Read Online Dragon Fae (The World of Fae) by Terry Spear - Free Book Online
Authors: Terry Spear
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pale, and not from the flour she’d used to make pastries this morning, though the woman could look a fright sometimes when she finished preparing a meal.
Ena wondered how she could get so much of their meal all over herself as she was cooking it. Maybe Ena would be the same way if she cooked. What did she know? She stayed far away from the kitchen, not wanting to see what a mess it had become in the process. The cleaning maids stayed away from there, too. That was Lila’s domain and no one ever entered it.
When she noticed that Lila was not heading to the kitchen to deliver the meals to the dining hall, Ena realized she wanted to know about Brett. “Yes, yes, he needs to eat also.”
“Prisoner food?” Lila asked, her eyes wide.
What in the world did prisoners eat? Ena had never had one as a houseguest before and never had visited a dungeon where prisoners were being fed. Why would Lila need to make a special meal for him?
Ena glanced at Brett. His blue eyes were studying her. He didn’t look cowed like he ought to be, she thought. But she figured if she told Lila to feed him prisoner’s food, Lila would then ask her what that would be. Ena had no clue, but she didn’t want the prisoner to know this. Lila might feed him some of that burned slop she’d started out with this morning. Then again, Ena didn’t want to hurt Lila’s feelings and tell her to feed him whatever she had thrown out earlier today.
“Whatever I’m eating, he can eat,” Ena said.
Lila’s eyes widened.
What was Ena going to be eating? Maybe she shouldn’t have been too hasty in offering some of her food. Was it her favorite—calf’s liver? She lifted her nose and took in a deep breath. Salmon . She didn’t mind sharing that with the prisoner. Calf’s liver? That was another story.
“Then we lock him in the dungeon?” Ryker, her butler asked. He raised his black brows, punctuating his question.
She raised her black brows back at him.
She could see the hint of a smile in his expression—evil, yes—but it was there just the same.
The dungeon was where she hoarded her gold and other treasures. She’d claimed three caves, but it was too expensive hiring guards to watch them, so she had relented and filled each cell in the dungeon with different kinds of treasure. If nothing else, she loved to organize her bounty. She could sit for hours counting her gold coins.
So how was the human to stay in one of her treasure cells? Sleeping on top of a pile of gold or silver, or gems? She couldn’t remember, but she thought the cots in each of the cells were buried beneath the precious metals.
Too much trouble. “He can stay in one of the guestrooms in back of the servants’ quarters.”
She thought there was a room, not much bigger than a closet, but by human standards—most likely similar to the size of the boy’s bedroom back home. Of course, he wouldn’t have a television, or computer, no Internet, no cell phone—well, he might still have one of those, but he wouldn’t be able to use it—not much of anything to keep him out of trouble, she realized.
He could be their gardener. They’d needed one forever. She’d asked her lady’s maid to pluck weeds from the rose garden, but she’d complained about pricking her fingers on the thorny roses. Ena had suggested she remove the thorns, but that idea hadn’t gone over big. Then Muriel didn’t like getting her hands dirty. She didn’t like sweating—in the summer months when the gardening needed to really be tended to. She didn’t like digging—to remove the stubborn weeds. The list went on and on.
The cleaning maids had killed the plants they were supposed to be caring for at their last places of employment, so Ena had not asked them to lift a hand in her gardens. The butler told her absolutely no to gardening. It was not a butler’s job. He spoke most eloquently and vehemently about what was.
And Cook, well, except for snipping herbs from the herb garden for the
Ena wondered how she could get so much of their meal all over herself as she was cooking it. Maybe Ena would be the same way if she cooked. What did she know? She stayed far away from the kitchen, not wanting to see what a mess it had become in the process. The cleaning maids stayed away from there, too. That was Lila’s domain and no one ever entered it.
When she noticed that Lila was not heading to the kitchen to deliver the meals to the dining hall, Ena realized she wanted to know about Brett. “Yes, yes, he needs to eat also.”
“Prisoner food?” Lila asked, her eyes wide.
What in the world did prisoners eat? Ena had never had one as a houseguest before and never had visited a dungeon where prisoners were being fed. Why would Lila need to make a special meal for him?
Ena glanced at Brett. His blue eyes were studying her. He didn’t look cowed like he ought to be, she thought. But she figured if she told Lila to feed him prisoner’s food, Lila would then ask her what that would be. Ena had no clue, but she didn’t want the prisoner to know this. Lila might feed him some of that burned slop she’d started out with this morning. Then again, Ena didn’t want to hurt Lila’s feelings and tell her to feed him whatever she had thrown out earlier today.
“Whatever I’m eating, he can eat,” Ena said.
Lila’s eyes widened.
What was Ena going to be eating? Maybe she shouldn’t have been too hasty in offering some of her food. Was it her favorite—calf’s liver? She lifted her nose and took in a deep breath. Salmon . She didn’t mind sharing that with the prisoner. Calf’s liver? That was another story.
“Then we lock him in the dungeon?” Ryker, her butler asked. He raised his black brows, punctuating his question.
She raised her black brows back at him.
She could see the hint of a smile in his expression—evil, yes—but it was there just the same.
The dungeon was where she hoarded her gold and other treasures. She’d claimed three caves, but it was too expensive hiring guards to watch them, so she had relented and filled each cell in the dungeon with different kinds of treasure. If nothing else, she loved to organize her bounty. She could sit for hours counting her gold coins.
So how was the human to stay in one of her treasure cells? Sleeping on top of a pile of gold or silver, or gems? She couldn’t remember, but she thought the cots in each of the cells were buried beneath the precious metals.
Too much trouble. “He can stay in one of the guestrooms in back of the servants’ quarters.”
She thought there was a room, not much bigger than a closet, but by human standards—most likely similar to the size of the boy’s bedroom back home. Of course, he wouldn’t have a television, or computer, no Internet, no cell phone—well, he might still have one of those, but he wouldn’t be able to use it—not much of anything to keep him out of trouble, she realized.
He could be their gardener. They’d needed one forever. She’d asked her lady’s maid to pluck weeds from the rose garden, but she’d complained about pricking her fingers on the thorny roses. Ena had suggested she remove the thorns, but that idea hadn’t gone over big. Then Muriel didn’t like getting her hands dirty. She didn’t like sweating—in the summer months when the gardening needed to really be tended to. She didn’t like digging—to remove the stubborn weeds. The list went on and on.
The cleaning maids had killed the plants they were supposed to be caring for at their last places of employment, so Ena had not asked them to lift a hand in her gardens. The butler told her absolutely no to gardening. It was not a butler’s job. He spoke most eloquently and vehemently about what was.
And Cook, well, except for snipping herbs from the herb garden for the
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