Page 41 of Anwen of Primewood (The Eldentimber #2)

I t’s Pippa. Of course it is.

The princess I remember was very pretty. This woman is gorgeous. She would make a siren look average. She makes me feel very plain, indeed.

“Hello,” I say, my voice quiet.

Pippa doesn’t seem to notice my hesitation. She grabs me by the hand and drags me into the hall. “I have no idea what you’re doing here, but I couldn’t be happier.” She turns to me. “Do you know how many visitors we get?” She holds up her hands, exasperated. “None. You are the first.”

A man with light brown hair and friendly eyes enters the hall. “Pippa, allow them to breathe.”

Though very good looking, he’s not as handsome as Galinor. Pippa must disagree, however. When she sees him, she lights up, a wide smile stretching across her face. “Archer, look who’s come!”

Archer smiles at his wife’s exuberance. “Yes, I can see. It’s good to see you, Galinor. You are well?” He then turns to me. “I’m Archer. You are most welcome in our home.”

“Home,” Pippa scoffs with a grin. “It’s cold and gloomy.” She laughs again. “But, yes, you are welcome nonetheless.”

Then, with nothing left to say, the hall becomes quiet. Both Pippa and Archer look at us expectantly, waiting for the story of who I am and why Galinor and I are together.

“Lady Anwen is Baron Millner of Primewood’s daughter,” Galinor offers.

I nod, unsure what to add.

“You must know Irving and Marigold,” Pippa says.

“I do, yes. We grew up together.”

“How is Irving?” Archer asks.

They lead us through the halls to a small, intimate dining area. A fire burns, and it’s much warmer in here than the rest of the castle.

“He is well,” Galinor answers. “He’s engaged to a street performer.”

They both raise their eyebrows, but neither looks all that surprised. Apparently, they came to know Irving well during his stay in Lauramore.

“And you are in Errinton because…?” Pippa lets the question hang in the air.

“It’s a long story,” I mumble.

Pippa’s obviously not going to let it go. She leans her elbows on the table and rests her chin in her hands. “Oh, good. I hope it’s nice and long. I’ve been bored to tears.” She smiles encouragingly.

I let Galinor tell them our tale. He glosses over the embarrassing bits, making me sound much more like a damsel in distress than I truly am.

“How horrible.” Pippa’s expression is as serious as it has been since we arrived. “But, Galinor, why did you go to the mountains for an iktar? And why would you hire a guide?”

A shadow passes over Galinor’s face.

“We’ve no idea what they are,” I admit. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“I’d never seen one until we came here.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “But they’re everywhere. We’ll help you hunt one tomorrow.”

“Anwen, where’s the list?” Galinor asks.

I draw it from my pouch and hand it to him.

“Pippa, you know about herbs. Where can we find all this?”

The princess reads the parchment. “You can still harvest water root and kember carrots this time of year, and I have pansley. I’m sure there are potatoes in the kitchen. You may have as much as you want.”

“You have fresh pansley?” I ask, incredulous it could grow here.

She nods. “Archer had a greenhouse constructed immediately after the wedding.” She beams at him, and he smiles back.

Archer doesn’t say much, but he is clearly as in love with Pippa as she is him. I glance at Galinor to see how this affects him.

He meets my eye, takes my hand, and smiles. “After tomorrow we’ll have everything to take to Ergmin. Your father’s curse will be lifted. ”

He’s right. Pippa has all the ingredients for Ergmin’s stew. Soon, Father will be free.

And Galinor will go back to Glendon.

I try to smile back at him, and then I attempt to eat the food in front of me.

The topic of conversation turns back to the tournament, and they share stories. Once again, I wish I had been in Lauramore for it.

Pippa pulls on her quiver and bow, and then she slides a knife into her boot. I pull on my cloak and adjust my necklace.

I feel like an idiot next to Pippa.

“We’ll need our packs,” Galinor tells the stable boy who brings us our horses.

“We don’t have far to go,” Pippa assures him, tossing her long braid over her shoulder.

Her hair is strange—unnatural. The red is usual enough, but it fades to gold at the ends. I tug at my own curls, which are looking dull after all the traveling we’ve done.

Archer joins us, and, true to his name, he wears a bow as well.

Pippa has a bow; Archer has a bow; Galinor has a bow.

I have a necklace.

“You have a sour look on your face,” Galinor teases me quietly. His eyes are shockingly blue against the gray skies, and he looks happy .

“I’m not eager to track an iktar,” I answer.

Archer leads us out the main gates. “No tracking required.” We pass through the walls, and then, just outside, he stops. “There.” He motions to the rocky meadow. “Take your pick.”

I don’t see anything but rocks and trees and shaggy cows.

Galinor narrows his eyes as he searches the landscape, but he doesn’t seem to have any more luck than I do. He shakes his head and turns to Archer. “What am I looking at?”

Archer laughs. “Do you see that cow out there?”

Galinor is growing impatient. “Yes…”

Archer nods. “That’s an iktar.”

Pippa laughs like Archer’s said something funny.

“The cow is an iktar beast?” I ask, sure they are having a joke at our expense.

“It’s not actually a cow,” Archer says. “Come, we’ll show you.”

He sets off directly toward the animals. As we near, the beasts look up.

Instead of feasting on grass, they are digging in the dirt. Their feet are not hooved as I had assumed, but rather, they have paws with long, sharp claws on the front. Instead of hair, they have fur, and their ears are large and round.

The creatures don’t seem to mind that we’re near, and they go back to their foraging.

“That’s an iktar beast?” Galinor asks, gaping at the strange animals .

Archer nods.

“We’ve seen them all over,” I say, irritated. I look at Galinor. “We saw some the day we rode into Gelminshard.”

“The dragons don’t like them, so they are one of the only creatures that thrives here,” Archer explains.

“How do you kill one?”

Pippa shrugs. “You shoot it.”

“But it’s just standing there…looking at us,” I protest.

“Fine.” Pippa’s eyes sparkle. “Galinor, shoot one that isn’t looking at Anwen.”

I can’t do this.

I can’t watch them kill this creature. He doesn’t even have a chance.

“I’m going back.” I turn Mara away from the group.

I hate that I’m riding away like a squeamish girl.

All this will do is remind Galinor how unlike Pippa I am.

Once I enter the gates, I hand Mara to a groom.

Danver runs from the stable, and I scoop him into my arms. Pika should be hiding at the edge of the forest. I hope she doesn’t wander to the gates.

I wait for the party to return. Not long later, they do. They laugh mid-conversation as they ride in. Galinor drags the thing in behind his horse. Archer calls to his men, and they take it to be butchered.

Galinor spots me sitting on a bench, and he comes to me. I study Danver’s fur.

“It’s cold out here.” Galinor touches my cheek. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“I wanted to wait for you.”

Galinor sits next to me. “We’re going to Pippa’s greenhouse now. Would you like to join us? No slaughtering required.”

I glare at him.

He nudges my shoulder, grinning. “Come on.”

Pippa joins us, carrying a muddy mess of weeds. She offers them to me. “Look what I’ve found.”

I gingerly accept them from her. “Thank you?”

Pippa laughs. “It’s water root and kember carrots. I dug them out of the stream bank.”

Galinor rolls his eyes. “She did.”

“This must be your fox.” Pippa peers at Danver. “Galinor also says you have befriended a glasseln?”

I nod.

“Incredible,” she says, wonder in her eyes. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Anwen has a way with animals.” Galinor squeezes my hand. “Dristan has requested she come to Triblue in the spring when the wild horses foal.”

My cheeks go pink with the praise.

Pippa gives me a satisfied smile before she turns to tell Archer to hurry and follow us. She then drags us to her greenhouse for the pansley.

It’s a very unassuming herb—just a green mass of tiny leaves growing in a medium-sized clay pot. Pippa snips off a large clump, wraps the stems in a damp cloth, and then deposits the whole thing in an oil-cloth bag.

“Keep the cloth damp, and they should stay fresh for several days. They may freeze, but it won’t hurt them any.” She adds the washed kember carrots and water root to the bag, and then hands it to me. “I’m sorry you can’t stay longer. Please say you’ll come back and visit. ”

I’m sure Galinor will return.

“Thank you, Pippa,” Galinor says, and then he turns to her husband. “Archer.”

Since we won’t make it to the border today, Archer tells us of a village to stop in with a respectable inn. Instead of retracing our path and going down through Coppel, we will travel south into Glendon and then down to Primewood. I can’t say I’m upset we won’t be seeing more of Gelminshard.

We say our goodbyes. I look back as we leave. Archer’s arm is wrapped around Pippa’s shoulders, and she clings to him as she gives us a big wave goodbye.

They are happy together. Truly happy. I think Galinor realizes it as well because he seems content when we leave.

The door to the gimly’s house swings open as if Ergmin knew exactly when we would return.

“Have any trouble finding the iktar?” He gives us a full, old-man grin.

I bite my tongue and enter the cottage. The gremlin must be off hiding somewhere because he’s not peering from under the table or bounding around the kitchen.

“Here.” I thrust the bag of ingredients at Ergmin. Galinor sets the cloth wrapped loin on the table.

Ergmin eyes the bag and scrunches his brow. “I was hoping you’d put it all together for me.”

Unbelievable .

I take a slow, calming breath. “After we make you this stew, you’ll do the counter-curse?”

Something flickers in Ergmin’s eyes, but he nods. “Yes. After you make the stew, the curse will be finished.”

I haven’t even been home yet. I can’t stand to see Father looking sick and frail again. I ache for this to be over.

Galinor rubs my shoulder as if sensing my patience has reached its limit. “We’ll make it.”

Ergmin’s cat watches with hungry eyes as Galinor prepares the meat. The prince sets me to slicing the potatoes and carrots, a simple task I’m finding surprisingly difficult. My knife slips, narrowly missing my finger. I glare at the blade, bite my lip, and continue slicing.

If the kitchen windows were fitted with glass so the sun could shine in, and if I wasn’t worried about the gremlin appearing at any moment, the task might be a pleasant one.

As it is, however, I just want to be done with it.

I have little trouble with the pansley, though I do nick myself as I slice the water root.

Finally, the stew is bubbling on the stove.

I turn to Ergmin and hold up my hands. “There, it’s done. Will you please— please —do the counter curse now?”

Ergmin sits at the table. “As soon as we’ve enjoyed the stew together.”

I turn to Galinor. “How long until it’s finished?”

“A good stew needs to simmer most of the day,” Ergmin answers for Galinor. He strokes his chin, continuing to think about it. “Yes, it should be ready by this evening. ”

Absolutely not.

I take a step forward. “Listen here—”

“We’d love to share dinner with you,” Galinor interrupts, his eyes widening as he tries to silently tell me to keep my mouth shut.

I grumble, yank out a chair, and sit in it. With my arms crossed, I glower at our host. Ergmin only smiles to himself, and then he produces a stack of cards.

For not wanting to converse in the wagon, the gimly is quite gregarious now. He asks questions about nearby villagers, my parents, and the royal family.

“I don’t get out much.” Ergmin nods to the back, where the furry, sharp-toothed monster must be sleeping. “I used to go to the palace for feasts.” He looks wistful. “But you never know when Brugo will get up to trouble. It’s hard enough to sell my crops.”

Though I feel a twinge of guilt, I won’t let myself feel too badly. He has trapped us here, after all.

We play the game with him for most of the afternoon, and finally, Ergmin pronounces the stew finished. The cooked iktar smells odd. After seeing the creature, it’s not something I’m eager to eat.

Ergmin doesn’t share my hesitance. He digs in, relishing every bite. I pick at mine, mostly eating the carrots and potatoes.

Ergmin wears a satisfied smile, and he pushes his bowl away. “That was good.”

As I wait for him to declare he’s ready to help us, he lights a pipe. I tap my foot, clasp and unclasp my hands, and eventually sigh loudly. Still, Ergmin seems content to enjoy his after-supper smoke .

I glance at Galinor. He too looks impatient, but he is better at hiding it than I am.

Through the cracks in the closed shutters, I see it’s growing dark outside.

“Farmer Ergmin,” I say when I can’t take the wait any longer. “Do you think you could do the counter curse now?”

Ergmin looks at me and then glances at the shutters. With a deep sigh, he sets his pipe aside. “I suppose it is dark now, isn’t it?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I demand.

Ergmin sighs. “There is a time for everything, young lady.”

I open my mouth and then close it again, swallowing back my words. Galinor gives me a helpless shrug when I turn my gaze to him. He’s right. Since Ergmin’s the only one who can undo the curse, we have no choice but to do things his way.

Ergmin takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and then waves his hand three times. His eyes snap open, and he gives me a grim smile. “The curse is lifted.”

I blink at him. “It’s done?”

“That’s right.”

I huff out a breath. “Just like that? That’s all you had to do?”

Ergmin picks up his pipe again, lights it, and takes a large draw before he answers, “What did you expect exactly? A fire display? Something smoldering in a pot?”

I might lunge at the old man.

Since I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a rat or a toad, I think it’s best we leave .

“Thank you,” I say, rising. “I do appreciate your help.”

Ergmin nods.

I grab Galinor’s hand and lead him out of the cottage. I hesitate at the door and turn back. “It’s truly over? No more curse?”

Ergmin nods, his face solemn. “It is truly over.”