Read Online Griffin's Daughter by Leslie Ann Moore - Free Book Online
Authors: Leslie Ann Moore
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she would think about that when and if she had to. Life couldn’t possibly be any worse among the elves than it was among humans.
By the time Claudia returned in the wee hours of the morning, Jelena slept deeply, dreaming of a man she called Father and of pale, blue fire.
Chapter 5
Her Intolerable Fate
"Jelena! Jelena, wake up, girl. You’ve gone an’ overslept!” Jelena groaned and scrubbed her sleep-heavy eyes with closed fists. Blinking like a hapless mole torn from its burrow, she reluctantly crawled from her warm nest of blankets and groped under the bed for the chamber pot. Claudia stood in the center of the small room, fully clothed, hands on hips.
“ Must ‘ave been quite a time y’had at the feast. Too much wine, I reckon,” she said, a little smile playing about her lips.
Jelena shook her head. “No,” she replied, and her stomach knotted up with the pain of remembering. “I left early, actually.” She set the chamber pot by the door so she’d remember to empty it later, then went to her chest. She moved aside Thessalina’s gown, lifted the lid, and began pulling out her work clothes. No time for a wash, she thought ruefully.
“ Why, whatever didya leave early for? You looked so pretty in that gown… Surely you wanted t’ show off a bit?” Claudia’s surprise seemed to come from a genuine belief that, because she saw beauty in her foster daughter, others would as well.
Jelena laughed sharply. “No matter how fancy my gown or how pretty you think I look, I’ll never be accepted here, Heartmother. I could hardly wait to get away from all of them. Especially him.” Her hands began to shake.
“ Who d’you mean?” Claudia probed.
“ No one. I…I…uhhhhh!” She fumbled with the strings of her apron, unable to tie them properly. The terrible emotions of last night crowded in close around her, pawing and scratching. She suddenly felt like bony hands had fastened around her throat, cutting off her breath. The barrier she had erected to keep the pain at bay abruptly gave way and she collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
Wordlessly, Claudia gathered her up and held her until the flood of tears subsided. Jelena clung to her, snug against that same soft bosom that had sheltered and comforted her as a child. Now, as then, she felt safe while enveloped in that great haven of motherly flesh, secure in the knowledge that there would be no more torment as long as she stayed within.
As much as she desired to, she couldn’t stay. Eventually, she always had to leave.
Claudia mopped at Jelena’s tear-streaked cheeks with the hem of her apron. Gently, she lifted her foster daughter to her feet and tied up the recalcitrant apron strings. Jelena felt comforted, knowing that Claudia needed no details, and that her foster mother understood the pain of her ordeal, an extension of the larger ordeal of her life as an outcast.
“ Now, you go on,” Claudia said. “Don’t fret about the dress. I’ll take it back to Fania m’self.”
“ My mother’s circlet…” Jelena started, but Claudia interrupted.
“ You can give the circlet back to yer uncle later, durin’ yer break time. Hurry, now, child. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
As Jelena hurried off to the kitchen, the image of Duke Sebastianus sprang, unbidden, into her mind and filled her with foreboding.
~~~
“ Jelena!” Cook bellowed. Jelena jumped, nicking her thumb with the small blade she had been using to slice carrots for the staff’s midday meal. She stuck the wounded digit into her mouth and turned to see Cook beckoning to her from across the room.
Gods, what have I done now, she thought.
Dropping the knife amidst the partially sectioned vegetables, thumb still firmly between her lips, she hurried over to receive her scolding.
“ Git yer thumb out of yer mouth, girl,” Cook growled.
Jelena obeyed immediately. “I cut myself, ma’am,” she explained, wrapping a corner of her apron hem around the oozing wound. She braced
By the time Claudia returned in the wee hours of the morning, Jelena slept deeply, dreaming of a man she called Father and of pale, blue fire.
Chapter 5
Her Intolerable Fate
"Jelena! Jelena, wake up, girl. You’ve gone an’ overslept!” Jelena groaned and scrubbed her sleep-heavy eyes with closed fists. Blinking like a hapless mole torn from its burrow, she reluctantly crawled from her warm nest of blankets and groped under the bed for the chamber pot. Claudia stood in the center of the small room, fully clothed, hands on hips.
“ Must ‘ave been quite a time y’had at the feast. Too much wine, I reckon,” she said, a little smile playing about her lips.
Jelena shook her head. “No,” she replied, and her stomach knotted up with the pain of remembering. “I left early, actually.” She set the chamber pot by the door so she’d remember to empty it later, then went to her chest. She moved aside Thessalina’s gown, lifted the lid, and began pulling out her work clothes. No time for a wash, she thought ruefully.
“ Why, whatever didya leave early for? You looked so pretty in that gown… Surely you wanted t’ show off a bit?” Claudia’s surprise seemed to come from a genuine belief that, because she saw beauty in her foster daughter, others would as well.
Jelena laughed sharply. “No matter how fancy my gown or how pretty you think I look, I’ll never be accepted here, Heartmother. I could hardly wait to get away from all of them. Especially him.” Her hands began to shake.
“ Who d’you mean?” Claudia probed.
“ No one. I…I…uhhhhh!” She fumbled with the strings of her apron, unable to tie them properly. The terrible emotions of last night crowded in close around her, pawing and scratching. She suddenly felt like bony hands had fastened around her throat, cutting off her breath. The barrier she had erected to keep the pain at bay abruptly gave way and she collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
Wordlessly, Claudia gathered her up and held her until the flood of tears subsided. Jelena clung to her, snug against that same soft bosom that had sheltered and comforted her as a child. Now, as then, she felt safe while enveloped in that great haven of motherly flesh, secure in the knowledge that there would be no more torment as long as she stayed within.
As much as she desired to, she couldn’t stay. Eventually, she always had to leave.
Claudia mopped at Jelena’s tear-streaked cheeks with the hem of her apron. Gently, she lifted her foster daughter to her feet and tied up the recalcitrant apron strings. Jelena felt comforted, knowing that Claudia needed no details, and that her foster mother understood the pain of her ordeal, an extension of the larger ordeal of her life as an outcast.
“ Now, you go on,” Claudia said. “Don’t fret about the dress. I’ll take it back to Fania m’self.”
“ My mother’s circlet…” Jelena started, but Claudia interrupted.
“ You can give the circlet back to yer uncle later, durin’ yer break time. Hurry, now, child. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
As Jelena hurried off to the kitchen, the image of Duke Sebastianus sprang, unbidden, into her mind and filled her with foreboding.
~~~
“ Jelena!” Cook bellowed. Jelena jumped, nicking her thumb with the small blade she had been using to slice carrots for the staff’s midday meal. She stuck the wounded digit into her mouth and turned to see Cook beckoning to her from across the room.
Gods, what have I done now, she thought.
Dropping the knife amidst the partially sectioned vegetables, thumb still firmly between her lips, she hurried over to receive her scolding.
“ Git yer thumb out of yer mouth, girl,” Cook growled.
Jelena obeyed immediately. “I cut myself, ma’am,” she explained, wrapping a corner of her apron hem around the oozing wound. She braced
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