Gently touching the locket that hung around her neck, she gave Wigg a coy smile. A slight blush spread across the lead wizard's face.
"But as I said before, all of this is academic until I have a sufficient quantity of the right ingredients," she added.
Wigg looked at Faegan. "Clearly, our first priority must be to secure from Shadowood the goods Abbey needs to construct her gazing flame."
"There is something else that must be done," Shailiha said adamantly. "I want to lead a party of Minions to Farpoint. We'll turn the city upside down, if we have to, to find my brother and bring him home-if he's still there." Sitting back in her chair, she angrily folded her arms over her breasts.
Wigg looked at Faegan. They had been expecting something like this from her, and they also knew that under no circumstances could they allow it. In the first place, should Tristan already be dead, it was vital that they not put Shailiha in harm's way. And second, it might well be exactly what Krassus wanted: the opportunity to capture the second of the Chosen Ones, and perhaps to take the palace, which would be far too vulnerable without sufficient Minion guards to protect it.
Taking a deep breath, Wigg placed his hands flat on the table and calmly explained to the princess why they could not go through with her plan. As he did, it was easy to see the anger and frustration build in her face once more.
For a long time she sat there seething. Looking down, she gently touched the gold medallion lying around her neck. Then she finally spoke.
"Very well," she said softly. "But I refuse to sit here and do nothing while my brother is out there somewhere, and in danger." She looked at Abbey, and the herbmistress felt Shailiha's hazel eyes go straight through her.
"Give me a list of things you need, and I'll go to Shadowood myself," the princess said. "I've already been there once-the gnomes know me. The journey is safe enough. Even you and Faegan can agree with that much, I should think!"
"And I will go with her," Celeste announced enthusiastically. "Together we will be stronger."
A slight smile came to Shailiha's lips.
"Absolutely not!" Wigg thundered. He glared at the two women as if they were completely mad. The telltale vein in his right temple had begun to throb again.
"I can use my gift to protect us, if need be," Celeste said quickly. "And if we employ Faegan's portal, we won't be gone long at all. What could be safer?" Smiling, she mischievously tugged the sleeve of her father's robe-a gesture she knew always softened his heart.
"You'll never even miss us, especially given the fact that you now have an old friend here to keep you occupied, so to speak," she added coyly. At that reference to Abbey, Faegan grinned widely.
Wigg blushed, and the vein in his temple throbbed even harder. "You still do not know how to use your gift effectively!" he argued.
"Really?" Celeste asked. "I already used it once to save your life, didn't I?"
Wigg looked beseechingly at Faegan. "And what say you to this madness?" he asked.
Faegan smiled. "Actually, I say 'yes.' Abbey and I will send along a list of our needs to Lionel the Little, the caretaker at my mansion, along with a letter of permission from me to give what we need to the ladies. You will be bringing back only dried herbs, not fresh ones. If time permits, we may send you back for fresh herbs later."
"Why do you want only dried herbs?"
"With rare exceptions, herbs must be dried before they can be of use in the craft," Faegan answered. "And unlike the process used by ordinary cooks, the drying of herbs for magic can be long and meticulous in its stages-and our needs are immediate. In addition, dried herbs are far easier to mix. I'm sure once you reach Shadowood, Lionel will be happy to tell you more. He can be amazingly talkative."
For the first time in days, Shailiha grinned.
"Very well," Wigg said reluctantly. "But this little errand of yours should take no more than a single day. If the two of you do not come home on the appointed hour, I am coming to Shadowood myself to get you. Understood?"
Sighing, the lead wizard sat back in his chair and looked at the two women who had just bested him.
CHAPTER
Fourteen
T he woman on Wulfgar's bed looked him up and down in his robe, her eyes filled with hate.
"I see you're already dressed for the occasion," she said nastily. "Just do whatever you want to me, and get it over with." Her voice was defiant.
Wulfgar looked at her. Despite the fact that her sea voyage had made her thin, she remained beautiful. Dark ringlets curled down over her breasts. Her taffeta gown-no doubt supplied by Janus-was stunning, and the yellow complemented her deep blue eyes. Given her situation, he might have expected her to cower before him. But she did not. Only anger showed. He immediately found himself respecting her for it, and wanting to know more about her.
"No harm will befall you here," he said quietly. "I'm a slave, just like you."
She let go a short, derisive laugh. "Don't lie to me, as well as abuse me." She looked briefly around the room and then shook her head. "No slave has quarters such as these."
Taking another step, Wulfgar pulled down the left shoulder of his robe. At first she recoiled, but then she saw the brand-the exact duplicate of her own. Her mouth dropped, and she began to relax a little.
"We may have to be slaves for them, but we don't have to be for one another," he added gently. He gestured to the silver table full of food. When he did so, her eyes greedily followed his.
"Would you like something to eat?" he asked. "You look very hungry."
She nodded, but it was abundantly clear that she wasn't ready to trust him.
Sensing that she might feel less threatened out on the spacious balcony, Wulfgar walked over to the breakfast cart and pushed it out into the sun. Sitting down in one of the upholstered chairs, he gazed out over the ever-restless ocean.
"Come and eat," he said casually. "I promise not to harm you."
She stood tentatively and walked to the balcony. After a cautious look at him, she stared straight down over the balcony wall. Then she raised her eyes and looked out to the west, toward Eutracia, and tears began to form. For some time she stood still, the only movement the gentle swaying of her ringlets in the salty sea breeze.
"Please sit down," Wulfgar said. He fixed a generous plate of food and handed it to her. Before she had even sat down, she snatched it from him and then bent over her prize protectively, the way a starving animal might, tearing into it as though she hadn't eaten for a lifetime. Smiling slightly, Wulfgar waited. As she continued to look warily at him in between bites of cheese, warm rolls, and fruit, Wulfgar poured her a cup of tea. She took it from him greedily. Still trying to gain her trust, he smiled again.
"What is your name?" he asked. "Where are you from?"
"I am Serena," she answered cautiously. Another bite of roll went quickly into her waiting mouth. "Of the House of Winslow."
"Winslow?" Wulfgar asked. She nodded.
"From Farpoint?"
Another nod.
Uncrossing his legs, Wulfgar leaned forward in his chair and looked intently into her face. "Is your father by chance Simon Winslow, the animal healer?"
Surprised, she stopped chewing for a moment. "Yes," she answered. Then her eyes narrowed. "How did you know?"
"I know Simon well," he said, smiling. "We do business. His practice is on the west side of town, is it not? On Baylor Street. I take horses there whenever I am unable to cure them myself. Your father is very good at what he does-the best in the city, as far as I am concerned. My parents are Jason and Selene, of the House of Merrick."
Finally starting to believe, she stopped chewing and put her plate down for a moment. Her eyes searched his face. "The Merrick Stables?" she whispered incredulously.
"Yes," he answered. "I am their son, Wulfgar."