Page 31 of The Pactbound Angel (The Soul Mirror Duet #1)
“Lady Nathalia Swordhand of Camlynn in Laeth. This is my sister, Lady Raewyn Swordhand.” I moved my hand to indicate Ramiren. “Ramiren, the pactmaker. And-”
The lord interrupted me, “Ramiren? Yes, of course. You are known to me. We struck a pact some years ago. I am not sure if you recall.” He peered at Ramiren, then looked back at me. “I am Lord Remus Dalson, Earl of Longberry from Wistran.” He bowed. “And your other companions?”
“This is Georgina, the tinkerer. And her automaton, M.A.L.C.O.L.M.”
M.A.L.C.O.L.M. raised his bound hands to wave.
“Come. This way to the feasthall, where we celebrate the life of the general. Please.” He stepped aside and motioned forward with his hand, indicating we should follow.
He began to walk toward a set of tall double doors across a long courtyard.
The low din of a raucous gathering could be heard, muffled by the thick doors in front of us.
He was cheerful, even bubbly, which was a welcome change from the grumpy guards I’d just been verbally assaulted by. “You shall sit at my table, of course. I brought only a small company with me, so there is plenty of room. All will be welcomed tonight.”
Georgina snickered. “Not by the guards, though.”
Lord Dalson hummed. “Ah, yes. They are on high alert. Rumor has it the general was poisoned. After all, how many elves die in their sleep, especially one so young?”
“Exactly my thoughts, Lord Dalson,” Ramiren pondered. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Quite right, Ramiren. Quite right.” The earl led the way as we proceeded to the feasthall.
He raised his voice above the noise to be heard as the double doors were opened by two guards at our approach.
“But not a topic for the dinner table, I think. Swordhand, you said? Your family name is well-known in Wistran. I do believe your parents were successful in securing a mighty prize for the kingdom. I trust you followed in their footsteps?”
I replied, “In my father’s footsteps, yes.”
“Splendid. Perhaps you and I can discuss it, then. Strange things have been happening there of late.”
“Oh? What strange things?” I decided to press, too tired to dance around the matter. “Perhaps something to do with a mischief hag residing in the middle of your capital? I would have figured her kind would not be welcomed in civilization.”
He looked pleasantly surprised at my statement.
“That’s what I am referring to, aye. She came to live with the king and queen perhaps a few months ago now.
No one can speak ill of her, even when she began stealing from people.
She steals everything she can, beyond abilities.
Wealth, gold mines, even land. No harsh word is allowed.
A few tried to reason with the king and queen, but they were imprisoned for their talk.
Now, she is simply tolerated. Strange! Strange goings-on.
Some say she’s bewitched the king and queen. ”
We were escorted to a half-empty table and seated ourselves. Servants brought over plates, utensils, and full carafes of wine, placing them in front of us.
The feasthall was brightly bedecked with banners of all sorts.
Many had sigils, very few that were known to me, displayed to indicate those in attendance.
The king sat at the head table at the front of the room.
He was an older, possibly lusc, fey with wrinkles around the eyes and a careworn frown on his mouth.
He looked even more tired than that innkeeper earlier.
I squinted. Come to think of it, there's a resemblance between that innkeeper and the king.
My attention was diverted when platters and bowls of steaming food were set in front of us, one at a time.
Warm bread, butter-dressed peas with mint, an overly-decorated stuffed goose, pies, and boiled potatoes dredged in what smelled like a garlic sauce.
My stomach rumbled in protest, though I side-eyed the gaudy goose.
“Oh, gods, I am starving ,” Raewyn exclaimed, and she began to dig into the pies first.
Calmly, I helped myself to the potatoes while a member of the staff sliced sections of goose for the table. It took all my resolve to not eat as Raewyn was, as I too was starving. Ramiren poured everyone wine. Georgina eyed Raewyn with disgust. “Aren’t you supposed to be a lady?”
Raewyn merely shrugged, her mouth too full to respond.
“Because you look like a squirrel with a mouthful of nuts.”
Raewyn swallowed her food before speaking. “And bolts. You really can’t forget the bolts, Georgina.”
Georgina bared her teeth at my grinning sister before resuming eating.
M.A.L.C.O.L.M. beeped, and for once he was not the loudest thing in the room. “CAN I HAVE SOME PIE, GEORGINA?”
“No,” Georgina yelled back. “For the last time, you don’t need to eat. ”
Beep. “WHEN DO I GET MY BOWTIE? CAN I PICK IT OUT MYSELF?”
Georgina stopped, a fork halfway to her mouth, and groaned. “I had forgotten.” She eyed me, assessing. “But we haven’t secured rooms yet, just a meal and a place to sit down.”
I narrowed my eyes in challenge and rested my hand on the earl’s sleeve to get his attention. I raised my voice enough to be heard. “Do you know of any vacant accommodations we could use for the evening? All of the inns are full.”
The earl bowed his head. “The castle is quite as stuffed as that goose, my dear, but I still have some room in my own apartments. I’d be honored to house the children of Maxlian Swordhand and Resa Kett. And friends, of course.” The earl raised his wine glass to Ramiren and Georgina.
“Most kind of you, Lord Dalson,” I said, wondering what he was expecting in return.
Beep. “I WANT A PINK ONE WITH RED DOTS THAT MATCH MY EYES WHEN I’M ANGRY. SO PEOPLE KNOW I MEAN BUSINESS.”
Georgina grimaced while Raewyn pressed a napkin to her mouth to hide her laughter. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” the gnome moaned as she dropped her fork onto her plate.
M.A.L.C.O.L.M. motioned with his bound hands towards the goose. Beep. “BUT I THOUGHT YOU LIKED CROW.”