Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [34]
“Oh, of course.” Smiling innocently, the lass resolved to lick the wall of her bedchamber as soon as she was alone.
In the dining room the white bear was already waiting, sitting by the side of the lass’s chair. She greeted him politely, and took her seat. Erasmus served her a meal of the usual magnificence: clear soup seasoned with strange herbs, vegetables roasted with honey, fish coated in hazelnuts and drenched in cherry preserves. Afterward there was cake that had been soaked in cream and drizzled with caramel.
“Please thank the salamanders,” she sighed when she was finished. She leaned back in her chair and laid her napkin aside. “They are fantastic cooks.”
“I shall tell them, my lady. They will be thrilled.”
By the fire, Rollo rolled over and let his tongue hang out of his mouth. He’d had a fine cut of meat and a bit of the cake, which the lass had dropped into his bowl. The bear had also had a piece of cake, but otherwise had made only idle conversation while the lass and Rollo ate. He’d asked her if she’d seen the paintings in the long gallery, and did she like them (not really, they were all quite gruesome battle scenes) and had she read any of the books in the library (yes, and they were delightful).
“So you do like it here?” The bear’s voice was wistful.
“Yes, of course!” She leaned sideways out of her chair and patted one of his huge paws. “And don’t worry, I’m going to figure out this enchantment.”
“No!” He reeled back and his claws and teeth flashed at her. The lass shrank back in her chair, and the isbjørn relaxed. Slightly. “Be careful,” he said, his voice rough. “It would be better if you just waited.”
“Waited for what?”
“For the year to end.”
“And then will you tell me where this palace came from?”
“Yes.” He nodded gravely.
“Who carved the mantel in the great hall?”
The bear blinked at her change in subject. “I don’t know.”
“So you didn’t build this palace? Who did?”
Silence. The bear slowly shook his head at her, as though her endless questions disappointed him.
Nevertheless she forged on. “Can you read the carving on the pillars?”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bear eyes are not good for reading,” he said, his reluctance clear in his voice. “It’s late. Good night.” He lumbered to his feet and out of the dining room.
“Wait, please! Would you like me to read them to you?” She followed him out of the dining room. Perhaps between the two of them they would be able to decipher every symbol. “Isbjørn, would you like that?”
But he just lumbered away, through a large door that locked behind him.
“Humans are too nosy,” Rollo said as he followed his mistress to their own rooms.
“Oh, hush,” the lass said, thinking hard. “If you knew what was carved on those pillars, you would be curious too.”
“I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know why the walls smell rotten. It’s only going to lead to something bad.”
“Rollo!” The lass was exasperated by his lack of curiosity. “Don’t you want to know why we’re here?”
“Yes, but I’m willing to wait until it’s time to know.”
They continued on to their rooms in silence. In silence, Rollo watched the lass take off her gown and put on a nightrobe. In silence, she brushed out her reddish gold hair and washed her face. The wolf sat beside her chair as she read a chapter of a book, a history of the first kings of the North.
Finally, when she was getting into bed, Rollo whined.
“What is it?” One foot on the floor, one foot in the soft bed, she looked at him. “Do you need to go out? The door isn’t locked.”
“No, I do not need to go out.” He sounded testy.
“What is it, then?”
“My curiosity is getting to me,” he said in a disgusted growl.
“About what?”
“About what it says on the pillars,” he snapped, as though it should have been obvious. “You don’t tempt a wolf by saying you’ve read something curious, and then not tell him!”
“Well, and who’s nosy now?” The