All's Fair (Fair Folk Chronicles Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

father's armor,” Tiernan said. “Our last gifts, as it were.”
    Ashling's voice suddenly piped up again. "What about the second-to-last?"
    Tiernan's dark eyes narrowed. “I don't recall any second-to-last gifts.”
    “Not for you,” Ashling acknowledged offhandedly, “But the King kept up an end of the gift exchange when Megan gave him the cauldron.”
    “I believe her Majesty then inherited the cauldron, so—”
    “—but she's right. I never did pick up that bookmark. Botticelli, he said. Where do you suppose it is?”
    “Well, it's like the old routine: 'Where do you hide a flower? In a garden. Where do you hide a corpse? On a battlefield. Where do you hide a book? In a library.”
    “... Are you sure the punchline is supposed to be in that order? Nevermind. Okay.” Megan nodded to Tiernan. “Good to see you, Majesty.”
    “And you.”
     
     
     

Chapter 5: Perfect Sense
     
    Megan sang the little song that unlocked the door to her Father's suite. As soon as they entered the room, The Count flew up to settle onto the windowsill while Ashling, unusually quiet, remained settled on Megan's shoulder.
    “Why didn't he go to the statue over the door?” Megan asked. The crow had perched there whenever he could for two years.
    “The Count's too depressed for Poe.”
    That was worrying. Megan looked around.
    Her father's room had gone nearly untouched, evidenced both by the layer of dust over everything, and the tiny pixie and crow footprints in some of the dust on the bookshelves. Megan had left the briarmail in its case since the most recent Dance, unable to bear wearing it again. The room was still in its former state of organized chaos, more cluttered than actually messy. There were clear paths through everything, making particularly certain that every book on the array of shelves could be reached.
    The only part of the room that was kept entirely clear was the space around her father's favorite painting. It might not move the way the leaves and butterflies painting in Megan's room did, but it managed to be nearly as lifelike anyway.
    No matter how many times Megan saw the picture, she still swore that the eyes of the Goddess Brigid followed her when she moved. The woman's expression was one of peace, but her gaze was intense anyway. The grass almost seemed to sway around the legs of the calf resting at one side of the goddess, her hand on its head. The leaves in the trees did likewise, including the tree the snake wound its way out from, encircling the goddess's other arm.
    Megan stared at it for a while, then paused. “Sorry. All due respect—lots—but my Dad gave me this bit of Botticelli, and I think I need to focus on finding it," she said, finally tearing her eyes away from the painting and moving back towards the books. "Do you have any idea which one it is?" she asked the pixie.
    "Absolutely," Ashling said, gesturing towards one of the many shelves. "It's the one with the Botticelli fragment in it. It's probably on that shelf. If not, it's on one of the others."
    At the start of the commentary, Megan started to thank her, then heard the rest of it and decided against it. "Since you're being so helpful, want to help me look?"
    "I'd love to," Ashling agreed, hopping off of Megan's shoulder onto a bookshelf, starting to scale around in search of the right book.
    "I thought pixies were good at finding things," Megan said, starting to look for the proper scrap as well, among her father's diverse and occasionally disturbing literature.
    "Places. Pixies are good at finding places. Which sometimes leads to things, but not usually books. See, books cheat. Really good books are dozens of places at once."
    Megan set to looking through the books, pulling them out one at a time, looking for the match. At first, she looked over the title of every book. The majority were in languages she didn't read, but she made an effort.
    “ Von ainem wutrich der hies Trakle waida von der Walachei.” Megan read a very slim,