Page 29 of Straw and Gold
She nodded, taking the letter. “Anything else, my queen? Our washing maids have almost all of that blue ointment out of your gowns and they should finish today.” She eyed my open trunk which spilled with the rest of my clothes. “Would you like me to unpack this for you?”
“No, thank you. I’d like to spend the morning getting to that myself.”
She nodded and took my breakfast tray, frowning. “Do you not enjoy fuilhe, Queen Morella?”
I pulled a gown from my trunk, checking for stains and eyeing the black circle of meat left on my tray. “I’m afraid I do not.”
She tsked her tongue. “It is good for you. Good for the blood and good for future children in the womb.”
I choked on my spit, hacking into my arm. “Alista, there’s no child—I mean, there’s no chance of—Because we haven’t?—”
She cleared her throat, eyeing the two separate beds in the room. “I see.”
Embarrassed, I continued my work, pulling out the endless jars and setting each one onto the shelf of my wardrobe, including the jar of tea that would prevent a child for an entire month. Alista bowed quietly and left while I huffed, wondering if it mattered at all that I’d already taken the tea the night before my wedding.
I shook my head. Either Killian would treat me as his wife in time or he wouldn’t at all. For now, I had a job to do and that was discovering his true name and saving my sister.
I stacked a few more jars and hung the three gowns I had left—one yellow, one red, and one blue. The gown I wore was a deep green, the color of a dark pine in winter. I popped another thistle nut into my mouth and took a deep breath. My wings felt heavy at my back and my eyes threatened to droop with exhaustion.
I finished unpacking and knocked on Killian’s study door.
“You may enter if you can ask to enter in Céaduah,” he called.
A smirk threatened on my lips as I leaned in. “Am faodre mi dub a stuh?”
“Enter,” he replied.
I stepped through to see him writing in a ledger. The window behind his desk was open to the waning summer air and the bustle of castle life could be heard in distant voices. I clasped my hands behind my back and perused the bookshelves, tilting my head and munching on thistle nuts as I read each title.
The Art of Wool
A Detailed History of Shepherding
Wool Carding and Combing
That book I tugged from its placement and opened to the middle, scanning the hand-drawn diagrams and reading the captions.
“Do you read often?”
His voice came sudden and deep and I jumped slightly, choking on a nut. I turned to him, closing the book. “Not nearly as often as Seraphine, so I don’t know what ‘often’ means to any one person.”
He stopped his writing and looked up to meet my eyes with his. “Let me rephrase. Do youenjoyreading, Morella?”
I’d enjoy reading tohim. I’d enjoy reading near him, under him, over him—“Stop it,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?”
“I do.” I snapped the book shut, shelving it quickly.
His gaze flicked over my dress, my braided hair, and my wings which had shifted outward at my last thoughts.
Returning to his ledger, he instructed, “You’ll find fresh straw in the stables for your task this morning.”
I huffed, slumping into the chair in front of his desk, popping another nut from my pocket and chewing slowly. “How am I to get the straw up to the tower?”
“Can you not shift with it? I imagine a raven could easily fit through the tower window and my understanding is that Ravenfae shift with whatever they carry or wear.”
“Can you shift through wood like other Forestfae?” I asked, crossing my legs and adjusting my wings.
