Page 23 of The Faerie Handmaid

Morgana took one look at Skye before she turned to Braithe. “Are you all right, brat?”

“I am.” Braithe let her arm fall, and she felt Idhri move closer to her. “We both are.”

Skye unfisted his hand and turned with deliberation toward the newcomers. Braithe thought his shoulder must pain him unbearably, but he gave no sign except for letting his arm hang loose. He inclined his head to Emerlyn, and then to Morgana. “You must be the priestess Morgana.”

Morgana demanded, “What are you doing here, sir?”

Emerlyn spoke before Skye could answer. “Priestess Morgana, I am sorry to tell you that this is Skye, the man Dama Vivyan told you about.” She put her hands on her hips, seeming to grow taller with her growing temper. “Skye. Explain yourself.”

The air around Skye shimmered, but Emerlyn commanded, “No glamours! Answer me now, or I will pass judgment this very moment.”

Skye’s laugh was sour, but there was a thread of unease in it. “I don’t think you have the right to do that,” he said, as his attempted glamour faded. “I have connections in the council.”

“They will not matter if you have harmed one of these people.”

He shrugged, then winced at the movement. An irritating whine came into his voice. “Dama Vivyan wanted me to do something about the boy. Idhri, here. I am following her guidance.”

“Do something?” Morgana asked. “What does that mean?”

Skye cast her a sidelong look. “Do I have to speak to this person, Councillor?”

“She is one of the Nine Priestesses,” Emerlyn said.

“The Nine are human. Why should I care about one of them?”

Emerlyn snapped, “Look again, Skye. Then leave us. We have business.”

“As do I,” he said, but he started out of the kitchen, his steps unsteady as he favored his injured shoulder. He paused to assess Priestess Morgana, and she eyed him with such distaste her upper lip curled. He sniffed and turned toward the door. As he passed the councillor, he muttered, “No one ever said one of the Nine was fae!”

The atmosphere was hardly less tense for Skye’s absence, though Braithe was glad to see the back of him. She took the poker from Idhri’s hands and squeezed his arm in appreciation. “Well done,” she whispered, as she propped the tool back into its stand. “You’re a brave lad.”

Idhri nodded, but his lips trembled as if he were about to weep. He gave her a quick look of apology, then abruptly withdrew to his little room. He had found a curtain somewhere and hung it over the doorway. He slipped behind it and drew it closed, as if it could give him sanctuary.

Unbidden, one of the Temple stanzas came into Braithe’s mind:

Strong is weak and weak is strong.

The clever are foolish,

The innocent wise.

Idhri had proved himself to be strong, despite his youth. She wondered if he was also wise.

“How did Skye get into the guesthouse?” Morgana was saying. She spoke in an even tone, but Braithe, turning, saw the fire in her eyes.

“He lived here at one time,” Emerlyn said. “He knew the cantrip for the door.”

“You should have changed it,” Braithe blurted. She was aware her tone was rude, but she was trying to conceal how frightened she had been.

The councillor answered in a mild tone that indicated she had taken no offense. “Yes.” She was the only one of them evidently unaffected by Skye’s intrusion. “It seems we should.”

“Perhaps you could do that now, Councillor,” Morgana said, her own voice low and tense. “Before someone gets hurt.”

“Someone is already hurt,” Braithe put in. “Skye may have a broken shoulder, but I have no sympathy. He meant to harm Idhri.”

“I’m sure he did,” Emerlyn said. Her own tone was dry, with no hint of emotion. “Skye is fae, so there is no need for concern. If his shoulder is broken, it will heal quickly. And of course, if he disposes of Idhri, he will not receive the full penalty. That’s why he came.”

“Disposes,” Morgana said. “That is a euphemism, I assume?”