Chantress Fury - Amy Butler Greenfield Page 0,53

I think it was the woman who was asking the questions. And she reminded my mother that if Chantress magic made something, then only Chantress magic could destroy it.” She sighed and opened her eyes. “And I’m afraid that really is all I remember. I wish it were more.”

“It’s a great deal,” I assured her, though I was sorry it wasn’t more too. If only Melisande hadn’t escaped! I could try describing her to Sybil, but there was no way she could identify the woman for certain without seeing her. And even then, could such a distant memory be trusted?

I looked at Sybil, who had gone back to her blankets. “The woman you saw, was she wearing a necklace like the one Melisande had today? With the two snakes?”

“If she was, I didn’t see it. She was all wrapped up.” She scribbled a note on a list, then paused. “But as I said, there’s something about those snakes that sounds familiar.” She shook her head. “How frustrating. I can’t quite place it.”

“Maybe it will come to you later. Will you find me if it does?”

“Of course—as soon as I can get away, that is. Or I’ll send Norrie. She’s planning to stay in the Great Hall with me tonight.” Sybil stretched and set down her list. “What a rock that woman is, Lucy! Honestly, she’s had the strength of ten today.”

I remembered how confident Norrie had looked when I’d seen her, calm and in charge. Of late I’d been reluctant to lean on her, fearing she was too old and frail, but it seemed I’d under­estimated her.

I’d clearly underestimated Sybil as well. Standing here in her plain clothes, busy about her work, she had a serenity and sureness I’d never seen in her before. And there was something more I saw.

“You look happy,” I said wonderingly.

Sybil looked abashed. “It sounds dreadful to say it, when people are suffering so much, but I am. I can’t tell you what a gift it is to be able to do something practical for once, something real. No one in the Great Hall cares about Court etiquette. They just want a bed and some food and a friendly word—and I can make that happen.” Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “In a way, it’s rather like my old life with Mama. I cajole supplies out of the steward; I sort out arguments; I calm the kitchen staff . . .”

It was good to see her so happy, but it was also disconcerting. “And the King? Does he know how much you’ve been doing?”

“Oh, Lucy, he’s so proud of me.” She gave me a glowing smile. “He’s sharing reports with me now. And we’ve talked—really talked—about what’s happening in the city and what we should do about it.”

“That’s good.” My voice sounded all wrong, but it was hard to know what to say.

“Oh, I know it won’t sound like much to you,” Sybil said. “You’re used to having Henry seek your advice. But for me, it’s new—and wonderful—to have him trust me like that.” She shook her head. “I’ve been trying so hard to be a proper queen; I didn’t want to humiliate him. But I’m starting to think I should have just been myself all along.”

A knock came at the door. Sybil gave me a quick hug. “I need to get that. But you’re welcome to stay, Lucy.”

“You’re kind to offer, but I should go.” If I stayed, she might want to talk about Nat again, and I couldn’t bear that.

The person at the door turned out to be Clemence, who blushed when she saw me. Sybil didn’t seem to notice. Warmly she drew Clemence in, and they started to discuss the ins and outs of supplies, and even to joke with each other about some of the trials of the day.

“Good night,” I said, and slipped out.

In the darkness, I let the cool rain fall onto my burning face.

What have I done?

I had been so certain I was doing the right thing in pushing Nat away. I’d taken Sybil’s unhappiness as a warning. And now Sybil’s situation was changing . . .

Was it too late to go back to Nat? To tell him that maybe I was wrong? To say that I loved him and wanted to find a way forward?

My feet made the decision for me. I found myself turning back to his rooms, first walking, then running, then racing. There was a light in his window. I bounded up the stairs and

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