Page 2 of Raven Rebel (Sablewood #1)
Brenna
B renna trod with caution around the deeply gouged wheel tracks cut through the putrid mud.
The overcast sky, bruised with lavender, pressed over the structures that grew larger as she progressed south.
Wisps of coal smoke wrapped around the line of chimneys that shifted from clay and mud to fieldstone and finally to brick lined with ornamental trim.
Pulling her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders, she trudged up the hill to the imposing two-story structure at the end of the lane. Symmetrical windows with glossy black shutters stared down at her, framing a polished mahogany door with a golden wolf’s head knocker in the center.
She bypassed the front steps and circled around the hollyhock hedge to the servant’s entrance. Dusty heat washed over her as she stepped onto the scuffed wood floors .
“Brenna,” a worn-out voice greeted her. The graying housekeeper eyed her from the kitchen, her mouth pinched into a displeased line. “Come in. I have the children’s breakfast ready.”
Scones surrounded petite pots of jam and cream on a platter, awaiting her. As she reached for it, the old woman grabbed her arm. Her rough fingers scraped the delicate skin of her wrist. “Master Lyndhurst is in a foul mood today, so make sure the children do not disturb him.”
“Yes, Mrs. Fisher. Thank you.” Brenna’s curtsy was stilted, the housekeeper’s grip restrictive and her face stern. Finally, she released her and watched suspiciously as Brenna carefully lifted the dish and walked to the family’s dining room.
Brenna’s shoulders relaxed as she stepped into the bright space.
Thick, wavy glass filled the windows, diluting the morning light that fell across purple, fluted blooms of wolfsbane drooping in a crystal vase at the center of the heavy table.
A sleepy girl slumped in a high-backed chair, her rosy cheek pressed against the damask tablecloth.
Her brother sat straight as a sapling beside her, a book laid open on the table before him.
From the floor, their younger brother whinnied and waved his stuffed horse in the air.
“Good morning, my loves.” She brushed the girl’s tousled hair off her forehead. Lottie sat up when she noticed the pastries, already reaching for them.
The platter clinked as Brenna set it down and began slicing the scones in half. She set one on a plate and slid it beside Herman’s book. “Hermie, what are you reading there?”
The boy scrunched his face, torn between the desire to share about his book and wanting to be obtuse. His excitement won out. “ It’s about history! About the par-par-parli-mans where Uncle works, and how the queen makes the rules.”
“How grown up,” Brenna said, enjoying the proud smile on Herman's face as she slathered jam and cream onto Lottie’s scone.
“It sounds awfully boring to me!” Lottie chimed in, doing her best to take small lady-like bites, though more of her pastry crumbled to the table than made it into her mouth.
The youngest, Clarence, scrambled into his chair beside his sister. Without hesitation, he shoved his breakfast into his mouth, leaving a glob of red jam on the edge of his lips.
Napkin in hand, Breanna reached for the youngest Lyndhurst child. The moment the linen touched his face, he jerked away, smearing the jam so it looked like a streak of blood across his cheek.
“Clarence, you’re an absolute mess now. It’s time to wash up.” He whined and pushed back from the table to escape her, but she was faster, gathering up the squirming boy and carrying him to the washroom to rinse his hands and face.
When they returned, Lottie announced, “I dreamed about bunnies in the forest.”
Brenna sank down beside her, dressing a scone for herself. “Really, what happened?”
Crumbs sprung from her lips as Lottie continued, “The bunnies were having races. And I got to give flowers to the winner and then they ate them!”
“That sounds lovely,” Brenna murmured, scraping the excess jam off the remainder of Clarence’s scone to prevent a second mess. “So the bunnies ate the flowers?”
Lottie laughed. “No, the foxes ate the bunnies. ”
“Oh, of course. You know, girl bunnies are called does.” The two older children weren’t listening but had started arguing about which forest creatures they could beat in a race.
Brenna rolled her eyes and took a bite of her scone. The buttery pastry melted in her mouth, the warm tang of rhubarb and ginger jam cutting through the richness.
After breakfast was tidied, the children curled up around Brenna as she read from their newest storybook.
A brave prince battled vicious faeries to rescue a fair princess.
Despite Brenna’s animated storytelling, soon they grew restless.
Remembering Mrs. Fisher’s warning, she herded the children outside.
They ran through the garden with joyful shrieks and squeals.
Brenna perched on a garden chair, letting the sunlight caress her skin and warm her from the inside out.
She wished they could stay outside all day, but eventually Herman and Lottie began to quarrel, and the housekeeper called them in for a luncheon.
After a cold meal of cheese sandwiches and sugared pears, they retired to the nursery.
Herman settled by the window with his book in his lap while Brenna knelt between the younger children’s low beds.
She traced circles on their backs with the tips of her fingernails.
Clarence was asleep within seconds, his lashes thick on his chubby cheeks.
Lottie rolled over, sniffling dramatically. “Miss Brenna, Hermie said since I was bad, the faeries are going to take me away.”
“Sweetheart, nothing like that will happen.” She wiped away the girl’s tears and smoothed her hair. “The fae don’t take humans. They have their own girls and boys. And Queen Malacia protects us, remember? So any time you feel afraid… ”
Lottie let out a snuffly snore, stopping Brenna’s speech.
She wanted to tell her that most faeries were normal folk, albeit with a few inhuman features and according to some, the ability to wield magic.
The traveling merchants that supplied her mother’s shop often spoke of the fae, some good and some bad.
But if Lottie repeated any of that, her father would dismiss Brenna. It was inadvisable to speak of faeries as anything but monsters in Liosliath.
Sighing, she straightened her apron. With one last glance at Herman, who resolutely ignored her and turned a page in his book, she headed to the door. It was best that she clean up while the children rested.