Her
eyes
filled
with
unexpected tears and she dropped the
barrettes on the counter before grabbing
her furs and running for the door. She
buried her face in the soft pelts as she
sobbed.
Nash went after her. He caught her just
outside the door. Maralee saw him draw
her small body into a tight embrace before
the door closed. The merchant looked
after the pair of them, puzzled.
“Her father passed recently,” Maralee
explained, closing her eyes to stop her
own tears of sympathy from falling. She
wished she could close her ears as easily.
Then she could block the sound of
Carsha’s heart-wrenching sobs.
“I thought that guy was her father,” the
trader remarked.
“Uncle,” Maralee whispered. She
turned to look at the merchant. Her eyes
fell on the barrettes on the counter. “I’ll
take those,” she said, reaching into the
pocket of her cloak for her money pouch.
She handed over the proper coins and
tucked the barrettes into the pouch for
safekeeping. “Could you hold onto our
purchases for a little while?” she asked.
“We’re expected at breakfast.”
“Should have known you were all
together,” he said, shaking his head at her.
“You’re a crafty one. I’ll have everything
wrapped up when you return.”
Maralee left the store and found Nash
sitting on the front stairs cradling his
sniffling niece against his shoulder. He
stroked her hair and seemed oblivious to
the villagers who were standing across the
street staring at them.
“Are you all right, Carsha?” Maralee
asked, squatting down behind Nash to
look at her.
She looked up and Maralee was
surprised to see rage in her eyes rather
than the grief she expected. “I hate you!”
she spat. “I don’t care if you do kill me for
saying it.”
Maralee’s heart gave an unpleasant
thud. What would make her think such a
thing? “I like you, Carsha,” she said
around the lump in her throat. “You know
I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Maralee lifted her hand to touch her,
but the little girl lashed out at her like a
striking snake.
“Don’t touch me!”
Maralee backed away. “I don’t
understand,” she said more to herself, than
either of her two companions.
“Maralee doesn’t understand,” Nash
murmured to his niece. “You just
promised me you’d help me make her
understand. Remember?”
“I just hate her,” she said, arms
tightening around Nash. “I hate her.”
Nash stood up, still holding Carsha
securely against him. He looked at
Maralee apologetically. “I’m sorry she’s
lashing out at you like this. It should be me
she hates.”
This statement confused Maralee even
more. “Why would she hate you? She
obviously adores you.”
Nash lowered his eyes. “I was the one
who failed to protect her father. He didn’t
have to die.”
Maralee watched him struggle with
unidentified emotions, his eyes downcast.
She just stared, not sure how to respond.
After a long moment, he sighed and
looked up. “Are we going to breakfast
now?”
Relief suffused her and she let out the
breath she hadn’t realized she was
holding. “Of course,” she said as
cheerfully as she could muster.
“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t
make me look like an idiot in front of any
more of the villagers.”
“I didn’t.”
His hard stare was enough to silence
her.
CHAPTER 12
Phyllis, the innkeeper’s wife, took one
look at the sad, little girl seated at her
table and declared exuberantly, “Oh my!
Gordon didn’t tell me I was to prepare
breakfast for a pixie princess.”
Carsha glanced up at her, startled.
The woman set plates of food in front
of each of them and continued with a
beaming smile on her face. “Pixie
princesses love cookies. Am I right?”
Carsha looked around for this so-
called pixie princess, but it was obvious
the woman was speaking of her.
“Cookies?”
“Ah yes! Cookies,” Phyllis said, her
blue eyes twinkling, “but I cannot allow
such a pretty princess to have this sad
face. Her loyal attendants are likewise
saddened.” She glanced at Nash and
Maralee who were concentrating hard on
avoiding
each
other’s
eyes.
They
appeared almost as happy as a pair of wet
cats. “Therefore she must giggle and the
sound of it shall bring a smile to every
face. It’s pixie princess magic, don’t yuh
know?”
The innkeeper’s wife poked Carsha in
the ribs and the girl squirmed. A poke to
her other side drew a giggle from her.
Nash and Maralee grinned.
Phyllis pointed at the pair of adults.
“See, the pixie princess’s magic never
fails.”
“I’m not a pixie princess,” Carsha
said, giggling at this silly woman’s antics.
“Why else would your giggles make
them smile?” she asked her, and Carsha
looked at her two adult companions
thoughtfully. “I know a pixie princess
when I see one,” she claimed and bustled
out of the room with a happy smile.
“She’s silly,” Carsha declared, still
smiling.
The girl picked up a sausage patty
from her plate, sniffed it and took a bite.
“It’s good,” she said as if surprised.
Nash was watching Maralee smother
her griddlecakes with butter and syrup. He
copied her actions and helped Carsha,
who was sitting next to him, do the same.
Maralee realized they were looking to her
for cultural guidance, but she tried not to
make it obvious. She imagined she had
made Nash feel like an idiot in front of the
shopkeeper. She wished she had consulted
him before taking control of the situation.
She’d never had to check her behavior
before, because she had never had anyone
to worry about except herself.
She took her fork and used its side to
cut her griddlecakes into bite-sized
pieces. The other two copied her motions
precisely. She speared several pieces
with her fork and brought them to her
mouth. The other two did the same and
surprised Maralee by sputtering. They
forced themselves to swallow without
chewing before simultaneously reaching
for their glasses of milk. They gulped their
beverages as if competing in a milk-
guzzling contest. Maralee watched at
them, bemused.
“It’s sweet,” Nash said after he’d
drained his entire glass of milk and set the
empty glass aside.
“Of course it’s sweet. It has
blackberry syrup all over it,” she
reminded him, pointing at the little pitcher
of syrup in the center of the table.
He dabbed his finger in some of the
syrup on his plate and touched it to his
tongue. He winced. “You should have
warned us.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you
had an aversion to sugar.”
Carsha dipped a finger in her syrup
and tasted it. She repeated the action
several times and then declared, “It’s
good once you’re used to it.”
Maralee smiled at her. “See, you’re
just being contrary, Nash.”
“I’ll stick with these meat patties,” he
said, biting into his sausage. “Spicy,” he
commented, “but at least I can stomach it.”
The innkeeper’s wife reappeared and
took note of the two empty glasses of milk.
“A bit thirsty, are we?” she said, smiling,
and collected their glasses to refill them in
the kitchen.
Carsha was well into her griddlecakes
now, licking her fork delectably after each
bite. Nash was poking the yellow squishy
things on his plate, his brow furrowed
with concentration.
“Those are scrambled eggs,” Maralee
informed him.
Nash looked at her, his face
brightening. “I like eggs,” he said.
“Freshly laid robin’s eggs straight out of
the shell.”
Maralee grimaced.
“We have to wait until spring, though,”
he added.
“These are chicken eggs,” Maralee
said. “And they have been cooked.”
“I have noticed you cook everything,”
Nash commented, managing to scoop some
eggs into his mouth awkwardly with his
fork. He smiled. “Not bad.”
Carsha was trying her eggs now. She
beamed. “Yummy!”
The innkeeper’s wife returned with
fresh glasses of milk. “I see you like the
eggs,” she commented as she watched
Carsha stuff them into her mouth happily.
Carsha nodded, her mouth too full to
speak.
“Everything is delicious,” Maralee
complimented the chef.
“Thank you, miss,” she said, turning
towards the kitchen. “I’ve got cookies for
the pixie princess in the oven.”
Carsha swallowed, and then giggled.
Maralee and Nash grinned.
“Her magic is still working,” the
woman declared and pushed through the
swinging door.
“She’s silly,” Carsha said.
Maralee wished she knew how to
bring a smile to the face of a child so
easily. She thought about the dragonfly
barrettes in her money pouch, but decided
to give them to the girl later. Maybe
Carsha would let her brush her pretty,
dark gray hair. It always looked untidy,
but Maralee imagined it would be very
beautiful if brushed and held back from
her sweet face with barrettes. Carsha
scowled at her and Maralee realized she
was staring. She turned her attention back
to her breakfast.
“What are these box-shaped things?”
Nash asked, having discovered more
variety on his plate.
Maralee glanced at his plate. “Those
are potatoes.”
“These are potatoes? The ones at the
mercantile
were
much
larger,”
he
murmured and tried one. Maralee watched
him for his reaction. “Strange texture,” he
assessed, chewing carefully, “a little
sweet.” He returned to his eggs.
Maralee smiled. It just occurred to her
how nice it was to share a meal with
someone. Nash seemed to be enjoying
himself, too. At least he had dropped the
guarded look he had been sporting since
they’d entered the village.
“Lark and Lord will be so jealous,”
Carsha declared. “I’ll tell them all about
this yummy food, and the store with all of
those amazing things, and the buildings
with two levels.”
“They’ll probably want to tag along
next time,” Nash said, smiling to himself.
“That will be nice,” Maralee said. “I
haven’t met them, have I?”
“They didn’t want to come and play
with us yesterday,” Carsha said. “They
said I was a traitor for even talking to
you.”
“They’re at that age,” Nash said,
eyeing Maralee uneasily.
“That’s okay. I’ll work hard to win
them over.”
The innkeeper’s wife appeared once
more, this time carrying a bright red
handkerchief bundled around something.
“Cookies for the pixie princess. You take
these home with you,” she told the child,
handing her the bundle.
“Oh,
it’s
red.
Pretty!”
Carsha
exclaimed.
The woman chuckled. “You can keep
that old handkerchief,” she said.
“Thank you!” Carsha said, jumping
around the middle.
Phyllis patted the girl’s head. “I do
miss my wee daughters,” she said,
touching the corner of her apron to each
teary eye. “I only see the grandchildren for
a few days each summer. You’ll come see
me again, won’t you, pixie princess?”
Carsha craned her neck to look up at
the woman who had so quickly wormed
her way into the child’s heart. “Oh yes.
And I’ll bring my brothers, too. Okay?”
“Pixie princes, too? What a joy!”
“I wouldn’t call them that to their
faces,” Carsha warned seriously. “They
wouldn’t like it.”
“Oh, they would be young men then,”
the woman said, taking her advice to
heart.
“I don’t mind though,” Carsha quickly
amended.
“Don’t forget your magic,” the woman
told her, and Carsha giggled. The girl
glanced at Maralee and Nash to make sure
they were smiling. The effects of her
magic did not disappoint.
“I need to go upstairs and collect my
things,” Maralee said, rising from the
table.
“Can I come, too?” Carsha asked.
“Sure,” Maralee agreed, hoping this
meant the girl no longer hated her.
“I’ll head to the mercantile to pick up
our supplies,” Nash said, also rising to his
feet. “I’ll meet you two outside.”
Maralee worked her way out of the
tiny dining room and was surprised when
Carsha thrust her hand into hers. Maralee
smiled down at her and led her to the
stairs. The little girl seemed nervous as
they ascended to the second floor.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve never been up this high,” she
claimed, glancing back down the steep
and narrow stairs.
“You don’t climb trees?”
Carsha shook her head.
“Probably a good idea. I fell out of a
tree once. Broke my arm.”
Carsha’s golden eyes were wide as
she looked up at her. “Did it hurt?”
“You bet it did, but I won’t let you fall
down the stairs. Okay?”
Carsha nodded and continued to climb
beside her. They reached the room and
Maralee began to empty the dresser
drawers and pack her belongings in her
knapsack. Carsha was intrigued by the
bed, which she pressed down on with both
hands.
“Is this where you sleep?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Carsha glanced around the room and
found an oval mirror above the dresser.
She stood on tiptoe to peer at herself.
“What’s this? It’s shiny like water, but it’s
standing up.” She touched it with curious
fingers. “It’s hard.”
Maralee smiled. “That’s a mirror. You
look at yourself in it.”
“Why would you want to do that?” she
asked, turning to glance at Maralee.
Maralee chuckled. “I have no idea.”
Carsha turned her attention back to the
mirror. She instantly changed her mind
about how interesting it was to look at
one’s self. She made a face and giggled,
before making another face. Maralee
smiled and glanced up from her packing.
For a fraction of a second, she saw the
image of a small gray wolf in the mirror,
but just as quickly Carsha’s wide-eyed
gaze met hers. Maralee closed her eyes
and shook her head to clear it. Wolves
everywhere lately. In the forest, in her
dreams, in her bed, and now she imagined
seeing them in the mirror.
“I think I need a holiday,” she
murmured to herself and continued with
her packing.
“What
is that?”
Carsha
asked
excitedly, pointing out the window now.
Maralee crossed the room and peered
out the window at the horse-drawn sleigh
making its way down the road. The sound
of sleigh bells was faint through the panes