She had never seen Tom like that before. He said he had no use for books and why would he go anywhere with an old woman? She had left feeling very hurt. Now, lying awake, she tried to understand what she might have done to anger him and, worrying, she rose at last and went downstairs.
It was near dawn, beginning to grow light. She opened the curtains to let in the sunrise, then made herself a pot of cocoa. She sat before the window sipping it, wrapped in her heavy robe and wearing her thick slippers, looking out at the garden.
She saw Braden let out the little calico cat. She was pleased that he had kept her. The cat trotted happily up the garden past her house, heading for the woods.
She was pouring a second cup of cocoa when a young woman passed her porch at the same spot, coming down from the woods, and went directly to Braden’s. The same young woman she had seen around the garden the last few days. Maybe Braden had a new interest. Certainly she was a striking creature. Strange, Olive thought, she didn’t remember her hair being so arresting. Maybe she had just had it done—she must have spent a fortune on it. Maybe she was an actress, made up for some part. Really, when you got used to her hair, it was stunning. Olive watched her knock, watched Braden let her in, then went to shower and dress, turning her thoughts to the research.
Chapter 38
“Get on the horse! Get on the horse
“I won’t! I’m afraid!” Tom backed away from the roan mare warily.
He wasn’t afraid. He liked horses. But he stared at the queen stubbornly, defying her, determined she would not make him do anything. He hadn’t asked to come here. He wanted to be home. The sooner she found she couldn’t make him obey, the sooner…
Did he think she would take him back to the upperworld? Why should she? As he turned away from the horse the pain hit him: a fire shot through his body so hard he was jerked to his knees. He couldn’t move—the pain was so violent tears welled up involuntarily.
“Get on the horse.” Siddonie grabbed his arm, jerking him up. “Get on.”
“I won’t.”
The pain came, harder. He had never hated anyone, until this woman. He hated her. And was terrified of her.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Her rage was so great he thought she would kill him. He felt himself go dizzy then retchingly sick. His stomach heaved, and the sharp pain struck through him as if it ground his bones—he had never been so hurting and sick. He held himself straight, staring at her, filled with angry defiance until blackness tilted over him; he reeled, and fainted.
It was hours later that Efil, having watched the performance, was able to slip into the boy’s room, breaking the locking spells on the chamber door. Siddonie had ridden off with Vrech toward the northern mines or maybe for a frolic in some deserted herder’s cabin; he didn’t care which. She didn’t know he was in the palace, she thought he had ridden to Cressteane. He had doubled back, watching her ludicrous attempt to make the boy ride, an attempt she repeated every day.
The room was dim, the draperies pulled shut. He closed the door quickly and bound it with his own spells, then cast a light across the sleeping boy’s face, not expecting him to stir. But when the light hit him, the boy woke.
Efil smiled. “You are strong, Tom Hollingsworth. Siddonie’s spells are not as effective as she thinks. She means for you to sleep until she wants you in the stable yard again.”
The boy watched him warily.
“Do you know where you are, Tom? Do you remember where you came from?”
The boy’s eyes drooped as he fought the sleepiness stirred by such questions.
“No matter. You will know in time. I am Efil, king of Affandar.”
“What is Affandar?” Tom sat up, punching a pillow behind him. “Where have you taken me? What is this all about? Who is this Queen Siddonie?” His brown eyes were very like Wylles’. Efil was fascinated by the resemblance.
“Where is this place? Why did she bring me here? What does she want with me?”
“Vrech brought you here.”
“The gardener, yes. He’s a bastard.” The boy swung off the bed; Efil caught him as he fell. With the spell Siddonie had put on him, he was surprised the boy could get up at all.
“The queen has plans for you, Tom. But perhaps we can change the outcome. If you will trust me.”
The boy was silent, looking him over. At last he said, “I don’t know whether I can trust you. But right now, I don’t have any other choice.” He leaned back against the pillows pulling for a full breath—that was the henbane. Efil made a quick healing spell, and the boy’s breathing came easier and his color quickened. His eyes widened at the change within himself; he watched Efil with new interest.
“The queen’s spells and the herbs make you ill. I have countered them, but that is not always possible. Nor will my spell last. I will lay what spells I can to help you, if you will do as I tell you.”
