Page 22 of Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie's Curse
“Oh.” A nurse, two governesses and her mother’s endless lectures—none of them had prepared her to answer to a statementlikethat.
Beside her, Gryff ducked as the blue sprite whizzed over his head, returning on its errand. Tuft accepted the fistful of offered leaves. He whispered over them and tore them apart, sprinkling them over Jump’s wounds. The other pixies trickled back too, bringing herbs and an acorn cup of liquid. Tuft made use of them all and his assistants retreated to the barrow, peering out as the old pixie chanted softly over hisfriend.
They waited. “I thought it might have been a curse,” she said quietly. “My father inherited an earldom, a castle, and I had inherited a curse.” She sat silent for a moment. “This is not the new life I’denvisioned.”
She started a little when she felt Gryff touch a wayward curl, lying againstherneck.
“You weren’t wearing a bonnet the second time I saw you, either,”hesaid.
She thought back. “Of course I was. I dressed properly for a visit to the village. Mother would have had a conniption,otherwise.”
“It wasn’t that day. I saw you, you know, out riding with your father. I’d been working with one of the tenants, repairing the thatch on his home. I was covered in dirt and sweat, so I didn’t dare approach. I watched as you raced the earl along the cliffs. I thought you looked like a sprite, then, with your hair throwing fire back at the sun, a living flame, so light and confident on that horse.” He shook his head as if clearing it and smiled at her. “I was struck even harder than our first meeting, at Keyvnor—and I made sure I was in the village that day, so I could meet youagain.”
She reached her hand up and touched his, where it still hovered around her nape. “I’m glad you did,”shesaid.
“It may not be the life you envisioned,” he gestured around the glade, “but you are handling it like it was the one you werebornto.”
Suddenly, the chantingstopped.
She got to her feet. Tuft’s head bowed as he rested it on the edge of the makeshift platform. Before him, the creature heaved a greatbreath.
Tamsyn held her own breath as Jump stilled—then let it out on a huge sigh as the creature lifted its head tonuzzleTuft.
Paul moved closer to her. “I know you aren’t happy with your gift,” he said soberly. “If you ask now, Tuft might lift itfromyou.”
Her heart leapt. To be free, to go back to her normal self in her normal life . . . She paused. Glanced at Gryff and then around the glade. Could she go back? Did she want to? They had a mystery to solve and an unsavory character to deal with—and her ‘talent’ might be of help in bothregards.
“I . . .” She looked at Gryff again and held his gaze. “I don’t think I’ll ask it,rightnow.”
“You’ve done me a greater favor today,” a deep voice rasped. Across the small space, Tuft looked at her. He caressed Jump’s ears then crossed the space to stand in front of her. “Because of that—had you asked, I would have done you the favor ofnotgranting yourrequest.”
She nodded and Gryff reached for her hand. She took it, grateful for thesupport.
“So few humans heed the magic in the world. They cannot, some of them, or will not. But you—you have not closed yourself off—and so you were able to accept my gift.” The pixie lifted his head high. “And a gift it was. To know the truth of a man is no small thing. To see the truth of a thing, whether it be a fact, a heart or a name, gives you power over it.” He peered up at her. “Real power. I trust you to use itwisely.”
He stood, his manner expectant, so she nodded. “Ipromise.”
“Very well.” He stepped back and looked from her to Gryff. “Now then, this falcon.” Bitterness crept into his tone. “The bird belongs to adangerousman.”
“Rowancourt,yes?”
She shivered as Tuft’s expressiondarkened.
“That is not his name . . . but you’vemethim?”
“Yes. He is a guest at thecastle.”
Tuft breathed in sharply. “Has the willbeenread?”
“No.”
Gryff stepped in. “This man was here before, was he not? He tried to wrest this place from myfather.”
“Your father was clever—and saved himself, quite literally.” Tuft looked at Tamsyn. “It is your father we must worry for now. Is he much like you? Is hisheartopen?”
“I . . . uh, I’m not sure what you mean,” sheanswered.
“The old earl, Young Paul’s father,” Tuft waved a hand at the boy. “He grew to manhood in that castle, and he endured much in his life. He could see the truth when it stood before him. It meant that I was able to help him, protect him.” He blinked his great eyes. “And your father?” he asked her. “Is he suchaman?”
