Page 21 of Pippa of Lauramore
I step past him and take my place at the table. “She had to help Mother with the village tournament.”
He looks bemused. “You came…all by yourself?”
“Honestly,” I scoff. “You all act like I’m incapable of following instructions.”
My uncle tilts his head to the side. “Areyou capable of following instructions?”
I have a purpose for today’s geography lesson, so I ignore him and cut to the chase. “Tell me more about Errinton. We rarely speak of it.”
Mostly because it’s a depressing subject riddled with politics, and I never pay attention.
Sir Kimble crosses his arms. “What do you want to know? It’s rocky, cold, inhospitable, and has the largest population of dragons of any of the known kingdoms.”
“Tell me about their involvement in the Dragon Wars,” I say, referring to a decade-long battle that was waged from the time I was a tiny toddler to my thirteenth year. Lauramore created a truce with the dragons only three years into the war, but many kingdoms fought for six, seven, even eight years. Only Errinton fought the entire ten.
Sir Kimble sits, his face serious. “Errinton is a very old kingdom, and only a decade ago, their dragon armor was much sought after. They’re the only people with the knowledge of creating an alloy of iron and dragon scales, and it made their land rich. Once the truce was accepted, the killing of dragons was forbidden.”
I know that too, but I’ve never stopped to think about what it truly means. “Is that why so many of their citizens are turning to thievery? Is the kingdom going broke now that they can’t make the dragon armor? Or are they truly a cruel, savage people as I’ve been told?”
“There’s not much coming out of Errinton. There’s ore in their mountains, but it’s never been seriously mined. Other than that, the kingdom is rock, some scraggly grass here and there, and dragons. Right now, the people are starving. No one goes to Errinton for a holiday—no one goes there for anything. There’s no money going in whatsoever.”
“Are they a cruel people?” I ask again.
He thinks about it, scratching his chin. “Some are, certainly. But they’re also desperate.”
“That doesn’t make it right to rob people—to steal their livestock and crops.” And do things that are much,much worse, but there is no need to mention those. Kimble knows.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Why is Lord Rigel here?” I ask, finally getting to the point.
“The same reason as the rest. He’s competing for your hand.”
I shiver, feeling cold.
Sir Kimble leans forward. “Rigel is neither cruel nor savage. He has ideas to save the kingdom, and he and your father have discussed a great many things in the last few years. My brother would be very happy with a match between the two of you.”
It’s becoming clear that my father’s idea of a good match is very, very different from mine.
I slipthe needle into the handkerchief I’m working on and admire my stitches. Anna pauses over my shoulder, and I glance up. She’s scrutinizing my work.
“What?” I look at the embroidery closer. It’s perfect.
She holds out her hand, and I give the handkerchief to her. She flips the piece over and examines the back. Finally, she sighs. “Your skill has improved vastly in the last year, Pippa.”
I still want to know what’s wrong with it.
“I’m afraid I could do no better myself.” She doesn’t sound happy.
“Is that a problem?”
Isn’t that the point of lessons? What does she expect?I’ve embroidered more skirts, pillows, curtains, handkerchiefs, linens, and scraps than anyone I know—including the fine and demure Leonora. Every time I find myself in trouble, I’m either assisting Yuven, copying endless scrolls, or sitting for hours on end with a needle.
And I’m in trouble a lot.
The chorus of bells rings, announcing the hour.
“Set it aside for now. I’ll walk you to archery, and then I have to find your mother.”
