Twelve Days of Faery Read Online Free Page B

Fortunately that was meant to be cold.
    “I thought it might have something to do with pies,” Althea said. “Your forebears seem to have had a hearty appetite for them. Not to mention a fascination with dark and dreary tapestries up and down the galleries.”
    “Speaking of dark and dreary, have you actually met Doctor Romalier?”
    “Not in so many words,” said Althea, her eyes deepening blue in amusement. “He seemed a bit upset when we er, bumped into each other. I gather he doesn’t like sharing his toys. Or maybe he minds who he shares them with. That’s not important. What is important is that I’ve found someone for us to talk to.”
    “Us?”
    “I thought you’d like the chance to observe things first hand.”
    “Yes,” said Markon, realising that that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to be away from trade agreements and stuffy international intrigue, and he wanted to tag along with Althea and see exactly what she was up to. “Yes, that’s a good idea. How did you find this someone?”
    “I took a meal in the upper kitchen,” said Althea. “They would have called me out right away in the lower kitchen– that or gone very formal and m’lady this and m’lady that. But in the upper kitchen they were all very relaxed and easy to talk to. I may have given them the impression that I was a visiting lady’s maid.”
    “Given the impression?”
    Althea looked slightly conscious. “Well, I never actually said that, but I may have talked about my lady liking her breakfast late, and being impatient with her dressing taking too long. Of course, the talk all came around to the prince’s predicament, and one of the girls almost said something before she caught herself.”
    “That’s not a lot to go on,” said Markon. He’d been hoping for something more certain.
    “Nonsense,” Althea said. “There’s a world of meaning in the almost-saids of the worlds. It’s just a matter of making sure you don’t take away the wrong almost-said. Besides, she looked frightened of whatever it was she didn’t say.”
    “Who is she?”
    “One of your upper housemaids. I understand that she and another girl are in charge of the curtains.”
    “The curt– what curtains?”
    “All of them. Well, all of them except yours and the prince’s, of course.”
    “Do you mean to say that she goes around the castle all day opening and closing curtains?”
    Althea nodded. “Apparently there’s a rotation. It follows the sun around the castle and makes sure that all the rooms get enough to light them but not enough to ruin the furniture. If a room has guests, the curtains stay open all day. There’s a knack to it, Annerlee says.”
    “Who is Annerlee?”
    “She’s the girl we’re going to see,” said Althea, placing her peach pit on Markon’s tray. He watched in fascination as she licked her fingers with great solemnity. “You can bring your pie.”
    “I may have misunderstood the idea of your investigation,” said Markon, rising and following her instinctively. “But won’t my presence make her less likely to talk?”
    “It would if you looked like you,” Althea said.
    “Yes, but I do look like me,” Markon said, trailing after her as she stepped purposefully from the library and down the hall.
    Althea shot him a quick, cautious look that had him wondering what she’d done. “You don’t, actually.”
    She gestured at one of the windows as they passed it, and Markon caught their reflection. Rather to his shock the reflection showed Althea and a stranger dressed in a footman’s livery, his long face at the same time familiar and alien.
    Markon stopped short and took a step toward that traitorous reflection. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of someone being able to do this to him without his knowing.
    “I can take it off if you like,” said Althea, a troubled line between her brows. “It’s just a glamour affecting perception of your face and figure. It’s not really changed