Chapter 64
Lyssa
Lyssa Sage always had a story to tell.
Evie often told her that once Lyssa had begun talking at the ripe age of eleven months, she never stopped. Everything was an adventure, everything another way to entertain. She loved the emotions people went through when consuming a story. The tears, the laughter, the swooning, the fear.
Well, she didn’t love the fear.
When the three of them walked into the kitchens, Gideon busied himself with the cauldron brew and Keeley took one of the honey-covered buns Edwin was pulling out of the oven. “Careful, Captain Keeley!” Edwin urged. “They’re hot.”
“Forgive me.” Keeley gave him a bashful smile. “It’s been so long since you’ve made honey buns I forgot myself.” She glanced about the room nervously. “Edwin, have you seen Moira—I mean, um—Fate?”
Edwin gestured toward the door. “She left in a hurry. Said she had to get something. I’m sure she’ll be back in a blink.”
Keeley didn’t seem to believe that, but nodded in understanding, turning her attention to the newcomer walking in.
Joseph the Scholar entered the room, ducking his head through the corridor, and Edwin began nervously fiddling with his glasses. “Did I hear you made honey buns? My favorite.” Joseph smiled fondly, and Lyssa watched Edwin’s cheeks go from his normal blue to indigo. “Did you make these for me?”
“I merely had the ingredients.” Edwin dropped the pan on the stove and turned his attention back to stirring the cauldron brew. “Was there something you needed, Joseph? The kids wanted to speak with me.”
“Kids? I’m captain of The Villain’s guard!” Keeley protested.
“And I’m an adult…technically,” Gideon added.
“I never want to get old. Everyone acts so weird,” Lyssa declared.
Ms. Erring and Blade came into the room next, holding the baby guvres. “What happened to your hair, Gushiken?” Gideon asked, eyebrows high.
“I…napped…too hard.” Blade cleared his throat, and Ms. Erring turned very slowly to stare at him.
“See? That’s weird.” Lyssa felt vindicated. “Edwin, have you seen this handkerchief before?”
Edwin took the cloth in his large hand, staring at it closely. “No, it’s hardly big enough to cover my thumb.” He chuckled, and Lyssa realized how ridiculous this was. As if that scrap of cloth could be at all useful to an ogre, except perhaps as a blanket for a pet mouse.
“What made you think it was mine?” Edwin asked.
“There’s an E at the bottom,” Gideon muttered in defeat, wincing through sips of his cauldron brew.
Joseph came to Edwin’s shoulder, and the chef stiffened, holding his breath when Joseph leaned in. “I recognize this.”
“You do?” Lyssa blinked.
“This lace is only used for capes of enchantment,” Joseph explained. “May I?” he asked Edwin gently, and the ogre handed it over, their fingers brushing, and they both smiled nervously.
“Stop staring,” Keeley hissed at Gideon.
“What?” Gideon hissed right back. “I’m a romantic. So take me away in handcuffs, Captain.”
While the adults in the room bickered, Lyssa got back to work. “What is a cape of enchantment?”
“Every family line of enchantresses has a cape passed through the family,” Joseph explained, studying the piece with rapt interest. “On occasion they’ll take pieces from the cape and use them for baby blankets or—”
“Handkerchiefs,” Lyssa concluded.
“Exactly.” Joseph smiled at her. “In Rennedawn, there are only ten family lines of enchantresses. It’s the only kind of magic that is passed down from generation to generation and not awoken later in life.”
“The Fortis family has something like that,” Ms. Erring added. “But it’s silk.”
His eyes brightened. “I didn’t realize we had a member of the Fortis family here. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I’ve studied your family for many years.”
“Wonderful. Are you any closer to diagnosing them?” Ms. Erring replied dryly.
Joseph chuckled, pointing at her. “You’re just like your grandmother.”
“Thank you.” Ms. Erring softened. “You know her?”
“We’ve crossed paths a few times. She’s always been a wonderful dance partner at a party.” The ogre smiled sideways at Edwin. “As is Edwin.”
“Oh?” Keeley smiled to herself, and Lyssa bit her tongue before she swooned.
Edwin’s laugh was strangled. “No, you’re being kind. I stepped on your toes.”
Joseph’s eyes were warm on Edwin’s face. “I never noticed.”
Blade mock-whispered to Gideon, “Should we leave?”
Keeley, Ms. Erring, and Lyssa shushed them both so fast the boys flinched away from them.
Lyssa found she enjoyed having that effect on people.
“So the E would stand for…”
“Erodina.” Joseph snapped from the spell that had him gazing upon Edwin’s face. “This would probably be the Erodina line.”
“It’s Winnifred’s?” Ms. Erring asked. “But Winnifred just showed up a few days ago. And Marv was imprisoned not long after. She cannot be the person who wrote the notes to Lyssa.”
“Then someone she would’ve given it to.”
Ms. Erring jumped, wide-eyed. “Bladen, fetch me a raven—I need to write to Roland. I have an idea.” Blade was sailing from the room before she finished.
“We could send one to Evie as well. If she crosses paths with Winnifred in Maverine’s village, she might be able to find out who had her handkerchief last,” Gideon suggested, and Edwin shook his head.
“If they’re still on the boat, it’ll be harder to reach them. We’re better off waiting till the morning and sending it directly to the village.”
They all quietly agreed with Edwin, including Lyssa. She wandered toward the window where Ms. Erring stood, watching Cassandra and Clarke climb on top of each other to get closer to Becky’s hands for head pats. “They’re so sweet.”
“They’re a nuisance,” she said fondly, lifting the small animals into her arms. “But I suppose not all bad.”
Lyssa smiled, then wondered at the way she suddenly felt unsettled. It took her a moment to realize it was because the room was no longer sunny. Then something moved behind the stained glass window.
A giant eye.
“Ms. Erring! Move!” Lyssa cried, throwing up her glowing hands.
And before any of them could make it to the door, the room was swallowed by the guvre’s fatal venom.