Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [50]
Tordis tapped her lips, then went over to a candelabrum on the dresser. The lass had not burned any of those particular candles because they were the herb-scented kind that made her sneeze. Her sister took a small pair of scissors from the pocket of her apron and cut off the top of one. She handed the stub to the lass along with a box of matches she took from another pocket.
“Take these and look at this monster that shares your bed,” Tordis advised her. “Our priest says that a candle made in a Christian home can banish any illusion. It’s the only way you may be sure that you are safe.”
“And if I’m not?” The lass felt an icy trickle down her spine.
“Do what you think best: lock yourself away at night, or escape the palace and come home.” Tordis pressed the little box and the short bit of candle into the lass’s hands. “Have it with you always. Promise me.”
“All right, I will,” the lass said, more to reassure Tordis than anything else. She took the proffered items and put them into the bodice of her gown while Tordis watched. The herbs in the candle tickled her nose, and she itched where it rested against her skin. She wiped her fingers surreptitiously on one of her shifts as she packed the last away.
“I’ll just go and see if Father is awake yet,” she said, edging around the bed. She regretted saying anything now.
Troubled, the lass went to spend the last few precious hours with her father. She could not concentrate on the novel they were hurrying to finish, and she found that the candle itched even worse as her skin warmed the wax. By the time she took leave of her family she was cross, tired, and breaking out in a rash.
“Let’s just get back to the palace so that I can have a bath,” she grumped to Rollo as they waited in the little copse of trees outside the city. Askel and Torst had driven her there, but she had made them leave at once, knowing that the isbjørn would be shy of her brothers.
“You came,” the isbjørn said, coming out of the trees as though summoned by her thoughts.
Despite her rash and her bad mood, her stomach fluttered when she saw the bear, and she couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her face. “Of course,” she said. “I gave my word!” And she scrambled onto his back without being invited, kicking his ribs with her heels as if he were a horse. “Let’s go.” She rubbed at her chest, willing it to stop itching.
The bear rumbled something that might have been a laugh or a complaint, and began to run. Rollo came after, tongue lolling in anticipation. They were going home.
Chapter 19
Back at the palace, things soon settled into their old routine. The lass would read and try to teach herself the troll language. She and the isbjørn would have their meals together and talk, and sometimes she would ride on his back as he raced Rollo across the snow plain. Whenever she thought the bear or one of the servants was off his or her guard, she would blurt out a question and try to surprise them into answering.
She didn’t make much progress, though. The servants and the isbjørn were all accustomed to her startling questions, and they remained silent on the topic of trolls or enchantment.
But not everything was back the way it used to be. She knew that she had upset Erasmus with her questions, but she had hoped that in time he would shake off his fears and wait on her again. Fiona was hardly a cheery companion, and the lass knew that Rollo missed Erasmus as well.
“Mrs. Grey?” The housekeeper was folding linens at one end of the long kitchen table. “Where is Erasmus? I’ve been back from my visit for over a month, and yet I haven’t seen him. Is he angry with me?”
The housekeeper’s sturdy, gray-skinned hands closed on the napkin she was folding, crumpling it into a tiny ball. Her stone eyes closed, and she breathed heavily through her nostrils. This made them flare, taking the gargoyle’s face from merely homely to downright hideous.
The lass drew back. “Mrs. Grey?” The salamanders stopped cavorting in the kitchen fire. Garth dropped the