Page 23 of A Spell of Heart & Havoc

“Ah, alright—Lumelle.” Dove sipped again, then continued, “Well, you see. It’s come to my attention that there are some, um, recently orphaned children here in the priory, as well as in the village. I want to—that is, I’m hoping you’ll allow me to—ah, make a donation of coin toward their care.”

Strange. She actually seemed to be serious about this. Had to give her a tiny bit of credit for that. It was more than her parents had done, at least.

Lumelle hummed, stirring a sugar cube into their tea. “It’s a kind thought, Dovenesdrea. Why?”

“Why?”

“Why do you wish to make a donation?”

Baffled, Dove set her mug down. “I—well, I assume they need help. From what I heard, it sounded like they’ve lost… lost everything.”

The elder nodded, tufted white hair swaying above their head. “Most everything, yes. They have been in the priory’s care for some months now. And so, you wish to help? Why?”

“Do I need to provide a reason?” Dove’s voice sharpened.

“Not necessarily.” Lumelle shrugged and took a long gulp of tea. “I am simply curious. And I feel that the goddess is as well. Humor an old person and their immortal deity.”

A long silence followed before Dove spoke again. Quietly, she said, “I don’t know. I just want to do something. And this is all I can do for them.”

“Ahh. I see, I see.” The prioress shifted to the edge of their seat to rest a knobby hand on Dove’s arm for a moment before settling back with a sigh. After a pause, they said, “Well, my dear, it is a kind gesture, and anything you give will be used for the care and well-being of the orphans. We accept on one condition.”

“A… condition?”

“I invite you to come and spend three mornings a week here, in the priory, with the children.”

“With the—but, Prioress. I mean, Lumelle—what am I to do with them?” Dove threw a panicked glance at me, and I shrugged back.

Here it was. Giving coin was one thing—nobles loved to give an easy donation occasionally to ease their guilt—but committing her time was another. Dove would never follow through on this.

The elder shifted comfortably in their seat and plucked a cookie from a nearby plate. “Oh, I’m confident you’ll figure something out. What skills could you teach them?”

“Nothing!” Dove cried. “I don’t know how to do anything that would be useful to a group of village youths!”

Lumelle gave her a stern look over the tops of their spectacles. “I doubt that very much.”

“She paints,” I said from my corner, ignoring the bewildered look Dove threw my way. Petra had told me proudly that the big colorful canvases I’d admired in Dove’s rooms were all done by the lady herself. And as annoying as I found my charge, I had to admit that she clearly had talent. Though I’d shave my whole head before ever admitting that to her. Eyebrows included.

“Perfect! Art feeds one’s soul. The children will love that. Painting class it is then. Maerryl, can you please duck out and make arrangements with Orinno? He should be just down the hall, in the infirmary. Dovenesdrea and I will discuss details here a bit longer.” I rose quickly as Lumelle held out a plate toward Dove. “Pecan shortbread, dear? They’re fresh from the kitchens. Huge bumper crop of nuts on the grounds this year! Tell me—how are the manor’s trees faring lately? I met a few of them some years ago, when I wandered off my hiking trail one summer. Fine, sturdy trunks. You are lucky to be blessed with such neighbors…”

I didn’t give Dove a chance to protest my leaving. Slipping through the curtain, I left her baffled murmurs behind. The prioress knew what they were doing. They’d given me a window, and I wasn’t going to squander it.

Without a backward glance, I rushed down the hall.

11

DOVE

By the time we left the priory, I’d been stuffed full of pecan shortbread and tea, my head was spinning, and I was seriously questioning whether I should ever leave the manor estate again.

The golden light of the afternoon washed over the forest path as Lightning took me back home. Somehow, the morning seemed to have slipped deep into the afternoon. I thought back over everything that had happened in this strange day. The race across the grounds, the village shopping, the old man spitting at my feet, the icy shock of what he’d told me. My ridiculous rush to prove… something. To him, the villagers, Maerryl. Myself.

The unassuming beauty of the priory, and the serenity that trickled over me the longer we stayed there. My conversation with Prioress the Elder and their absurd request that I give the orphans painting lessons.

It’s not so absurd. I do have the supplies, I suppose. Perhaps they’d enjoy it.

Perhaps I’d enjoy it too.

I snuck a look at my bodyguard. She was quiet, unusually so. And now that I thought of it, she’d also been mostly silent while we were at the priory. A reprieve from her tiresome commentary, to be sure, but still a bit odd. She probably had a nice laugh with the acolytes about me when she ducked out of the room. The rich twit’s going to drag me here every other day to try her hand at teaching now. Haven’t those orphans been through enough? My grip tightened around the leather reins.