twice the size of any other in the Oak, looked straight out at the House—but it was closed now, the curtains drawn.
On the room’s far side stood a dressing table topped by an oval mirror, and there sat Amaryllis, combing her hair. She did not look up as Bryony approached and performed the ritual curtsy. Only when she had finished did Amaryllis put down her comb and turn gracefully in her seat, drawing her dressing gown about her.
“Precisely what did you mean by your reckless behavior?” she inquired.
Bryony met the Queen’s blue eyes with her own black ones. “To kill a crow, Your Majesty.”
“And so you did,” replied Amaryllis. “But why were you out so late at night?”
Bryony opened her mouth and shut it again, her color deepening. How could she explain without admitting that she had been to the House? At last she said, “Your Majesty, I hoped to rid our people of a dangerous enemy. And…I wanted to test my new weapon.”
“Ah, yes.” Amaryllis held out her hand. “Show me this metal knife of yours.”
Bryony drew the dagger from its sheath and held it out to the Queen, who took it in her long, white hands. “It appears,” she said dryly, holding the sharp edge up to the light, “to be effective. How did you come by it?”
Bryony bit the inside of her lip, unsure of how to answer.
“I asked you a question,” said the Queen. Her tone was mild, but as she spoke her shining wings lifted and spread wide, a wordless reminder of her magical power.
“I stole it,” said Bryony. “From the House.”
“Where the humans live.”
“Yes.”
“Do you intend to make a habit of disobeying my commands and risking your life?”
Bryony straightened her shoulders. “Your Majesty, I needed a better weapon to fight crows with, and I could see no other way to get it. Yes, I risked my life then, and I risked it again tonight, and I will continue to risk my life as long asyou call me your Hunter, because that is my duty.”
The Queen was silent a moment. Finally she said, “Disobedient you may be, but you are also courageous. I know of no Hunter who has ever killed a crow. Very well, you have my pardon—this time. But beware, child. You are no match for a human, and I do not wish you to enter their House again. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good.” Amaryllis folded her wings and turned back to the mirror, laying the knife down on the dressing table. “How then shall I reward your bravery?”
Bryony drew herself up. “Your Majesty…I would like to change my name.”
“Is that all?” asked the Queen. “But that privilege has always been yours; surely you knew that. Tomorrow, when I confirm you publicly as my new Hunter, you may choose for yourself whichever common-name you please.”
“But you wouldn’t let me choose just any name,” said Bryony. “Not the one I really want.” She gestured to the blade upon the table.
The Queen sat back in her chair, regarding Bryony’s reflection with narrowed eyes. “Do I understand you rightly? You must know that none of our people has ever taken such a name.”
“I know.”
“You are determined to be different, aren’t you?” theQueen murmured, and then in brisker tones, “Very well. I shall announce your choice to the others tomorrow. But should you die in battle, that name will not pass to your egg-daughter.”
“That’s all right,” said Bryony. “I wouldn’t want it to. Your Majesty, may I withdraw? I am…tired.”
“You may.” The Queen picked up the dagger, turned, and held it hilt-first out to her. “Here is your weapon: I give it to you. And if anyone should ask how you came by it, you will tell them so—that you received it as a gift from me.”
Which would satisfy the other faeries’ curiosity about where the blade had come from, without letting them suspect that their Hunter had visited the House. Looking into Amaryllis’s level eyes, Bryony felt a surge of admiration: No wonder she was the
On the room’s far side stood a dressing table topped by an oval mirror, and there sat Amaryllis, combing her hair. She did not look up as Bryony approached and performed the ritual curtsy. Only when she had finished did Amaryllis put down her comb and turn gracefully in her seat, drawing her dressing gown about her.
“Precisely what did you mean by your reckless behavior?” she inquired.
Bryony met the Queen’s blue eyes with her own black ones. “To kill a crow, Your Majesty.”
“And so you did,” replied Amaryllis. “But why were you out so late at night?”
Bryony opened her mouth and shut it again, her color deepening. How could she explain without admitting that she had been to the House? At last she said, “Your Majesty, I hoped to rid our people of a dangerous enemy. And…I wanted to test my new weapon.”
“Ah, yes.” Amaryllis held out her hand. “Show me this metal knife of yours.”
Bryony drew the dagger from its sheath and held it out to the Queen, who took it in her long, white hands. “It appears,” she said dryly, holding the sharp edge up to the light, “to be effective. How did you come by it?”
Bryony bit the inside of her lip, unsure of how to answer.
“I asked you a question,” said the Queen. Her tone was mild, but as she spoke her shining wings lifted and spread wide, a wordless reminder of her magical power.
“I stole it,” said Bryony. “From the House.”
“Where the humans live.”
“Yes.”
“Do you intend to make a habit of disobeying my commands and risking your life?”
Bryony straightened her shoulders. “Your Majesty, I needed a better weapon to fight crows with, and I could see no other way to get it. Yes, I risked my life then, and I risked it again tonight, and I will continue to risk my life as long asyou call me your Hunter, because that is my duty.”
The Queen was silent a moment. Finally she said, “Disobedient you may be, but you are also courageous. I know of no Hunter who has ever killed a crow. Very well, you have my pardon—this time. But beware, child. You are no match for a human, and I do not wish you to enter their House again. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good.” Amaryllis folded her wings and turned back to the mirror, laying the knife down on the dressing table. “How then shall I reward your bravery?”
Bryony drew herself up. “Your Majesty…I would like to change my name.”
“Is that all?” asked the Queen. “But that privilege has always been yours; surely you knew that. Tomorrow, when I confirm you publicly as my new Hunter, you may choose for yourself whichever common-name you please.”
“But you wouldn’t let me choose just any name,” said Bryony. “Not the one I really want.” She gestured to the blade upon the table.
The Queen sat back in her chair, regarding Bryony’s reflection with narrowed eyes. “Do I understand you rightly? You must know that none of our people has ever taken such a name.”
“I know.”
“You are determined to be different, aren’t you?” theQueen murmured, and then in brisker tones, “Very well. I shall announce your choice to the others tomorrow. But should you die in battle, that name will not pass to your egg-daughter.”
“That’s all right,” said Bryony. “I wouldn’t want it to. Your Majesty, may I withdraw? I am…tired.”
“You may.” The Queen picked up the dagger, turned, and held it hilt-first out to her. “Here is your weapon: I give it to you. And if anyone should ask how you came by it, you will tell them so—that you received it as a gift from me.”
Which would satisfy the other faeries’ curiosity about where the blade had come from, without letting them suspect that their Hunter had visited the House. Looking into Amaryllis’s level eyes, Bryony felt a surge of admiration: No wonder she was the
Similar Books
