Page 5 of Pippa of Lauramore (The Eldentimber #1)

We both watch the door close behind her, and then he turns to me, grinning. “How was music?”

“I’m horrible.”

“Your mother is very gifted in the musical arts. I’m sure your gift is hiding in you as well.”

He’s only teasing me. We both know how terrible I am.

“It’s not fair you got roped into teaching me with the village events going on today,” I say, tapping the map. There are so many places I’ve learned about but never been to.

Sir Kimble shrugs. “It’s only an hour, and Archer is handling the archery tournament, so I’m not needed right now.”

I feel my blood boil just hearing his name. When I get my hands on him?—

“Now.” Kimble cracks his knuckles and grins. “What should we learn today?”

“Tell me about somewhere far away.” I lay my head on the map. “Tell me about Ptarma again.”

Ptarma, my mother’s kingdom, is the most beautiful kingdom in the world, at least in my mind. It’s weeks and weeks to the west by ship. I’ve never been there, though Mother has been back a few times.

I met two of my uncles once, and my grandparents have visited many times. While here, they told me about the large white marble cliffs, brightly blooming flowers as big as your fist, and herb gardens that flourish all year because it never gets cold.

When I was little, I thought they were the most beautiful people.

Their hair ranges from blond to brown, but they all have copper in it like Alexander.

Mother’s hair is a rich, deep auburn—a much-envied color, Grandfather told me.

They all marveled over my dark red hair and its gold ends, making me feel special.

Mother told them it fades because I spend so much time in the sun.

But Grandmother told me it’s because I was kissed by a fairy as a baby.

I like her theory better.

“Let us talk about Vernow,” Sir Kimble says, suddenly serious.

My head jerks up. “Don’t you start with me too!”

“Lionel is a good match, Pippa, and he’s expected to win.” His forehead creases, and he doesn’t look happy about the idea. At least one of my family members isn’t as mad as the others.

“He’s horrible, Uncle.”

He scowls. “I’m disappointed you would judge him on his looks. You are wiser—and kinder—than that.”

My eyebrows knit, and I squirm a little.

I think it over before I respond. “You are right. I have been critical of that, and that’s not fair to Lionel.

” I pause, and Sir Kimble nods. “But it’s not just that.

It’s his character. He’s so bitter. I don’t understand it.

He was kind as a child. Even when I was young, and Percival and Alexander didn’t want a thing to do with me, he would keep me company and point out insects and rocks and tell me what they were.

I wasn’t terribly interested, but at least he was nice. He’s hard now—and cold.”

“Vernow is a huge, wealthy kingdom rich in trade, fertile land, ore, and fish. Being the heir to that kind of empire would be a great blessing and a heavy burden.”

I shake my head. “Percival isn’t like Lionel.”

Sir Kimble sighs. “Your father isn’t like his father.”

I’m feeling thoroughly scolded, which often happens with my uncle. He lets me think about what he said, and I trace the map with my finger. After a moment, I look up. “I still can’t marry him.”

He nods. “I know.”

We’re silent for several seconds.

“So…what kingdom are we going to review?” I ask, getting back to the subject at hand.

He smiles. “Glendon is very nice.”

I glance up from my embroidery, irritated my thread has knotted, and find Anna rubbing her temple. She’s pale and purposely facing away from the window—not the position you want to be in to do needlework.

“Are you all right?” I raise an eyebrow, but I already know what’s wrong.

She’s getting one of her headaches. Mother gets them, and I do as well. Anna says it’s a family curse. Poor Anna gets them more frequently than either Mother or I do, though.

“My vision is a little spotty.” She waves her needle at me as if she’s fine.

“You need to lie down.”

She pins me with her eyes. “And leave you here alone? That’s likely.”

“Your stomach will feel ill if you don’t,” I argue. “Go rest. I’ll go to Yuven and get you some tea.”

“You swear to me you’ll come right back?”

“Would I leave you in pain?” I demand.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Anna softens and stands, setting her embroidery on the chair. “All right.”

I follow her to her room and then make my way down to the kitchens.

Yuven’s study is just off the hall. Mother has tried to get him to move to somewhere larger, but he likes having access to the gardens, so he stays here.

But because the room gets little natural light, and Anna sits here with me while she does needlework, my stoic guardian still nags the poor herbalist to relocate.

And we are here often—apprenticing Yuven is my mother’s favorite punishment.

“Yuven?” I call, walking through the door.

He’s not at his workbench, so I check the herb garden out his back door. I would make Anna’s tea myself, but I’m a little nervous about working with the herbs in the recipe.

I find him hunched over with a pair of sheers, snapping away at a flowering yallow.

“Pippa!” He straightens when he sees me. His black hair is in all directions, as usual. He has dirt on his trousers from kneeling on the ground, and his hands are stained yellow from the yallow. “Have they changed their mind? Are you to spend your punishment with me?”

Yuven looks overjoyed. It’s always baffled me how he takes it in stride that assisting him is considered a punishment.

I step forward and flick a wayward twig out of his hair. He turns bright red, which makes me grin. “No, I’m here to collect tea for Anna.”

“Headache again?” He tries to smooth his wayward hair down with the hand that isn’t clutching the bouquet of herbs.

I nod, and he leads me to his workbench. Before he makes the tea, he arranges the cut yallow in a vase. Unhappy with the arrangement, he pulls out a few stems and then inserts them again in different spots.

Finally unable to help myself, I ask, “Whatever are you doing?”

The herbalist glances up and blushes an even brighter red than he did in the garden. “Do you like them? They are for…someone.”

“ Really, ” I exclaim, teasing him. “Do I know her?”

He purses his lips as if he can’t decide if he should tell me. “She’s one of the garden maids.”

“Which one?” I press.

“Lissy,” he says. “You probably don’t know her.”

“Are you sure you want to give her yallow?”

I peer at his yellow fingers, and his face falls. “I thought it was pretty.”

“Oh, it is pretty,” I say in a rush. “I’m sure she’ll like it.”

Yuven sets the vase to the edge of his workbench and pulls out the dried herbs I recognize as ingredients for Anna’s tea. I watch him closely as he chops the kerrabells.

“Are you sure you don’t have too much there?” I ask, my voice anxious.

He raises his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Go on.”

“If Anna has a headache, who do they have on guard duty?” he asks, teasing.

I grin. “No one that I know of.”

“Well, if you find yourself in the woods, I could use more merryming and some waterchivel.”

“You’ll cover for me?”

He hands me the package of finished tea. “Don’t I always?”