Page 9 of Crown of Wings and Whispers

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you.”

“You think you can resist me?”

“Never expect me to choose you over food,” I said, pushing him out of the way so I could reach the stairs first. “Especially when I’m starving.”

3

Baking With The Enemy

The dining room was set off the kitchen and opposite the living room. The round table could have been hundreds of years old with odd grooves radiating out to the edges, made smooth from heavy wear. I could almost imagine how many thousands of elbows and dinner plates were required to polish them that silky smooth.

Bridie’s version of brunch consisted of cold breakfast food, little tea sandwiches, and berries and cream. Back home, it would be called leftovers. I was just glad she hadn’t gone to a lot of trouble to feed us.

Colm rambled on for five minutes non-stop, then tapped one of his slightly dry sandwiches on the side of his plate by way of complaint. He opened his mouth to say something, but looked over my shoulder and snapped it shut again.

We all turned to find Archer standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Couldnae wait for me, Mother?”

Bridie bounced out of her chair and hurried to greet him with a kiss on his cheek, as if she hadn’t seen him for a long time. “Sit next to Luuucy,” she said, then went to the painted yellow hutch to get him a plate.

Archer looked his brother in the eye as he walked around the table. “Griffon,” he said, coolly. “I see you’ve broughtLucyhome to meet Mother. How charming.” He passed the empty chair and stepped next to me, reached for my hand, then kissed the back of it. “Good to have you back in the familyclutches, my dear.”

If he looked me in the eye, I missed it.

He pulled out his chair and sat, dragged a napkin across his lap, and turned to face Colm. With his voice still cool and even, he asked, “What are you still doing here, Muddy? I clearly remember telling you to go to h—”

“’Ere now. None of that,” Bridie sang, delivering him a plate overflowing with baked beans and cold sausages. “I told him he could stay until the wake. He said he could lend a hand whilst ye were gone. Couldn’t have known I’d have both my lads back under my roof before nooon, could I?”

“Well, we’re here now, Muddy. So go. If you’re still inclined, I invite you to return for the wake tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. Not a moment before.”

Colm laughed as if Archer were teasing, but when the latter only stared at him with deadpan eyes, he turned to appeal to Griffon.

Griffon dismissed him with the wave of his hand. “Goodbye, Muddy.”

The man glanced at Bridie, but a narrow look from Archer warned him not to try again. He tossed his dry sandwich onto his plate and stood. When he finally dragged his butt out the side door, the woman called sweetly, “See you tomorrow night, Muddy dear.” When she failed to notice her slip, the brothers laughed so hard there were tears in their eyes.

For the rest of the meal, Archer treated me as if I were invisible, which was better than trying to kill me. Thankfully, Bridie didn’t notice our lack of direct conversation since Griffon was quick to bridge any obvious gaps until we pushed aside our plates and settled into our cups of tea.

Bridie waved her hand for attention. “If anyone sees funeral candles, I don’t want to be knowin’ about it, I don’t.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. “Funeral candles?”

Archer forgot to ignore me. “On the way to a funeral, if ye see the ghost of a candle along the path, it warns that another shall die. Multiple candles mean multiple deaths in the same family. A small weak candle flame might mean a child.”

“That’s horrible!”

Bridie nodded vigorously. “Just why I doonae wish to be knowin’ about it.”

Griffon reached over and squeezed my hand. “Don’t take it to heart, love. It’s just superstition born from plague times, no doubt. Though a plague was hardly needed to wipe out a family.” He looked at his mother and winced when he found her staring with her mouth hanging open. “No offense, Mother. Americans just don’t understand such ancient traditions.”

I wanted to defend my countrymen, but I didn’t have any clue how to do it. The only tradition that had been handed down in my family was “how to care for your new pet rock,” and even then, we couldn’t speak freely about it. My mother didn’t even know Hank had been handed off to me until my grandmother was gone. Even then, she never entertained the subject.

Bridie seemed mollified and turned her attention to me. “Can ye coook, Lucy?”

“I can follow directions.”

“That’ll do fine, then. Maybe ye won’t mind helping me in the kitchen whilst Griffon’s gone.”

I tried to hide my panic. Though I’d heard Griffon talking to his mother alone in the kitchen, he’d said nothing to me about leaving. Did that mean he’d be taking Archer with him? Or would I need to stay close to Bridie for safety?

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