seemed to mind. Sure, he’d thought the whole thing a little odd.
But he hadn’t protested or argued. He didn’t even seem to particularly care about getting bitten.
Throughout that whole outrageous little adventure, he never once made me feel foolish for wanting to save the creature.
Perhaps he’d not fully comprehended my desire, but he had respected it. Respected me.
And I’m not sure how to feel about that.
“It’s nice though, isn’t it?” I whisper softly so that Philippa won’t hear me. My breath fogs the glass of the scintil globe, and I use the edge of my sleeve to clear it and peer into the gremler’s nest once more. “It’s nice to be understood. Even just a little.”