Wicked As You Wish (A Hundred Names for Magic #1) - Rin Chupeco Page 0,78
on her fingers and lace generous across her bosom.
From across the hall, the harp’s music broke off without warning.
The count rose, moving to assist the old woman to her seat, but her hands flicked out to shoo him away. “Bother that, Hiram,” she said, her voice Avalonian-accented and soft. “I’m not an invalid.”
“The Dame of Tintagel,” the count told the others. “My mother.”
“The Hag of Tintagel, Hiram,” the old woman corrected with a soft, tinkling laugh, displaying even white teeth. “Is that not what they call me? But the boy does not come to the table. He lurks outside at his peril. The sky is dark tonight, and the clouds shall weep soon enough.”
“I will ask the knights to find him, if you like.”
“I like for nothing,” the old lady said, with a small sigh. “But I have a soft spot for William. His boy will not come willingly, and he shall be wet and thankless when he does. It is the Nottingham way, to spurn help when help is due.”
“I presume you know who our other guests are, Mother.”
“Have I ever been wrong?” She glided effortlessly around the table. “You have grown since I last saw you,” she said as she reached West’s chair. She patted his arm fondly. “Of all who sit at this table, it is your eyes that see clearest, though not even you know the truth of what you carelessly speak. Still as ugly as ever, dear one, but do not fear. All the better for the ugly groom to deserve the pretty bride. But beware of pretty maids hiding in dark village corners. They are not for you.”
She moved next to Loki. “A tangled web,” she murmured, shaking her head, “tangled and tangled and tangled. You shall break a scepter over your knee and throw away a crown. You will deliver a throne into Neverland’s mercy, and your fathers will be proud. A light shines about you, Loki. There is more to you than outlander-born. And yet you must not let the stump, stump you far too often, lest the girl is lost.”
Ignoring the perplexed look on their face, she turned to Zoe, whose mouth had been open in indignation on West’s behalf. “Close your mouth, young doe. The swamps shall fill it soon enough.” She chuckled. “Oh, how they shall laugh, my dear; how they shall laugh. To take the shire over the gest, the chaff over the grain; how they shall laugh! But you shall laugh last and laugh long. The dead shall rise for you, little girl. The dead shall rise.”
Tala had never seen Zoe turn so pale until that moment, but the Dame only tittered again, like she’d told a joke, and then turned to Kensington. He squirmed under her thoughtful gaze.
“Learn to swim, boy,” was all she said, before turning her attentions to Alex.
Spindly fingers reached out to touch his face. Alex shrank back. “I just want a closer look, Your Highness. Ah. Yes. The firebird chooses true. The armies of sky and earth and sea shall answer your call. Such a heavy burden for one so young. A dozen times cursed, and also a dozen times blessed. Your dance with the queen shall be long, my dear, but your turn with her shall come soon enough. There will be a choice, that much I can see. A choice made in the castle of brick and ice. One leads to death. The other leads to something much worse.”
She shuddered briefly, snatching her hands away like she had just been burned.
“A traitor, a traitor, a traitor. Traitors three. The wolves know, oh how the wolves know, of the traitor, the traitor, and the traitor in your midst. The brave little tailor may lose a leg for you, and the fenking’s daughter may take up arms for you, and the mermaid shall lose her voice. Traitors; one for glory and one for dominion and one for love, and only then will you know of the traitor in your midst.”
“Are you accusing one of us?” Zoe sputtered.
“You think I lie, child?”
“I don’t believe in seers,” Zoe said bravely, though she had not stopped shivering since the woman’s pronouncement on her.
“Hawks have little taste for deer, as four legs shall outrun two. When you finally seek the comfort you want, it shall be with graves and not with feathers. Run as fast as you can, little doe; you will not run far enough.”
“Mother,” the count began, his expression pained, but the Dame waved