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“Not dreaming,” I mutter.
“Oh, you won’t find dreamscapes here.” She nods knowingly. “The masters have ensured our secret fantasies are protected. It’s a bit sad if you ask me. I was so entertained by a dream or two wandering into the kitchen in the early days.”
“What’s your name?” I ask with a friendly smile.
“Marina,” she replies. “You must be Willow.”
“Yes, I’m Willow. It’s nice to meet you, Marina. That’s a pretty name.”
Her face sours. “Far prettier than that faerie cow queen. It’s her fault my baby Jubal has been sent away.”
“Jubal?”
She sighs and glances to her right. The neighboring painting is an empty turquoise ocean. “He was the finest pirate captain this world has ever seen.”
“You must miss him. Have you been here for a while?”
“Since the Awakening.” She proudly lifts her chin and then narrows her eyes. “Why?”
“I was just wondering if you knew why the House of Shadow picked me as their protégé?”
The more information I can learn, the better.
She cocks her head. Intelligence flashes in her eyes. “Master Fox wanted you, of course.”
“Oh? That’s not what I heard.” Something tells me she knows exactly what I’m doing, but she shuffles closer on her rock. I drop my chin into my hands and rest my elbows on the counter, the picture of riveted as I say, “You must hear a lot around here. I’ll bet you’re the most knowledgeable person in the castle.”
Her lips flatten.
So, I push some more. “Last night, for example, when we returned from Burn After Reading. I heard there was an argument in here.”
Cricket had grumbled about moody males when she handed me breakfast. The mermaid covers her mouth, eyes bulging.
“You know something, don’t you?”
She shakes her head.
“Come on, let me know. I’ll share gossip in return.”
“Like what?”
I waggle my brows. “I remembereverythingfrom my trip into Burn After Reading.”
She gasps, scandalized. “You’re not supposed to.”
“I know, but I do.”
She barely takes a second to consider. “Okay, but you didn’t hear this from me.”
“You sound like Peablossom.” I snort, amused.
“Oh, she’s a darling. I like her. Except when she flutters her lashes at our Number One.” Marina shuffles forward on her rock again, almost close enough to leap from the gilt frame. “So, about last night. Number One and Two were very cross at our poor little Mister Foxy-woxy.” She combs and combs, off in her own little world, recalling the event.
“Angry because . . .” I prompt.
“Because he ate that horrible Radiant, of course.” She flares her eyes at me, annoyed. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”
“Sorry. Please go on.”
