Flora Segunda: Being the Magickal Mishaps of a Girl of Spirit, Her Glass-Gazing Sidekick, Two Ominous Butlers (One Blue), a House with Eleven Thousand Rooms, and a Red Dog (Magic Carpet Books) by Ysabeau S. Wilce Page A
Authors: Ysabeau S. Wilce
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said the darkness, snippily.
I flopped down, turned my back to the sulky silence, and pulled the covers over my ears. At least I didn’t feel like crying anymore.
SEVEN
Sickness. Med-I-Cine. Waffles. Val Proposes.
V ALEFOR WAS GONE when I awoke, and I did not feel so well. My head ached, my bones ached, and generally I felt punk. Rangers suck up pain and sickness; they don’t let a little thing like weakness of the body get in the way of their obligations, so I dragged myself out of bed, did my morning chores, and got to Sanctuary just in time for first bell.
But the day was such a horrible loss; I should have stayed home. In my furry brain-haze, I left my Lit vocab list at home, so I got a zed on the hand-in, which meant that even though I got a plus-ten on the pop quiz, there went a fourth of my grade. In Scriptive, I knocked over the ink bottle and flooded out an entire stack of Catorcena invitations—twenty-five to do over. And after much finger-pricking, thread-snapping, and swearing in Dressmaking, I discovered that I had put the left sleeve of my Catorcena dress in upside down.
Every time I passed Archangel Bob in the hall, he would give me the eye, as though he had noticed I was not up to snuff and was wondering if he should send me to the Infirmary. With Mamma due home on Monday, I had too much to do to go to the Infirmary, and anyway, that was not where I wanted to spend my weekend, swallowing nasty medicine and eating nothing but oatmeal mush with spelt flakes. If you have to die in bed, it’s better that that bed be your own. Nini Mo didn’t say that, but I’ll bet she would have agreed. Of course, she didn’t die in bed, but it’s the principle.
It seemed like the day would never be over, but finally it was, and before Archangel Bob could make up his mind and grab me, I schlepped home. I kicked the dogs into the garden, hung the laundry out, and mucked the horses. The dogs came back in, and I shut them in the parlor, leaving the terrace door open so they could let themselves out. I blearily climbed the zillion stairs up to my bedroom, where I flopped onto the settee and fell into a snuffling sleep.
Time became a sickly blur of waking, stumbling to the potty, stumbling back to the settee, and sleep. Waking, stumbling down to feed the dogs, back to the settee, and sleep. Sometimes it was daylight when I woke, sometimes it was night. Always I was shivery cold, shaky, and miserable.
Finally, I woke up feeling a little better, not nearly as shivery, but still terribly cold. And hungry, too. I didn’t have the energy to get up, light a lamp, check on the dogs, find some chow. I didn’t have the energy to do anything at all. I lay on the settee, staring miserably up into the darkness.
Then I remembered Valefor.
“Valefor,” I croaked.
A thin wavery cloud coalesced at the end of the settee. I could barely make out Val’s narrow face. The cloud crept down over me, and I shivered at the coolness. I put my palms up and he put misty hands against mine, and he immediately brightened into a more solid shape. He bent over and I breathed a deep breath into him, feeling him grow concrete, sucking the ache from me. For a few seconds, my insides felt airy, as though my skin were filled with nothing but a tingling purple light.
When Valefor stood upright, he looked the best yet, not at all a starveling. In fact, if it weren’t for the purple eyes and his purple hair, he could have been a normal boy. He wasn’t exactly pretty, but he sparkled.
Valefor grinned at me and waved his arms about. “Thank you, Flora Segunda. I feel much better. You don’t taste so good right now, but still, it’s enough.”
I flopped back on the pillows, feeling like I had inhaled little sparks of fire. I suddenly felt a lot more perky, albeit a tad breathless. “You are welcome.”
With a gentle hiss, the radiators came on, even though I hadn’t shoveled any coal in over a week. In the fireplace, the fire flared up,
I flopped down, turned my back to the sulky silence, and pulled the covers over my ears. At least I didn’t feel like crying anymore.
SEVEN
Sickness. Med-I-Cine. Waffles. Val Proposes.
V ALEFOR WAS GONE when I awoke, and I did not feel so well. My head ached, my bones ached, and generally I felt punk. Rangers suck up pain and sickness; they don’t let a little thing like weakness of the body get in the way of their obligations, so I dragged myself out of bed, did my morning chores, and got to Sanctuary just in time for first bell.
But the day was such a horrible loss; I should have stayed home. In my furry brain-haze, I left my Lit vocab list at home, so I got a zed on the hand-in, which meant that even though I got a plus-ten on the pop quiz, there went a fourth of my grade. In Scriptive, I knocked over the ink bottle and flooded out an entire stack of Catorcena invitations—twenty-five to do over. And after much finger-pricking, thread-snapping, and swearing in Dressmaking, I discovered that I had put the left sleeve of my Catorcena dress in upside down.
Every time I passed Archangel Bob in the hall, he would give me the eye, as though he had noticed I was not up to snuff and was wondering if he should send me to the Infirmary. With Mamma due home on Monday, I had too much to do to go to the Infirmary, and anyway, that was not where I wanted to spend my weekend, swallowing nasty medicine and eating nothing but oatmeal mush with spelt flakes. If you have to die in bed, it’s better that that bed be your own. Nini Mo didn’t say that, but I’ll bet she would have agreed. Of course, she didn’t die in bed, but it’s the principle.
It seemed like the day would never be over, but finally it was, and before Archangel Bob could make up his mind and grab me, I schlepped home. I kicked the dogs into the garden, hung the laundry out, and mucked the horses. The dogs came back in, and I shut them in the parlor, leaving the terrace door open so they could let themselves out. I blearily climbed the zillion stairs up to my bedroom, where I flopped onto the settee and fell into a snuffling sleep.
Time became a sickly blur of waking, stumbling to the potty, stumbling back to the settee, and sleep. Waking, stumbling down to feed the dogs, back to the settee, and sleep. Sometimes it was daylight when I woke, sometimes it was night. Always I was shivery cold, shaky, and miserable.
Finally, I woke up feeling a little better, not nearly as shivery, but still terribly cold. And hungry, too. I didn’t have the energy to get up, light a lamp, check on the dogs, find some chow. I didn’t have the energy to do anything at all. I lay on the settee, staring miserably up into the darkness.
Then I remembered Valefor.
“Valefor,” I croaked.
A thin wavery cloud coalesced at the end of the settee. I could barely make out Val’s narrow face. The cloud crept down over me, and I shivered at the coolness. I put my palms up and he put misty hands against mine, and he immediately brightened into a more solid shape. He bent over and I breathed a deep breath into him, feeling him grow concrete, sucking the ache from me. For a few seconds, my insides felt airy, as though my skin were filled with nothing but a tingling purple light.
When Valefor stood upright, he looked the best yet, not at all a starveling. In fact, if it weren’t for the purple eyes and his purple hair, he could have been a normal boy. He wasn’t exactly pretty, but he sparkled.
Valefor grinned at me and waved his arms about. “Thank you, Flora Segunda. I feel much better. You don’t taste so good right now, but still, it’s enough.”
I flopped back on the pillows, feeling like I had inhaled little sparks of fire. I suddenly felt a lot more perky, albeit a tad breathless. “You are welcome.”
With a gentle hiss, the radiators came on, even though I hadn’t shoveled any coal in over a week. In the fireplace, the fire flared up,
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