Now, for your regularly scheduled writings:
She squealed in surprise. Elliot sat, leaning back against
the table, and watched her eat. She took several bites before deciding she
needed to start conversation.
“This is delicious. I do have one suggestion.” She looked up
for a moment, then back at her toast. “You don’t have to be so distaining. Never
mind.”
“What?”
Ivy gestured with her fork. “You aren’t interested in my
suggestion.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And you are sure you
can’t read minds.?”
Ivy sighed. “No, I can’t. But, I can sense emotions. It’s
part of my healer’s gift. And, I can read facial expressions really, really
well. It’s a natural talent, not part of my gifts at all.” Ivy focused on her
toast. “It came in really handy with my mother. She’s, well, she has been ill.
My whole life. Sometimes she is better than others, but you never can tell. I
needed all the forewarning I could get when around her.” She looked back up,
holding his gaze. “That’s how I knew what was going on with the boy in the Midway.
That’s how I win at bluffing games. Between reading tiny expressions and
sensing emotions, it’s about as good as being a mind reader.” His expression
was all curiosity and intrigue. There was no fear coming from him, either by
emotion or on his face. “You’re not afraid, not even a little bit.”
“Why should I be afraid?”
“Meredith says the only people who are afraid when they
learn of my gift are those with something to hide. But I’ve never seen someone
who was not even a tiny bit afraid.”
“I’m not afraid, but your talent is a bit off. It’s not that
I’m not interested in your suggestion. Many people have given me advice on how
to improve my cinnamon roll toast, but every suggestion I have tried has not been
an improvement.”
Ivy smiled. “Then you misunderstood my offer. I was only
going to suggest, from a healer’s perspective, ways to improve its ability to
fight nausea. You did say that is why you served this to me.” He smiled, and
performed a slight bow of apology. “I would suggest you could add some ginger
to the spice mixture. It shouldn’t change the flavor, but it’s medicinal
properties in regards to nausea are well documented.” She took another bite. “You
might also want to replace any water in the bread with a weak green tea. I
doubt that would change the flavor, either, but it could also help calm my stomach.”
She starred at the nearly completed meal, smiled, and set about finishing it. “It
is very delicious, but, speaking of green tea, I need to be getting on. My teas
are being judged today, and I wanted to see Samuel ride.”
Elliot stood, brushing his hands against his flour powdered
tunic. “Give me one moment to get changed. I’ll walk with you.” He walked into
his bedroom, but didn’t shut the door. Startled, she went to the wall between
the rooms and leaned her back against it, assuring herself she wouldn’t see
anything she shouldn’t see. Elliot laughed. “I’m just changing my over shirt
and cleaning up a bit, come on in.”
She turned, and stood in the doorway, leaning against the
jam as Samuel had done the night before. His simple tunic was in a heap on the
floor, along with most of the laundry for the boys. Elliot was in his shirtsleeves
and breeches, running a brush through his hair. Their eyes met in the
reflection in the looking glass. “So, all you girls are Scions, and, from your
description of observations last night, I can tell you are all nobility, of one
kind or another. I know that you said Scions aren’t as rare as we’ve been led
to believe. But that, that has got to be really, really rare.”
Ivy laughed. “Not as much as you would think. There are
very, very few Scions born to commoners these days. Way back, the Sisterhood realized
that the blessing of the Magdala was only given to females of her line.
Whenever a woman of the lineage was found, she would be married to a royal.
Back then, it was usually within days. It was said this was to assure that the
kingdoms and royal lines would have her blessing. Of course, it was also a strategically
sound move. With the women of the royal lines being Scions, well, it gives the
nobility advantages. As a whole, we try to keep our abilities from being
exploited, but when our families are involved… well, you understand.”
Elliot looked up from lacing up his doublet. “Yes, I
understand.” He ran his fingers through his hair one last time and called it
good. Ivy stood aside and let him out of the bedroom, and gifted Elliot with a
curtsey. He straightened his posture and offered his arm, which she accepted
with a flourish. They laughed as they exited the cabin, Ivy locking it behind
them.
“I feel like I’ve done all the talking this morning. Tell me
more about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How did you really meet Samuel and Devon? Princes are
usually taught by tutors, not in schools.”
Elliot laughed. “This is true. My father wanted my siblings
and I to have as normal of a childhood as we could. He said it would be good
for our social skills. So my older brother, my younger brother, and I all went
to a boarding school. Samuel and Devon were eventually my best friends, and we
were rooming together. They didn’t know I was a prince. No one there did. Then…
then my mother died shortly after giving birth to my youngest brother. My
father was devastated. More importantly, he refused to believe it was an
accident, and became very paranoid. He sent for us immediately; had us brought
back to the kingdom & the castle, to be sure that we were safe.”
No comments:
Post a Comment