Read Online 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 - Free Book Online
Authors: Ysabeau S. Wilce
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on it.”
“Hmm...” My eyelids weighed fifty pounds, and they kept dropping closed.
“Are you listening to me?” Val’s breath smelled like nutmeg. I opened my eyes. His face was so close to mine that I could see the faint shimmer of golden freckles on his skin, which was as smooth as rubber.
“Do you have bones?” I murmured.
He said snippily, “Of course I have bones. Every stone in this house is part of my—”
“No, I mean, inside your skin, do you have bones? Do you have a liver?”
“What would I need a liver for—disgusting organ—of course not! But as I was saying. I could help you further, if you help me further, Flora.”
“Ayah so?” I yawned again.
He continued, “You just don’t know how boring and lonely it is to be so diminished, me who once had the world begging for favors. And it’s not right, either, to close up such a House and let it molder away just because you are afraid—”
This woke me up some, indignantly. “Mamma is not afraid of anything.” In her youth, my mamma killed a jaguar with a shovel. She’s won the Warlord’s Hammer twice. She’s fought three duels, one bare-knuckled, and won them all. And, of course, she’s been married to Poppy for twenty-eight years, which alone takes an awful lot of sand.
“Pah. You can be as brave as a lion on the outside, Flora Segunda,” Val answered, “and fight bears with your fingernails and stare down monsters until they melt into little puddles of goo at your feet and still be a coward inside, in your heart, where it counts.”
I rolled over and turned my back to Val. He was lucky I didn’t believe in violence; otherwise, I would have punched his lights out for maligning Mamma so. The comfy feeling of chores done was receding into the more familiar feeling of gloom. Why did Valefor have to remind me of all this when I had been feeling so nice?
Val’s nutmeg breath tickled my ear. “Don’t sulk, Flora Segunda. It is not becoming to your lineage. I mean no disrespect to your dear lady mamma, but you have to face facts that this is not the way things should be.”
“That’s not my mamma’s fault,” I said into the cushion. “She does the best she can.”
Which isn't good enough,
my brain whispered.
“No doubt she does, but that’s not helping me, and it’s not helping you, either. If we got together, we could help each other, and help your dear mamma, and even help darling Hotspur, too.”
I rolled back over and stared up at Val’s looming head. The coldfire burned purple in his eyes, like sparks of light deep in a black well. His lips were a faint shade of lavender, like very pale blueberries. He cocked his head and grinned at me, very sweet.
“What do you mean, help Mamma and Poppy?” I asked.
“You know,” he said, “I remember the night the First Flora was born. It was strange weather. First came huge rain, then loud thunder, then an earthquake. An omen, don’t you think? The First Flora was a stubborn little thing, and she was not going to come out. Such screaming and shouting and rushing to and fro, and, ah, the blood—I was never so strong, I think, as I was that night. Your mamma almost died. And you know why she didn’t?”
I shook my head. Mamma never speaks of the First Flora.
Val looked smug. “Your father wasn’t there, or I suppose he would have tried to help her, being a great one with the knife, Hotspur, always hoping to find something or someone to carve up. Your mamma was spewing blood and her eyes were growing dark. A doctor could not have helped her. But for me, for Valefor, what is a truculent baby and a dying mother? I just reached right in with one slender hand and I took a hold of that bad little girl’s feet and she popped like a cork out of a bottle. Flora knew she’d met her match in me and there was no more insolence from her, I tell you.”
“You are so full of hoo,” I said. “Anyway, so what?”
“You ask your dear lady mamma,” Val said, wounded. “And
“Hmm...” My eyelids weighed fifty pounds, and they kept dropping closed.
“Are you listening to me?” Val’s breath smelled like nutmeg. I opened my eyes. His face was so close to mine that I could see the faint shimmer of golden freckles on his skin, which was as smooth as rubber.
“Do you have bones?” I murmured.
He said snippily, “Of course I have bones. Every stone in this house is part of my—”
“No, I mean, inside your skin, do you have bones? Do you have a liver?”
“What would I need a liver for—disgusting organ—of course not! But as I was saying. I could help you further, if you help me further, Flora.”
“Ayah so?” I yawned again.
He continued, “You just don’t know how boring and lonely it is to be so diminished, me who once had the world begging for favors. And it’s not right, either, to close up such a House and let it molder away just because you are afraid—”
This woke me up some, indignantly. “Mamma is not afraid of anything.” In her youth, my mamma killed a jaguar with a shovel. She’s won the Warlord’s Hammer twice. She’s fought three duels, one bare-knuckled, and won them all. And, of course, she’s been married to Poppy for twenty-eight years, which alone takes an awful lot of sand.
“Pah. You can be as brave as a lion on the outside, Flora Segunda,” Val answered, “and fight bears with your fingernails and stare down monsters until they melt into little puddles of goo at your feet and still be a coward inside, in your heart, where it counts.”
I rolled over and turned my back to Val. He was lucky I didn’t believe in violence; otherwise, I would have punched his lights out for maligning Mamma so. The comfy feeling of chores done was receding into the more familiar feeling of gloom. Why did Valefor have to remind me of all this when I had been feeling so nice?
Val’s nutmeg breath tickled my ear. “Don’t sulk, Flora Segunda. It is not becoming to your lineage. I mean no disrespect to your dear lady mamma, but you have to face facts that this is not the way things should be.”
“That’s not my mamma’s fault,” I said into the cushion. “She does the best she can.”
Which isn't good enough,
my brain whispered.
“No doubt she does, but that’s not helping me, and it’s not helping you, either. If we got together, we could help each other, and help your dear mamma, and even help darling Hotspur, too.”
I rolled back over and stared up at Val’s looming head. The coldfire burned purple in his eyes, like sparks of light deep in a black well. His lips were a faint shade of lavender, like very pale blueberries. He cocked his head and grinned at me, very sweet.
“What do you mean, help Mamma and Poppy?” I asked.
“You know,” he said, “I remember the night the First Flora was born. It was strange weather. First came huge rain, then loud thunder, then an earthquake. An omen, don’t you think? The First Flora was a stubborn little thing, and she was not going to come out. Such screaming and shouting and rushing to and fro, and, ah, the blood—I was never so strong, I think, as I was that night. Your mamma almost died. And you know why she didn’t?”
I shook my head. Mamma never speaks of the First Flora.
Val looked smug. “Your father wasn’t there, or I suppose he would have tried to help her, being a great one with the knife, Hotspur, always hoping to find something or someone to carve up. Your mamma was spewing blood and her eyes were growing dark. A doctor could not have helped her. But for me, for Valefor, what is a truculent baby and a dying mother? I just reached right in with one slender hand and I took a hold of that bad little girl’s feet and she popped like a cork out of a bottle. Flora knew she’d met her match in me and there was no more insolence from her, I tell you.”
“You are so full of hoo,” I said. “Anyway, so what?”
“You ask your dear lady mamma,” Val said, wounded. “And
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