pleasure,” she said, and sounded as if she meant it.
As Simon went out into the hall, the light seemed more golden, the air warmer and clearer than it had in months. Perhaps he was only imagining any improvement. Perhaps the novelty of teaching Joan would wear off, or she would be too strange for Ellie to really like. Perhaps this would all come to nothing. He’d not dared to hope once since he and Eleanor had come out to Englefield.
But now he couldn’t help it.
Chapter 8
“So,” said Joan, trying to figure out how to begin with this girl, now that Simon had gone. She glanced out the window, stalling for time, and the view gave her an idea. “Why don’t we head outside?”
“If you’d like, of course.”
“We can stay in if you want.”
Eleanor took a breath. “No,” she said. “It’s only that I haven’t done much exploring around here myself.”
There was something to this girl after all, beneath the nerves and the trauma. Joan smiled. “We can get lost together then. Got a spool of thread with you?”
“Oh, do you know that story?”
“Some version. Ariadan, right? The goddess?” It wasn’t exactly the right term, but she didn’t know what they called the Watchers here. “Angel?”
Eleanor led Joan out into the hall, talking softly as she went. “Not quite, not here. A princess. Ariadne. Her father, the king of Crete, kept a-a monster in a maze and fed youths to it.”
“Nice dad,” said Joan. “Your royalty doesn’t do that kind of thing, right?”
“No, not at all.” Eleanor gave a half-shocked laugh at the thought. “Nobody civilized would—”
She was starting to stare at Joan, and Joan, remembering Simon’s lecture, didn’t tell her that feeding youths to monsters would’ve been fairly standard behavior among the Traitor Lords. “What happened to the girl?” she asked instead.
“Well, Theseus, the son of Poseidon—sorry, that’s the Greek god of the ocean—came to kill the monster. Ariadne fell in love with him, and she gave him the ball of thread so that he could get back through the labyrinth afterward. What’s the story like where you’re from?”
“There’s a princess there too, but she’s a different woman. She gets cursed and falls asleep for a hundred years. A maze of thorns, or sometimes fire, grows up around her. Ariadan gives the hero a ball of magic thread. It rolls ahead of him and shows him what path to take.”
They stepped outside. Sunlight washed over Joan, and she turned her face up to it, closing her eyes and feeling the heat against her skin. A deep breath brought her the smell of earth and grass.
When she opened her eyes again, the lawn she’d seen from her bedroom window stretched off before her with a wide road looping around it. A narrower path, though it was still big enough for two or three people to walk side by side, led around the house, flanked by a row of tall trees. Eleanor had taken a few steps in that direction but then paused. She was politely looking elsewhere.
“Sorry,” said Joan. “Been a while since I saw the sun, you know? Where do these roads go?”
“The large one goes out to the village,” Eleanor said. “It turns off halfway, and there’s a path to the woods. This other one will take us to the gardens and the stables.” After they’d gone a few feet, she added, “I’d heard some of your story before too. The princess and the curse, I mean.”
“Oh, there are a million of ’em,” Joan said. “And the dratted prince never gets the job done himself either. Something always shows up and helps him. And then he gets the reward. Nice in stories.”
They turned a corner. A large brown building stretched out in back of the house, and Joan saw horses in a corral near them—they were huge goddamn things even from a distance, and she was glad she didn’t have to learn riding right off—while another path led away, down between two lines of trees. As they walked toward it, Eleanor was silent, and she
As Simon went out into the hall, the light seemed more golden, the air warmer and clearer than it had in months. Perhaps he was only imagining any improvement. Perhaps the novelty of teaching Joan would wear off, or she would be too strange for Ellie to really like. Perhaps this would all come to nothing. He’d not dared to hope once since he and Eleanor had come out to Englefield.
But now he couldn’t help it.
Chapter 8
“So,” said Joan, trying to figure out how to begin with this girl, now that Simon had gone. She glanced out the window, stalling for time, and the view gave her an idea. “Why don’t we head outside?”
“If you’d like, of course.”
“We can stay in if you want.”
Eleanor took a breath. “No,” she said. “It’s only that I haven’t done much exploring around here myself.”
There was something to this girl after all, beneath the nerves and the trauma. Joan smiled. “We can get lost together then. Got a spool of thread with you?”
“Oh, do you know that story?”
“Some version. Ariadan, right? The goddess?” It wasn’t exactly the right term, but she didn’t know what they called the Watchers here. “Angel?”
Eleanor led Joan out into the hall, talking softly as she went. “Not quite, not here. A princess. Ariadne. Her father, the king of Crete, kept a-a monster in a maze and fed youths to it.”
“Nice dad,” said Joan. “Your royalty doesn’t do that kind of thing, right?”
“No, not at all.” Eleanor gave a half-shocked laugh at the thought. “Nobody civilized would—”
She was starting to stare at Joan, and Joan, remembering Simon’s lecture, didn’t tell her that feeding youths to monsters would’ve been fairly standard behavior among the Traitor Lords. “What happened to the girl?” she asked instead.
“Well, Theseus, the son of Poseidon—sorry, that’s the Greek god of the ocean—came to kill the monster. Ariadne fell in love with him, and she gave him the ball of thread so that he could get back through the labyrinth afterward. What’s the story like where you’re from?”
“There’s a princess there too, but she’s a different woman. She gets cursed and falls asleep for a hundred years. A maze of thorns, or sometimes fire, grows up around her. Ariadan gives the hero a ball of magic thread. It rolls ahead of him and shows him what path to take.”
They stepped outside. Sunlight washed over Joan, and she turned her face up to it, closing her eyes and feeling the heat against her skin. A deep breath brought her the smell of earth and grass.
When she opened her eyes again, the lawn she’d seen from her bedroom window stretched off before her with a wide road looping around it. A narrower path, though it was still big enough for two or three people to walk side by side, led around the house, flanked by a row of tall trees. Eleanor had taken a few steps in that direction but then paused. She was politely looking elsewhere.
“Sorry,” said Joan. “Been a while since I saw the sun, you know? Where do these roads go?”
“The large one goes out to the village,” Eleanor said. “It turns off halfway, and there’s a path to the woods. This other one will take us to the gardens and the stables.” After they’d gone a few feet, she added, “I’d heard some of your story before too. The princess and the curse, I mean.”
“Oh, there are a million of ’em,” Joan said. “And the dratted prince never gets the job done himself either. Something always shows up and helps him. And then he gets the reward. Nice in stories.”
They turned a corner. A large brown building stretched out in back of the house, and Joan saw horses in a corral near them—they were huge goddamn things even from a distance, and she was glad she didn’t have to learn riding right off—while another path led away, down between two lines of trees. As they walked toward it, Eleanor was silent, and she
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