The older nurses laughed at this — the youngster who had spoken of the Primrose lordling as though he lived in the same world she did was a farm girl still damp behind the ears with the dews of Ivy Round, one who followed the romance fables available through Zinnia Manor's mirror-stream with the same deeply absorbed belief that other fairy-folk reserved for news about the latest debate in the Parliament of Blooms or announcements about interfield trade statistics or distant border skirmishes between the giants and the smaller but more ambitious mountain trolls. Still, all but the most hardened of her coworkers found something naively charming in the young nurse's insistence that even her large and pretty wings were no barrier to an alliance with a scion of one of the Flower houses.
"It's not as if I couldn't do something about that," she protested. "People are having their wings off all the time."
"Even more than once, some of them," another nurse pointed out. "Like Mr. Lungwort. His just keep growing back no matter how many times he has 'em pruned." The others laughed. The sanitarium's administrator was not particularly popular and his ambitions were the subject of frequent discussion.
"If you're lonely, what you really want is a mortal," said one of the older nurses. "Smelly and hairy and savage. Ooh, that'd do me right. I've not had any of that for centuries."
"Getting one of them's no more likely than getting a fellow out of one of the Six Houses — not these days," said another.
" 'Sides, if that Primrose lad even looked at you too long, I imagine there would be more than a few ladies from the High Houses who'd be happy to set a Stroke Boy on you," the older nurse said cheerfully. "That happened to a girl I know who was in service. They don't like to share with our sort."
"Look," the farm lass said, blushing. "I know it's not going to happen, but a girl can dream, can't she?"
At least they could all agree on that. And the Silent Primrose Maiden's brother, most of them also agreed, was someone worth daydreaming about.
"Erephine?" he said, as though he might be interrupting her at something. She sat in her chair, still and warmthless as a statue. "Good Mabon Eve, dear one. It's me, Caradenus. I came to see you."
He closed the door behind him and checked to make sure it latched. There had seemed to be an unusual number of nurses in the corridor as he had made his way to his sister's room, all doing their best not to watch him too obviously but not entirely succeeding. It was difficult to believe they all had business in the same part of the manor at the same time. Lately he found himself swimming in strange political currents; he wondered if the staff might be spying on him. But who would go to such an extreme? The Excisors? They must have larger matters to worry about than the duty that brought him to Zinnia Manor. His own father? Surely the two of them hadn't moved so far apart, for all their differences. No, he could make no sense of it. Perhaps it was only his imagination. Still, the staff had all seemed so… interested.
"I've come to see you for a reason." He reached out and took his sister's cold hand. "I'm involved in some things that might make it hard for me to come see you for a while." He moved a little closer, lowered his voice, for all the world as though he were sharing a secret with someone who could understand it. "Things are… difficult all over just now, especially in the City. There's talk of another Flower War." He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very weary. "I fear it may be true. What a horror that would be, after all these years of peace."
He let go of her hand and sat back, examining her face. She continued looking at nothing. He made himself smile, but it was difficult. "Do you remember when we were both young and we went to go see our cousins at Pimpernel Rise in Alder Head, that big house in the hills? You were afraid because someone told you there were manticores in that wood, and I said I would protect you, that I wasn't afraid of anything." He shook his head. "I was only a boy, with my first sword and a few charms I'd learned. I promised you I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Ever. I promised."
For a long moment he could not speak.
"The old goblin," he said at last. "It's just come back to me. Do you remember him? We met him on the Bonfire Road. He was riding to market with some rabbit skins and he let you pet his unicorn." He summoned back the smile. "You were so brave! It had bells around its neck and it shied at the smell of me, or perhaps at one of the charms I was wearing. The bells all jingled. But it lowered its head so you could stroke it. How big your eyes were!"
He took her hand again and they sat in silence for a long time.
"I will come back to see you as soon as I can," he said as he stood up. "I do not forget. I will not forget." He bent and kissed a cheek like clay. "And if the day ever comes, I will see you avenged for this. I have sworn it by the Well." He hesitated, then bent and kissed her again, his eyes blinking. "I love you, my Erephine, my sister." She still had not moved except for the small expansions and contractions of her chest. "Farewell."
"He is fine to look at, isn't he? But he seemed sad when he went out," the young nurse from the farm country said. "Didn't you think so?"
"You can't tell with those Flower-folk," one of the others said. "Stiff as statues, they are."
"But maybe he's unhappy about his sister…"
Her coworker shook her head and went on measuring out the bite-me-not elixir into small cups: it was medicine time in the Active wing. "They don't waste their strength on feelings, those Flower lords, and especially not about the girl children of the families. They do what's right so that everyone can see it, of course. Very big on making the right show."
"Besides," said one of the older women, "She's been in here for years, so they must all be used to it by now. No, you're just being a romantic, my girl. It's easy to do with these rich, fair-faced chaps — they can seem however they want."
"Do you really think so?"
"Mark my words, girl, and don't let yourself be fooled. They rule the world, that lot. All of Faerie bends the knee to them. What would one of them have to be sad about?"
20
AMONG THE CREEPERS
"What the hell is that?" Theo squinted at the jar Lady Aemilia was holding, which glowed a pale yellowish green like something out of a low-budget movie.
"Don't be such a big girl's blouse," said Applecore, kicking her legs on the edge of the dispensary table.
"And what's that bizarre expression supposed to mean?"
"It shouldn't hurt at all," said the fairy noblewoman, but Theo felt she could have put a bit more feeling into the assurance.
"You said the last thing would only smart a bit and then it felt like someone stuck a dental drill in my spinal column. So 'shouldn't hurt at all' means what? No worse than a severe beating?"
"Certainly no worse than that," Lady Aemilia agreed. "Just lie on your stomach. Aren't we glad we didn't put our shirt back on?"
"Oh, yeah, we're thrilled." Theo clambered back onto the medical table and its white linen cover. He couldn't escape the feeling that this sparsely decorated room was actually a veterinary surgery, but he supposed he should be grateful that at least it was clean. Still, this was not the bargain he would have preferred to make — painful experimentation in return for sanctuary. "You still haven't told me what's in that jar."
"A leech, of course. We need some of your blood."
Theo was halfway off the table before Lady Aemilia grabbed his arm, but he got no farther. She was surprisingly strong for someone who looked like a willowy hundred and ten pounds at the most. "Don't make such a scene, young fellow." She turned to Applecore. "Does he really know so little about science?"