Page 21 of Lady Tamsyn and the Pixie's Curse
Paul ignored him, obviously gathering his courage. “Tuft is the one who gave you the ability to see . . . to see the truth inaman.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Tuft did,” she repeated flatly. “Thepixie?”
The spirit boynodded.
“Why? Why would he do such athing?”
“He meant it asagift.”
“But—” Jump moved against her just then and emitted a pitiful moan. She started forward again, her lips pressed tight, trying to move smoothly and not jostle the poor creature. Gryff kept a light touch on her arm as they crossed the clearing and she was grateful for his presence. He led her across the meadow to a corner that was bordered by an impenetrable-looking thicket of trees, vines, thorns andshrubs.
“It’s through here. I’ll try to clear a path for you. Stick closebehindme.”
He pushed and pulled and hacked, and held branches and vines aside for her as she gingerly followed in his steps. And then they were through and out into another smallerclearing.
The barrow rose up, dominating one end of the spot. An earthen mound standing taller than a man and covered in grass and moss and the detritus of the forest, it stretched back, longer than she could make out. A doorway, lined with thick stone, opened into the clearing. Nothing but black gloom showed past the entryway and there was no noise or movement in the clearing. Even the birds and the sough of branches in the wind had gonesilent.
“Tuft!” Paul called. “It’s Jump! He’sbeenhurt!”
Suddenly, he wasthere.
She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was small, perhaps the height of her knee, and ancient, but in an absolutely different way from the old man masquerading at the castle. Rowancourt reeked ofwrongand a faint taste of decay. This creature—his nose was bulbous, his mouth wide with deep grooves etched at the sides, but his eyes were large and . . . knowing. He looked weathered, like he’d drunk in a thousand sunsets and sighed happily at the end ofeachone.
He looked at her makeshift sling and his expression darkened. His large ears tilted slightly toward her and then moved closer tohishead.
Gryff immediately stepped closer, as if to protect her and Paul followed suit. “It was the falcon,” heexplained.
“He fought valiantly,” Tamsyn said as Gryff untied the sling at her back. She knelt down. “But heishurt.”
The small face twisted in dismay. He clapped his hands and behind him, closer to the barrow, the meadow grasses leaped in answer. They sprang upright, growing several feet in an instant, then began to loop and weave themselves together, forming a soft platform about six inches off of theground.
Pixie and wounded creature disappeared, then popped back in at the makeshift bed. Tuft leaned over his friend, while behind him, several smaller creatures, all of different aspects, emerged from the dark mouth of thebarrow.
Tuft looked up and without a word they scattered. One, fuzzy and dressed in brown, took to the trees. Two little green creatures, their heads wrapped in soft, new leaves, scurried away through the grass, while a bluish sprite concentrated, sprouted wings and took totheair.
“He’ll know what to do,” Paul said as the pixie bent over Jumponcemore.
Tamsyn was still on her knees. Gryff knelt down beside her. “Might as well get comfortable. I don’t think we should leave until the creatureissafe.”
She sat down, her mind gone numb at all of the things she’d witnessed today. “Pixies,” she whispered. She looked at Gryff. “Your family wasright.”
He shook his head. “I always knew it . . . but this . . .” He sighed. “My aunt will be fair green with envy, when she hearsaboutit.”
But the thought had seized Tamsyn again. She turned on Paul. “Why?” She nodded toward Tuft. “Why did hedoit?”
The ghostly boy hung his head. “Because I askedhimto.”
“What?” Not the answer she’d been expecting. “Explain.”
“You did him a favor. I thought he owed you one inreturn.”
She snorted. “Unlikely. How could I do him a favor? I knew nothing—hadn’t an inkling pixies were real before thismoment.”
Paul sighed. “He was the one who laughedatyou.”
She froze. A flush started low, in her belly and traveled upward until even the tips of her ears felt hot. She did not dare glance atGryff.
“You made him laugh,” Paul rushed on, “and a good, heartfelt Pixie laugh is powerful. It swept through the forest like a flood, doing good wherever ittouched.”
