LADY ELEANOR RETURNED alone to beg me to rejoin the ball. “The success of the evening depends on you. People are clamoring to dance with the guest of honor.”
I went and danced for hours with a succession of partners, including Squire Jerrold, but now he was almost indistinguishable from the others. My fickle hands (washed and gloved again) tingled at every touch. My appetite reawakened.
At the end of each dance, I started for the library, where there would be food, but each time, a new partner appeared. I could have said I had to eat. Everyone would have liked that. Some would have followed me to watch.
Shame and rage kept me dancing.
Finally, most of the guests left. Supper was announced for the elect who had been asked to stay.
Meaning to be kind, I was sure, Lady Eleanor had seated me with Wormy on my left and Squire Jerrold on my right. I edged my chair closer to the squire and wished Wormy were across the table—or miles away. His nearness almost rocketed me to the ceiling.
Wormy’s dainty young lady sat across the table from us and a little farther from Lady Eleanor than we were.
Squire Jerrold, after inquiring about my pleasure in the evening and receiving a polite answer, addressed himself to Mistress Daria on his right. I noticed the measured pace of her speech, careful and deliberate as he was. I’d been mad to think he might ever love me.
The king, seated in a high-backed armchair, headed the table. He had regained the health he’d probably had before the blight, but I wished he’d grown stouter. He couldn’t have been much older than Mother, whose face was barely lined. Though King Imbert’s hair had just a few strands of gray, his forehead was deeply furrowed, which, I allowed, might be inevitable in a caring king. But he didn’t have to have puffs under his eyes. Was he sleeping badly? And he didn’t have to slump in his chair. Nothing ages a person as much as slumping.
Lord and Lady Evesby, Lady Eleanor’s parents, flanked the king. Lady Eleanor sat between her father and Sir Peter. She smiled happily at the scoundrel. He smiled fondly at her, but his eyes flicked to King Imbert, who seemed to have eyes only for him, too. Each leaned forward so they might see the other.
Wormy was conversing with the ancient man on his left. I stared down at my empty plate. When would food arrive?
The humans seemed not to care. Their voices were untroubled. People glanced at me, looked away, glanced again, politely not staring.
Servants filed in, bearing plates. I tried to ignore the stink of vegetables, bread, spices, cider. A trembling arm rounded my head. If I hadn’t steadied it, the plate would have dumped its contents.
Surrounding my modest slice of roast beef were poached carrots! Creamed asparagus! Beetroot pancakes!
How could Mandy have? I began to push back my chair. I’d find out if an enchanted ogre could punch a fairy—
—when the scents reached me. The carrots smelled like lamb, the asparagus like rabbit, the pancakes like goat. Small magic at its best.
King Imbert picked up his fork. All eyes snapped to me.
See the ogre eat. With closed lips, I smiled around the table, cut a dainty morsel, and inserted it, barely opening my mouth. Without a doubt disappointed, the other guests addressed their own meals.
The false vegetables were more delicious than the undisguised beef, more intensely flavored, the distilled essence of meat. My server set an individual carafe in front of me. Before she could attempt to pour into my goblet, I did the job myself. I closed my eyes as beef broth sang an aria in my mouth.
Polite conversation swirled around me. Lady Eleanor was raising a bite of food to Sir Peter’s lips. His hand guided hers.
Wormy continued to chat with the guest on his left, whose rasp suggested a sore throat. The woman directly across the table from me chewed only on the right side of her mouth. Toothache. I remembered AAng. And her head, back on a pike.
Lady Evesby coughed genteelly. People put down their forks. Annoyed, I did, too. She thanked everyone for coming and said her daughter wished to speak.
Lady Eleanor stood. “How many here were saved by Mistress Evora?”
Six raised their hands, including King Imbert, Sir Peter, and Squire Jerrold. If more of the guests lived at the king’s castle, there would have been additional hands.
“How many of you have family members saved by her?”
Three others, including Mistress Daria, plus four of the first six. Over a quarter of the guests. In my mind I begged Lady Eleanor, Tell them to consult me even when they’re not dying!
“How many of you danced as her partner or in a quadrille with her?”
More than half had. Everyone smiled approvingly at me, or because they approved of themselves for courage and open-mindedness.
Lady Eleanor went on. “I’m honored to call her my friend. I hope her stay in Frell will be long. I hope she prospers among us.” She paused. “I am relying on you to contradict any gossip about her that you may hear.”
The listening silence was broken by a cough and by people shifting in their chairs. My kind friend had discomfited her guests.
“May I speak?” Mistress Daria said.
Lady Eleanor nodded. “Of course, dear.”
Mistress Daria told everyone I’d saved her parents. “I myself am rarely ill, but if I have so much as an uneasy stomach, I’ll hasten to Mistress Evie.”
Squire Jerrold said he would, too, then had to add, “I, too, am lucky enough to have almost constant good health.”
People would conclude that only the hale would want to see me.
But Wormy spoke up, too. “In Jenn, where my good parents live, Mistress Evie has treated my afflictions for years. My health”—he took a deep breath—“has been uncertain.” Another breath. “Or my imaginings have been dire.”
His sweetheart smiled at him for the confession. I wondered if I’d heard right. When had he realized he wasn’t always sick when he thought he was?
Servers took plates away, though mine wasn’t empty. My fork vibrated as my server lifted it. Was the meal over? Could I leave?
But no one stood, except Sir Peter. “Sire, Lord Evesby, Lady Evesby, Mistress Evie, ladies and gentlemen, tonight I am at a crossroad, as I was when I chose to start toward the Fens. Then—”
I stiffened and so did Squire Jerrold next to me.
“—my choice was between safety and risk.” He managed to blush. “As you know, I chose risk.” His eyes circled the table and slid past me. “This time the road leads to joy or despair, but I’m hopeful.” He smiled down at Lady Eleanor, who smiled up at him and seemed to glow.
No!
Would Lucinda come?
My ogre ears heard someone enter. Mandy stood in the doorway, her face intent.
Sir Peter took Lady Eleanor’s hands in his. “My darling—”
Faugh! The stink of lilacs. A beaming Lucinda stood behind Lady Eleanor and Sir Peter.
I jumped up. “Lucinda! Please—”
For an instant, her expression became solemn. I found myself sitting again.
Lucinda! No sound came out.
The fairy jumped in place, as might an excited child. “Continue, young sir.”
“Who are you?” King Imbert said, twisting to see her.
She gave him a dazzling smile. “I am the fairy Lucinda. I regret missing your proposal and wedding many years ago. You’d be happier now if I’d been there.”
Lady Eleanor paled. Her eyes found Mandy, who also looked frightened.
The king’s eyes bulged. “How dare—”
“Continue, young sir.”
“How dare—”
“Hush.”
King Imbert said nothing further.
Sir Peter bowed to the fairy. “You honor us with your presence.”
“Continue.”
He took Lady Eleanor’s hand again. “Sweet, please ensure my happiness. I admire you beyond what I can express. Your goodness, your excellent mind, your kind heart, your beauty beyond”—he glanced at the fairy—“human compare. I will always love you as much as I do today. Will you make me happy forever and marry me?”
“Er . . .” Lady Eleanor turned to Mandy.
Mandy nodded. Her hands clutched each other, knuckles white.
“Er . . .” Lady Eleanor said. “Will you grant a wish, Lucinda?”
She smiled. “I may. What wish?”
“Er . . . Will you . . . er . . . give Sir Peter and me this moment in private, just the two of us?”
Ah. She and Mandy had prepared for such a crisis.
“Without me?” Lucinda frowned. “I mean the best for you. Lovers”—she touched her chest—“have their most ardent friend in me. Your wish is foolish, and I won’t grant it.”
Why didn’t Mandy send her away? How could it be big magic to keep a fellow fairy from doing big magic?
Lucinda went on. “And this young man has waited long enough for his answer.”
Say yes, I thought. Now you mustn’t say no.
“Say yes, Lady,” Mandy said.
Sir Peter looked charmingly confused.
Lady Eleanor drew her shoulders back. “I would have said yes anyway. Yes, my love. I will marry you.”
“Hurrah!” Lucinda applauded.
The guests joined in. I didn’t move.
“What shall I give you to guarantee your happiness?” A hint of a frown returned. “Young lady, you did promise to marry him, didn’t you?”
“Certainly, I did.”
“Excellent! Then my gift is that neither of you will ever break your promises to each other, beginning with your consent. He has sworn to love you as much as he does right now, and you pledged to marry him.”
Lady Eleanor laughed. “I’ll take care with my promises from now on.”
Lucinda smiled uncertainly. “I suppose that’s wise.” She disappeared.
Now Lady Eleanor had to marry Sir Peter, no matter what she discovered about him.
“Congratulations, my dears,” King Imbert said. “Lady Eleanor, you are a lucky young woman.”
Sir Peter protested that the good fortune was his.
Lord and Lady Evesby embraced their daughter. Toasts were made. Only we four—Mandy, Squire Jerrold, Wormy, and I—didn’t share in the delight.
After the toasts, the king spoke, his tone dry. “How fortunate we are tonight”—his eyes flicked to me and away—“to have an ogre and to have had a fairy with us.” He stood. “This is a joyous moment, and I intend to make it more so. A month from now, while Lady Eleanor and Lord and Lady Evesby prepare for the wedding, my dear Sir Peter will lead an expedition against the ogres.”
I’d be an ogre forever by then.
From the dismay that flashed across his face and disappeared, Sir Peter hadn’t expected this.
If King Imbert had proposed the knave go alone, I would have thought, Good riddance and good luck for Lady Eleanor. But an expedition meant more than one.
The king continued. “How fortunate Kyrria is to have an accomplished ogre killer.”
“Sire, I hope you know I’m no warrior. I killed by guile.”
“Which we need. You’ll have plenty of warriors with you.”
“Majesty?”
“Yes, Eleanor?”
“Fighting ogres is perilous. Might Peter and I have a while to marry and be happy before he leaves?”
King Imbert frowned.
Lady Eleanor continued. “Can’t you delay this dangerous quest for”—she took a deep breath—“a year or even more?” She laughed shakily. “We’ll still have ogres then.”
“The point,” King Imbert said, “is to have fewer of them.”
Lady Eleanor reddened and didn’t speak again.
Sir Peter leaned farther across the table. “Sire? I don’t want to go only as the mastermind. I want to fight, too. Might I be trained first?” He looked innocent and eager. “I will apply myself.”
The king thought about it. “Your preference does you credit. I believe you have the makings of a champion. We’ll wait.”
How wily Sir Peter was. There would be no expedition. While seeming to bend to the king’s will, he would cause delay after delay.
“But,” King Imbert added, “we’ll begin your training at once.” He paused. “I know! With exercises in all the arts of war. My boy, you’ll watch and learn, and you’ll participate. The ogre will join in, too. She won’t be allowed weapons, however. My heart wouldn’t survive the sight.”
Why didn’t he address me directly?
Then he did. “You’ll wrestle. That is the ogre’s principal form of combat, is it not?”
“Not exactly, Sire, beg pardon.”
“No? I thought that’s what you creatures do.”
Creatures. “There are no rules, and it’s as much fisticuffs as wrestling. We scratch and bite, too.” I had to say the rest, although everyone probably knew. “Our scratches and bites are poisonous.”
“Mmm. Then you must wrestle without hurting anyone.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” But could I? Or would my rage take me over?
The servers returned with plates of sweets for each of us. Mine, again, were disguised meat. Soon after, the party ended. I was glad to return to the pigs. My unfortunate guards spent the night on patrol outside the sty.
The fourth of my remaining days had ended.
I had to plan. I had left it too long. Soon Frell would cease to tolerate me.
Only one place would take me in. I came to a decision. When hope was gone, I would concede defeat and leave. I’d already failed to help Lady Eleanor or to weaken Sir Peter. Further efforts would be in vain, too.
If the king gave his permission, as I thought he would to be rid of me, I’d return to the master, where I was trusted, where I’d be able to heal people. I’d take comfort in that and in Mother’s company and beloved Wormy’s visits, if he came, with or without his wife. I’d appear cheerful and would hide my despair.