Read Online Hazel's Promise (The Fey Quartet Book 2) by Emily Larkin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily Larkin
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trees, a lopsided building with crooked shutters and threadbare thatching. Ivy glimpsed her youngest sister, Larkspur, sitting on the mossy doorstep, two large red-brown hounds at her feet.
“I see her,” Hazel said.
As if she’d heard Hazel, Larkspur turned her head and looked into the forest, directly at them.
She can’t see us yet or hear our voices, Ivy thought. But she senses us.
“Go ahead,” Ivy said. “Don’t wait for me.”
Hazel nodded, and picked up her skirts and ran ahead, the basket bouncing and swinging on her arm. “Larkspur!”
The hounds surged to their feet, barking.
Ivy hobbled as fast as she could, awkwardly navigated the gnarled roots of an oak, and came out into the sunlit clearing.
Larkspur ran to meet her.
Ivy hugged her sister tightly, while the hounds frisked around them like puppies.
Larkspur drew back. Tears were bright in her eyes.
Ivy smoothed Larkspur’s pale hair away from her face. “How are you, love?” She didn’t need to say the words aloud; Larkspur could hear them just as clearly unspoken as spoken. “The cottage hasn’t fallen down around your ears yet?”
Larkspur shook her head. Her face was thin, her cheeks almost hollow, her skin translucently pale except for the dark shadows beneath her eyes.
This gift is killing her . Ivy tried to smother the thought, but it was too late. Larkspur had heard it. Her lips twisted in silent agreement.
“Five more days and it will be undone,” Ivy said.
Larkspur didn’t argue. She’d stopped arguing a week ago, driven half-mad by everyone’s thoughts pushing into her head.
Ivy limped across to the doorstep and awkwardly sat, stretching out her stiff leg. Larkspur and Hazel sat, too. The hounds settled at their feet. This should have been a happy moment, sitting in the sunshine with her sisters, but it wasn’t; the silence between them was strained and anxious, tense with everything that lay unsaid between them.
“No one’s found you?” Ivy asked finally.
Larkspur shook her head.
I hate the thought of you sleeping here, alone.
“I’m not alone,” Larkspur said. “I have the dogs. It’s quite safe. You think I wouldn’t know if anyone were nearby? How can I not know?” There was a bitter note in her voice.
Ivy put an arm around her sister’s thin shoulders. Don’t hate yourself, Larkspur. The Faerie tricked you. It’s not your fault .
She glanced at Hazel. Hazel was silent and tight-lipped. Ivy didn’t need to have Larkspur’s gift to know that she was angry.
Larkspur bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Hazel said flatly. “It’s that bale-tongued creature’s, and I’ll kill her if I— ”
“Hazel,” Ivy said.
Hazel shut her mouth, but anger still blazed in her eyes. Larkspur would be able to hear it. No wonder she’s going mad .
“You think I’d rather be without my sister than my crutch?” Ivy shook Larkspur gently. “Silly. Of course I wouldn’t!”
“I wanted you to walk.” Larkspur’s voice broke on the last word. She began to cry.
Both hounds sat up, anxious.
Ivy tightened her arm around Larkspur’s shoulders. “I’m used to this leg of mine. I never thought I’d be able to walk properly.”
“You did think so for the last month,” Larkspur sobbed.
“And not for the past twenty-one years,” Ivy said firmly. “Stop crying, love. It’s upsetting the dogs.”
Larkspur drew in a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
The misery on her face tore at Ivy’s heart. “I love you,” she said. “And when my birthday comes I shall be glad to use my wish for you. It will give me more joy than anything else could.”
Larkspur’s lips twisted bitterly. She could read Ivy’s thoughts; she knew she wasn’t lying.
“Eat,” Hazel said abruptly. “I want to see you eat something.” Her voice was rough and her eyes suspiciously bright. She’s trying not to cry.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat!” Hazel shoved the
“I see her,” Hazel said.
As if she’d heard Hazel, Larkspur turned her head and looked into the forest, directly at them.
She can’t see us yet or hear our voices, Ivy thought. But she senses us.
“Go ahead,” Ivy said. “Don’t wait for me.”
Hazel nodded, and picked up her skirts and ran ahead, the basket bouncing and swinging on her arm. “Larkspur!”
The hounds surged to their feet, barking.
Ivy hobbled as fast as she could, awkwardly navigated the gnarled roots of an oak, and came out into the sunlit clearing.
Larkspur ran to meet her.
Ivy hugged her sister tightly, while the hounds frisked around them like puppies.
Larkspur drew back. Tears were bright in her eyes.
Ivy smoothed Larkspur’s pale hair away from her face. “How are you, love?” She didn’t need to say the words aloud; Larkspur could hear them just as clearly unspoken as spoken. “The cottage hasn’t fallen down around your ears yet?”
Larkspur shook her head. Her face was thin, her cheeks almost hollow, her skin translucently pale except for the dark shadows beneath her eyes.
This gift is killing her . Ivy tried to smother the thought, but it was too late. Larkspur had heard it. Her lips twisted in silent agreement.
“Five more days and it will be undone,” Ivy said.
Larkspur didn’t argue. She’d stopped arguing a week ago, driven half-mad by everyone’s thoughts pushing into her head.
Ivy limped across to the doorstep and awkwardly sat, stretching out her stiff leg. Larkspur and Hazel sat, too. The hounds settled at their feet. This should have been a happy moment, sitting in the sunshine with her sisters, but it wasn’t; the silence between them was strained and anxious, tense with everything that lay unsaid between them.
“No one’s found you?” Ivy asked finally.
Larkspur shook her head.
I hate the thought of you sleeping here, alone.
“I’m not alone,” Larkspur said. “I have the dogs. It’s quite safe. You think I wouldn’t know if anyone were nearby? How can I not know?” There was a bitter note in her voice.
Ivy put an arm around her sister’s thin shoulders. Don’t hate yourself, Larkspur. The Faerie tricked you. It’s not your fault .
She glanced at Hazel. Hazel was silent and tight-lipped. Ivy didn’t need to have Larkspur’s gift to know that she was angry.
Larkspur bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Hazel said flatly. “It’s that bale-tongued creature’s, and I’ll kill her if I— ”
“Hazel,” Ivy said.
Hazel shut her mouth, but anger still blazed in her eyes. Larkspur would be able to hear it. No wonder she’s going mad .
“You think I’d rather be without my sister than my crutch?” Ivy shook Larkspur gently. “Silly. Of course I wouldn’t!”
“I wanted you to walk.” Larkspur’s voice broke on the last word. She began to cry.
Both hounds sat up, anxious.
Ivy tightened her arm around Larkspur’s shoulders. “I’m used to this leg of mine. I never thought I’d be able to walk properly.”
“You did think so for the last month,” Larkspur sobbed.
“And not for the past twenty-one years,” Ivy said firmly. “Stop crying, love. It’s upsetting the dogs.”
Larkspur drew in a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
The misery on her face tore at Ivy’s heart. “I love you,” she said. “And when my birthday comes I shall be glad to use my wish for you. It will give me more joy than anything else could.”
Larkspur’s lips twisted bitterly. She could read Ivy’s thoughts; she knew she wasn’t lying.
“Eat,” Hazel said abruptly. “I want to see you eat something.” Her voice was rough and her eyes suspiciously bright. She’s trying not to cry.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat!” Hazel shoved the
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