Read Online Mist-Torn 01 - The Mist-Torn Witches by Barb Hendee - Free Book Online Page A

at Amelie, who had put down her bread and cheese and was watching this new figure in the doorway with caution.
    “What are you doing in here?” Inna demanded of Helga. “Get back to the kitchens.”
    “The maids are shorthanded today,” Helga muttered. “His lord majesty lieutenant sent me to help.”
    “Do not call him that!” Inna ordered. But then the dislike on her face shifted to disgust. “Well, I suppose it is only fitting. Gypsies serving gypsies.”
    Céline’s mouth nearly fell open, and she struggled to keep her expression still. What could they possibly have done to earn this young woman’s contempt?
    “How might we help you?” she asked.
    At the sound of Céline’s voice, Inna’s attention shifted back.
    Taking a breath, as if speaking to Céline was difficult, she said, “Prince Anton has invited a number of the better families to the great hall tonight for a banquet and entertainment. You and your sister are both expected to attend.” She walked in brusquely and dropped both gowns on the bed. “The Lady Karina was kind enough to send you decent attire for the evening.”
    Although the suggestion that they were indecent posed a further insult, Céline could not help asking, “Lady Karina?”
    But it was Helga who answered, “The prince’s auntie.” She nodded to herself again. “Yes, yes, his auntie.”
    “I don’t wear gowns,” Amelie said flatly, looking at Inna. “And there’s nothing wrong with our clothes.”
    However, as she spoke, Céline couldn’t help a flush of embarrassment. Her red velvet gown had once been her mother’s. Though the color had held fairly well through many washings, the seams were worn and the material was thin. Although as yet she’d not seen many other women of the castle, she’d seen no one here wearing sucha dress of such bright scarlet—or that fit quite so snugly.
    Inna first stared coldly at Amelie and then Céline, looking them up and down. “Well, if you wish to grace Prince Anton’s table dressed like a ruffian and a whore, that’s none of my business. I was told to deliver the gowns and bid you to be in the great hall at sunset.”
    At the word “whore,” Amelie made a fist and took a step forward, but Céline caught her arm. Inna did not appear to notice either movement as she turned and swept from the room.
    Slightly shaken, Céline asked, “Who in the world was that?”
    “That would be Inna,” Helga said again, still nodding to herself. Then she clucked her tongue against the roof off her mouth. “Gypsies my big toe. Ignorant, rude girl. The Móndyalítko could teach her a thing or two.”
    Céline turned toward the dressing table. “Who are the Móndyalítko?”
    Helga blinked. “You.”
    “Us?”
    The poor old thing really was quite mad.
    “Your mother’s name was Fawe, was it not?” Helga asked. “And your father took it when they married?” She hung both gowns in the wardrobe and began talking to herself again. “Two? Two from the same mother? Born three years apart? The number three, the magic number, two sides of the same coin, the mind and the body, the futureand the past. Yes, yes. It’s good they’ve come now.”
    Céline glanced Amelie, who shook her head once as if to discourage any further conversation.
    “All done,” Helga announced, looking around with some satisfaction. “You both eat up, and if you need Helga again, just pull that cord over there, and I’ll come straightaway. Don’t want any scoldings from his lord majesty lieutenant. Certainly not.”
    With that, she half walked, half hobbled from the room and closed the door behind herself, leaving Céline and Amelie alone, looking at each other.
    “Well…,” Amelie said, “the cheese is very good.”
    Céline’s stomach rumbled and so she reached for a piece of the white bread, but even as she did this, her eyes were on the gowns hanging in the wardrobe and her thoughts were on how Helga could possibly have known that their father had