Page 46 of Earth Dragon
Ewan again took the lead, Petrus seemingly knowing to let the prince walk ahead without Ewan having to instruct him. This was what good rulers did, Shannon had been told. They might let their generals plan an attack, but they would join their men in the battlefield and lead them to victory themselves.
Only, this was no battlefield.
At least not yet.
She remembered Leon then, standing in the smashed-up tiltyard, looking as though he knew he owned the world. He had been so certain he was destined to win that battle, but he had lost. He should have understood that there were never any winners in times of war. Only those who suffered loss, great and small.
Ewan walked through the open door without any hesitation, while Shannon shared a look with Sir Patrick. He appeared as uneasy as she felt. This type of magic had always made her feel a little restless, a little exposed and uncertain what to do with herself in its presence. But perhaps that was because she did not have any other magic than that of her dragon. Her half-sister had been the talent in the family.
When Shannon stepped through the door, her eyes widened as what she had taken for a narrow hallway quickly widened into a large and welcoming room. There was a fireplace with a merrily crackling fire, a candle on every windowsill, and an arrangement of comfortable-looking furniture.
The left side of the room looked more like a study or a library, while the right somehow morphed into a kitchen area, completed by the dining table hosting six chairs that took up a lot of it. Benches laden with fresh herbs and vegetables stood along the walls, and baskets filled with the same covered the floor.
It was the homeliest space Shannon had ever been in, her heart filling with a sense of familiarity. As though she had been there before. Or, perhaps, had always dreamed of coming there.
Lady Marigold entered the kitchen from a doorway, her gray hair a little messy, but her beady eyes and toothless smile made Shannon immediately remember why the name had sounded familiar. The woman had been helping prepare the Pavilion for the Bell of the Ball. Given the magic surrounding them it wasn’t a leap to assume Lady Marigold was the reason shifting was possible within the Pavilion.
The lady peered at them, then offered Ewan a gummy smile.
“Ewan!” she exclaimed. “I thought that was you. The old ears aren’t what they used to be, you know.”
“Lady Marigold, you mustn’t let strangers into your home if you’re unsure of who they are,” Ewan remarked, sounding truly concerned.
“Oh,” Lady Marigold said, waving a hand dismissively. “You know I’ll simply turn them into a toad or a pig if they vex me.” She searched one of the baskets for something, bringing the vegetable she got hold of very close to her eyes before she looked pleased with the find. “Or a parsnip,” she finished meaningfully.
“Did the old woman just make a veiled threat?” Sir Patrick muttered to Eric, who shook his head for him to be quiet.
“Would you rather I made it to your face and make you feel uncomfortable?” Lady Marigold asked. “Fine then. If you prove unworthy, I shall send you off to meet the sandkin of the Denidunes. How about that?”
Sir Patrick bowed his recognition, a slight smile on his face. Lady Marigold eyed him, a small smile of her own on. It seemed she had appreciated his preference for honesty, as well as his lack of fear at the word ‘unworthy’.
Shannon, however, felt herself grow cold as ice.
She should have gone back when offered. She did not belong here.
The Lady’ eyes landed on Shannon. Where Shannon’s irises had always been so dark brown that they appeared almost black, the Lady’ eyes were so small, it looked almost as though she had no irises at all. Only two black peppercorns and a soft gleam of interest.
“Lady Shannon, I presume,” the Lady said.
“You know me?”
“Oh, the whole citadel knows you well, lady,” Lady Marigold replied. “There is little love for you here. Except…” The Lady trailed off, a toothy grin appearing on her mouth as she wagged a finger in the air. She turned from them, rummaging for something, bringing out a knife that looked too big for her to wield. Before anyone could say another word, she had brought the knife down and cut the end of the parsnip. “Soup?” she asked the room.
***
Thirty minutes later they were all seated on the comfortable furniture, blowing on steaming broth filled with boiled vegetables. Petrus barely paused between being handed the bowl and digging in, which made Shannon wonder if he might not be firekin. As waterkin she would rather eat her meals at lower temperatures, no matter how little the broth might burn her tongue.
Truth be told, she had little appetite.
She kept feeling as though a band had been wrapped around her head. And she kept imagining her thoughts appearing like smoke as invisible hands pulled them from her head. She’d heard of such enchantments and though they required powerful magic, if anyone were to possess such power it would be this tiny little creature.
“Eat up,” Lady Marigold encouraged, but Sir Patrick put his bowl aside.
“We are here on business of some urgency,” he said.
“You are?” Lady Marigold asked, eyebrows raised. “The prince tumbling into my dwelling with two guards and two traitors trailing him in the middle of the night sounds like a regular Tuesday to me.”
Sir Patrick looked chastised, but pressed on, “Well, then do you know what it is that brought us here?”
