Page 69 of Sweetling
The music changed to a familiar song, and Molly bounced on her seat. Together, they sang about bonny lasses and forlorn love, filling the house with out-of-tune music and their harmonized duet.
To Molly’s surprise, even Bellarand, after another fortnight of her presence at the manor and seeing that she meant to stay, seemed to be coming around. Not that she necessarily sought or needed the unicorn’s esteem, but it was nice to know she wouldn’t be stabbed in the back whenever she went to tend the garden Allarion established for her.
Molly liked to think of herself as adaptable, sometimes even clever, and she wasn’t above bribery to get her way. She’d started a subtle campaign of flirting with Allarion, mostly to see where the line for him was. How much could she push—for she wanted to know if what he said was true.
As for Bellarand, as a glorified horse with a superiority complex, Molly figured the way to win his—if not affection, then at least approval would be through his stomach.
Most males were similar that way. The ones that ate, at least.
As she tended to the garden, she got in the habit of pulling up a carrot for him. They weren’t ready yet, but the unicorn seemed to take delight in the small roots.
The young ones are the sweetest,he said without a hint of remorse.
Molly swallowed her horror and continued her campaign, making sure to procure additional large carrots when next they went to Mullon.
The large carrots were quickly a favorite. Soon, Molly had herself an enormous household pest.
One that enjoyed scaring the daylights out of her.
With the split door open on top to catch the afternoon breeze, it was easy for Bellarand to stick his head into the kitchen, and he loved to do it suddenly, never giving her warning he was coming.
He bared his teeth in an equine laugh whenever she dropped or spilled something.
This time, though, she merely jumped when he stuck that big black head through the door.
I require more carrots, human.
Molly didn’t bother looking up from where she stood at the stove, stirring that day’s stew. “May I please have another carrot, Molly?”
A snort of derision blew through the kitchen.Dread-mounts do not beg.
“Being polite isn’t begging,” she sing-songed. “It’s having good manners.”
Another great huff, and Molly did her best not to look at the looming unicorn taking up one side of the kitchen. She kept to her business, chopping her vegetables and stirring her stew.
Finally, when Bellarand saw she meant it when she ignored him, he stamped a front hoof on the packed earth outside.
Fine! A carrot, please.
It sounded more insulting than polite, but Molly figured they had to start somewhere. Pulling one from her pile, she approached where his head hung over the open half-door, but she didn’t give it to him immediately.
“Please, who?”
His hot, irritated breath threw her hair back with its velocity.Please, Molly,he grumbled.
Content, Molly handed over the carrot to his grasping horsey lips. And nearly had her fingers chomped off for her trouble.
“Watch it!” she yelped.
Carrot faster next time, then,he chortled, and she swore the unicornwinkedat her.
Unsettling. There was no other word for the unicorn.
Molly glared as she returned to her stew, but she didn’t rat out the big pony to Allarion when the fae came trotting down the steps. She wanted to be amicable cohabitants with Bellarand, if nothing more, and Molly had never been one to snitch.
Allarion sat himself on a stool, and he and his mount seemed perfectly happy to watch her cook. Bellarand laughed his braying laugh when she set Allarion the task of stringing green beans, but quickly turned to goading the fae into throwing him pods to crunch on.
“I’d like some of those for my dinner,” she groused as another green bean went sailing into the unicorn’s wide-open mouth.
