Page 12 of A Spell of Heart & Havoc

“That may be so,” Lady Wistrallo said. “But I ran into Ilin at the mercery yesterday, and she was quite gracious. We had a lovely conversation.”

“Well, that’s wonderful, dear!” Lord Wistrallo said.

Dove muttered, “She was just being polite.”

“Nevertheless. I expect we’ll soon receive our invitation, and we need to make sure you have a proper gown for the occasion.”

“Then it’s convenient, I suppose, that you think this one would do. I expect it will still exist in a few days’ time,” Dove drawled, saying exactly what I’d been thinking.

Her mother frowned. “Oh, you know what I mean, Dovey. It won’t be new then.”

Sighing, Dove said, “Can we talk about something else? Please. This is giving me a headache.”

The family chattered on about mundane things as they finished their soup and moved on to some kind of charred squid dish, then a creamy pasta studded with bright violet flowers, before finally wrapping up with dangerously towering skinny cakes that looked both impossible to eat and amusingly phallic. Maybe their gnome chef used magic to amp up her creations. I kept my ears attuned to the family’s conversation—my job here was to gather intel, after all—but it became increasingly hard to focus as the evening dragged on and I became hungrier.

This was the longest dinner I’d ever experienced. And I didn’t even get to eat! Did they seriously do this every night? Goddess help me, this assignment kept getting worse and worse.

Finally, after what felt like ages, they were wrapping up. Dove murmured good night to her parents and pushed back from the table. As she began to bustle out of the room without a backward glance, her mother glanced at me.

“Oh, Miss Kirim, be sure to get your supper from Choia after my daughter is safe in her room for the night. And thank you for that list of exterior repairs needed. Frandin is hiring a carpenter and locksmith to take care of them immediately.” Gracing me with a smile, she added, “Sleep well. We are just delighted that you’ve joined our little household.”

Like fuck you are. Dirty, uncouth, and stupid, aren’t I?

We’ll see who’s stupid when I’ve taken everything of value in your home.

But I simply nodded, murmuring my thanks, and moved to follow my charge out. Lady Wistrallo called, “And Dovey, dear! Don’t you dare forget to give her access to that blasted door of yours before you retire!”

Dove’s groan exploded from the hallway. With a quick “good evening” to the lady and lord of the house, I hurried after her, catching up to her short strides in no time.

“Quite a meal that was,” I said as we made the long journey back to her quarters. “Though the tentacles were a bit much, to be honest. Hope that isn’t waiting for me in the kitchens.”

“It’s a rare delicacy shipped in once a month from the Southern Isles,” she said, nose high in the air. “So no, it won’t be.”

“Ah, what a shame.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve asked Petra to make sure you receive our finest gruel for supper. Whatever the pigs don’t finish from the day’s trough.” Dove threw an evil grin over her shoulder, then flounced her hair. Gold tinkled musically. Closer now, I could see that there were shiny, decorative little clasps scattered among the thick curls. A handful of those would feed the average Kurrielan family for months.

The fire that had been slowly stoking in my chest all day flared higher. She didn’t even realize what she had. Raised like a pampered doll in this massive manor, eating expensive seafood and goddess knew what else, wearing a fortune’s worth in clothes just to grumpily prattle about nothing for two hours—I was suddenly nauseous at the thought of spending days, possibly weeks, trailing around after her, forced to watch her oblivious decadence and act the part of a silent, obedient employee.

Even if I grudgingly had to admit that her hair did look very pretty.

“How gracious of you,” I grit out. “Princess.”

“I’m not a princess. There’s only one princess of Kurriel, as you very well know. I am a lady.”

“Of course, of course. Lady Dove.” I stepped closer to her as we climbed the stairs to the upper level, just to see her flinch away. “What kind of a name is Dove anyway?”

She stopped, one stair above me. We were just about at the same height now, and her pert nose scrunched up as she glared at me yet again. Goddess, I hated her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dove isn’t a name. It’s a bird. A little gray, boring bird. Did your parents just see you as a newborn and think ‘yes, she looks like those dull creatures who visit our gardens, let’s just go with that’?” I couldn’t help myself—the more I talked, the redder her cheeks flushed in anger.

“How dare you speak to me like this. And my full name,” she said in her iciest tone, “is Lady Dovenesdrea Iniri Wistrallo III. Perhaps I’ll have you call me that instead.”

“Perhaps I’ll cut my tongue out before that ever happens.”

“Oh, and what a dream that would be!”