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 Page A
Authors: Ysabeau S. Wilce
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she will tell you I am saying nothing but the truth. I am the power of this House, Flora. The point is you all
need
me.”
“Mamma is the power of this House. You are just the Butler.”
“You decline without me. You dwindle. I told Buck, two wasn’t enough, but did she listen to me? Of course not. See—she’s already had to replace one!”
There were fewer Fyrdraacas in Califa than there had once been, but that didn’t mean that we were in decline, did it? Fyrdraacas tend to die young, in all sorts of glamorous ways. It’s not so good for the bloodline if people keep getting killed in duels (Great-aunt Arabelle), breaking their necks in cross-country horse races (Great-uncle Anacreon), drowned trying to swim across the Bay’s Gate (Great-aunt Anacreona), or bit by a rattlesnake during a bar bet (Cousin Hippolyte), and not leaving any heirs behind. Pretty soon the family tree is pretty thin.
I answered, “Says you! There’s still me and Idden. We aren’t chopped mackerel.”
“You are thin-blooded and miserable, that’s what you are.
“We aren’t.” But my protest was halfhearted. I
was
a replacement, wasn’t I?
“Suit yourself, then,” he said, shrugging. “Whether you believe it or not does not affect whether it is the truth. It’s not fair. I am oppressed, and nothing more than a slave to Buck’s Will.”
“You are just the Butler, a denizen—you
should
be subject to Mamma’s Will. It was what you were made for, to serve her, as the Head of the Fyrdraaca family,” I said meanly, for he had completely spoiled my happy mood.
Valefor glared at me. “Fyrdraacas come and go, but I alone of this House stand forever. Buck should understand that and treat me with the respect that I deserve. And anyway, it’s not just me—we are
all
slaves to Buck’s Will. Hotspur, Idden, you—”
“I have my own Will,” I protested.
“Then why are you studying for the Benica Barracks entry exam?” Val asked slyly.
“I’m not.” I wasn’t, but I was supposed to be. I half hoped that if I failed the exam I wouldn’t get in, although I’m sure that I would get in no matter if I passed or not. The Fyrdraaca estate may be worthless, but the Fyrdraaca name still has value.
“Why are you acting a slavey in your own home? Why do you have to get stuck dealing with Hotspur? Stuck with all the chores—the housework, the horses, the laundry?”
Each of Valefor’s questions burned, for they were questions I had asked myself so many times but had never dared voice aloud. Underneath my gloom, there was the pinprick of anger. Why did Mamma have to be so unfair? Why couldn’t she think of the rest of us for once?
He continued, “While I—whose Will it is to do those tasks—am locked away like a criminal.”
“Anyway, we are both stuck, Valefor,” I said, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“Isn’t there?” Val asked. He had perched on the settee arm, above my feet, and now he leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
“What do you mean?”
Valefor grinned at me hopefully. “I could be restored.”
EIGHT
Discussion. The Eschatanomicon.
S UDDENLY A TINY LICK of excitement was kindling against my gloominess. Could Valefor be restored? What if every day were like today, with working radiators and clean sheets? With delicious waffles and hole-free socks? The Elevator would always work, and there would be not a single dog hair anywhere. Could Valefor manage Poppy? I could live at Sanctuary and my nights would be blissfully scream-free. We would have our House back, in all its glory, and we’d be a normal family again, just like everyone else.
Then I remembered. “Mamma would never allow it.”
“Why would Mamma have to know? I’d be very silent, just a little secret between you and me. I’d help you out, and Mamma would think you so clever, and no one but us would need to know.” Val leaned in again, and again I saw the stars in his eyes. “Just think. Warm
need
me.”
“Mamma is the power of this House. You are just the Butler.”
“You decline without me. You dwindle. I told Buck, two wasn’t enough, but did she listen to me? Of course not. See—she’s already had to replace one!”
There were fewer Fyrdraacas in Califa than there had once been, but that didn’t mean that we were in decline, did it? Fyrdraacas tend to die young, in all sorts of glamorous ways. It’s not so good for the bloodline if people keep getting killed in duels (Great-aunt Arabelle), breaking their necks in cross-country horse races (Great-uncle Anacreon), drowned trying to swim across the Bay’s Gate (Great-aunt Anacreona), or bit by a rattlesnake during a bar bet (Cousin Hippolyte), and not leaving any heirs behind. Pretty soon the family tree is pretty thin.
I answered, “Says you! There’s still me and Idden. We aren’t chopped mackerel.”
“You are thin-blooded and miserable, that’s what you are.
“We aren’t.” But my protest was halfhearted. I
was
a replacement, wasn’t I?
“Suit yourself, then,” he said, shrugging. “Whether you believe it or not does not affect whether it is the truth. It’s not fair. I am oppressed, and nothing more than a slave to Buck’s Will.”
“You are just the Butler, a denizen—you
should
be subject to Mamma’s Will. It was what you were made for, to serve her, as the Head of the Fyrdraaca family,” I said meanly, for he had completely spoiled my happy mood.
Valefor glared at me. “Fyrdraacas come and go, but I alone of this House stand forever. Buck should understand that and treat me with the respect that I deserve. And anyway, it’s not just me—we are
all
slaves to Buck’s Will. Hotspur, Idden, you—”
“I have my own Will,” I protested.
“Then why are you studying for the Benica Barracks entry exam?” Val asked slyly.
“I’m not.” I wasn’t, but I was supposed to be. I half hoped that if I failed the exam I wouldn’t get in, although I’m sure that I would get in no matter if I passed or not. The Fyrdraaca estate may be worthless, but the Fyrdraaca name still has value.
“Why are you acting a slavey in your own home? Why do you have to get stuck dealing with Hotspur? Stuck with all the chores—the housework, the horses, the laundry?”
Each of Valefor’s questions burned, for they were questions I had asked myself so many times but had never dared voice aloud. Underneath my gloom, there was the pinprick of anger. Why did Mamma have to be so unfair? Why couldn’t she think of the rest of us for once?
He continued, “While I—whose Will it is to do those tasks—am locked away like a criminal.”
“Anyway, we are both stuck, Valefor,” I said, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“Isn’t there?” Val asked. He had perched on the settee arm, above my feet, and now he leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
“What do you mean?”
Valefor grinned at me hopefully. “I could be restored.”
EIGHT
Discussion. The Eschatanomicon.
S UDDENLY A TINY LICK of excitement was kindling against my gloominess. Could Valefor be restored? What if every day were like today, with working radiators and clean sheets? With delicious waffles and hole-free socks? The Elevator would always work, and there would be not a single dog hair anywhere. Could Valefor manage Poppy? I could live at Sanctuary and my nights would be blissfully scream-free. We would have our House back, in all its glory, and we’d be a normal family again, just like everyone else.
Then I remembered. “Mamma would never allow it.”
“Why would Mamma have to know? I’d be very silent, just a little secret between you and me. I’d help you out, and Mamma would think you so clever, and no one but us would need to know.” Val leaned in again, and again I saw the stars in his eyes. “Just think. Warm
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