Enter the Frey

By S. M. Savoy

Jen Frey is a modern woman plunked without warning into a medieval world. Gifted with magic, but cursed to live in a time when magic is reviled and women of little worth, Jen finds herself at odds with the church. 
Her modern ideals threaten the very existence of the priesthood, and they'll stop at nothing to eradicate the threat

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ace Lyon Books
• Release date: Jul 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781947122277

Book preview

Mondred

Gallant stamped his silver hooves with impatience. Jen's impatience. A sailboat had dropped sails and waited off the coast of Camelot about a mile out to sea. She and Brandon had come to meet their uninvited guests and found Dante and Galahad hurrying to the ship.

You're sure that's your prince? Jen asked Galahad who rode behind her now, clutching her so tightly it inhibited her breathing.

I'm sure that's my prince's banner. Galahad shrugged, the movement tightening his grip.

Relax before you smother me.

He mumbled an apology and released his grip a small degree.

Shall we wait, Jen, or go greet them? Brandon rose a mailed gauntlet to shade his eyes. His horse, Ed, floated a foot from the ground, his hoofs appearing to give off small gray clouds.

She peered over her shoulder, but the beach and the stone quay remained empty. Wooden boats bobbed in the gentle swell. A quick count showed all thirty accounted for.

We might as well see what they want. You better wait here in case they fire on us, she said to Galahad.

Galahad slipped from Gallant's back to the rock road that formed the quay. Twenty feet wide, the road curved half a mile out to sea, enclosing the beach. A wooden rail traveled the length of the shoreward side. Stone jetties and wooden docks jutted to sea on the seaward side.

Every time she came to the shore, the docks had changed. The druids and wizards were constantly altering and refining their designs. The latest addition was three, thirty-foot long, wooden buildings and two, crenelated stone towers on either side of the gap left in the seawall to reach the ocean. By the neatly mortised joints and size, she knew they were human constructed with Rob's help, not druid formed. A wooden lattice meant to keep sharks and jellyfish from the beach covered the gap. Images of fish and water plants were grown right into the wood, Kuan's work. He had a real flare for fine decorative detail.

The square towers reached fifty feet into the air, a combination of human and druid construction, and contained both large wooden horns grown in place by the druids and the material to start bonfires, also grown in place. Small potted trees would be manipulated at need by the druids, limbs arranged and twisted to provide a good base for fire, the life sucked from the branches by Kirk and the remaining moisture by a druid and the resultant dead tree lit, saving tons of time and effort.

Both towers blazed now. A light scent of burning pine overlaid the fresh sea air.

Galahad, you stay, Dante said. I'll accompany Sir Brandon to our prince. If I'm killed, get your report to the king. He rode behind Brandon, balancing easily on the flying horse.

Galahad nodded and stepped back as the two fairy steeds leapt into the air.

Jen peered over her shoulder. Galahad lifted a hand in farewell and a chill raced along her spine.

Arrows arced up from the boat as they approached. Too far to hit them, they splashed harmlessly into the water. Chainmail-clad bowman lined the rail. Behind them, men in mail clutched swords and shields.

Stop! Brandon bellowed. His voice echoed over the water with magical clarity.

Jen added will to her voice, making it loud enough to carry across a battlefield. Stop or we'll be forced to assume you're hostile!

She summoned her sword and shield with a thought. Blue mist solidified into her white armor before she could blink.

Aww, give 'um a thrill and keep the prot set on, Brandon said.

Jen gave Brandon the finger, and he snickered.

Asshole. I really wish you'd picked the breechcloth and club.

Brandon pretended to buff his nails on his shiny black pauldrons. Ha, it could be worse. You might've picked Kendra's set.

Reminded of the woman their king had just beheaded, Jen winced.

The merriment fell from Brandon's voice. "Sorry. Forget I mentioned her. We've got enough shit to worry over.

Gallant continued toward the boat, white wings flapping in slow, deep sweeps. The breeze soothed Jen's hot cheeks. She was close enough now to make out detail.

I'll go first, Bran. Hang back so a lucky shot doesn't kill Dante. Jen urged Gallant ahead of Ed with a thought. A flick of her fingers covered her horse in an invisible shield. Cease fire; I come in peace! she bellowed at the boat.

You are an abomination. A creature of the devil! a man shouted.

He stood at the prow and waved a clenched fist at them. Two men crouched before him holding up shields. From where she hovered Jen could smell the men lining the rails behind him. An acrid odor of unwashed bodies and fear.

God, we must be terrifying, Brandon said in English.

Jen took a deep breath and tried to sound reassuring and not angry. Brandon was right. She'd be terrified too. I'm a Fae, a daughter of Danu, the spirit of the Earth. I'm neither evil nor of the devil.

So would a demon say.

He's got you there, Brandon said from behind her.

You're not helping, she mumbled, but not loud enough for any to hear. She rose her voice. Then go! These are our lands!

Arrows plinked into her shield, making the air around her shimmer before the arrows fell into the sea.

You're really starting to piss me off, she said in a normal voice.

Brandon chuckled.

A man in a red robe strode forward and rose his arms as he yelled, And in the synagogue there was a man which had a spirit of an unclean devil and cried out with a loud voice!

And Jesus rebuked him saying hold thy peace! Brandon yelled back, surprising Jen.

The armed men lining the boat rails hunched and muttered. They were too far to make out what they said, but their wide, staring eyes told her they agreed with their bishop. They'd likely heard rumors of magic but couldn't have expected to see anything like Jen or Brandon. Jen's lips tightened. She and Brandon where here to stay, and whether the men of this era liked it or not, they had magic. She wasn't going to apologize for that or hide.

The bishop, identifiable for what he was by his red robe and a cross dangling from a thick, gold chain around his neck, strode to the prow and rose his arms. Sun glinted off his balding head and sparkled on his ruby ring. Blaspheme! You will surely burn in Hell!

Do you own the scripture then, so that only you may quote it? Brandon retorted.

Jen motioned Brandon back. Whatever— this is your last warning!

She brought Gallant closer to the ship until she hovered three feet from the man in the red robe. He made a sign meant to ward off evil spirts before clutching his cross and holding it out as if it would push her away. Caught between terror and disgust, his lip wrinkled and eyes bulged, his expression so comical Jen almost laughed. Her gaze flicked to the terrified men behind him and she sobered. These men would fight and die for the bishop. To them, the bishop was the mouthpiece of God. She was careful to speak loudly, wanting none to miss her warning. If they attacked, she'd protect her people. It was what she was— a protection paladin.

The next shot will be met by return violence!

She spoke so loudly the men she addressed jerked and held their hands to their ears.

We won't allow you to land on our shore and threaten our citizens! Or, you may sail away in peace! The choice is yours!

Lady Frey, Prince Mondred said in a tone Jen couldn't decipher as he stepped up beside the man in the red robe. Bishop Rufus has come to see for himself if the rumors are true. I see you've brought my knight. His gaze flicked to Dante, riding behind Brandon. Or are you with them now?

No, Sire. Sir Brandon has graciously consented to bring me to you. The lady speaks truth. They're not devils, but Fae and very powerful.

Will you let my knight dismount?

Ed hovered above the deck, his hooves not quite touching the wooden planks. Men shouted and rose their weapons but stood back to make room. Dante slipped from the horse's back and bowed his thanks.

Thank you, Sir Brandon. I will confer with my prince.

Just so we're clear here. If you come to our lands and attack us, not only will you die, but so will whoever sent you! So saying, Brandon had Ed rear and paw the sky, then leapt upward.

Jen followed, peering over her shoulder at the boat. Armed men stared after them. Dante, the prince and the bishop had disappeared below deck.

I hope they don't kill him, Jen said.

Brandon hovered above the quay and stared over his shoulder at the distant boat. Me too, I liked him.

I'll go tell the king our guests will be a while. Jen urged Gallant back to Camelot with a thought.

*  *  *

Dante dropped to his knees and kissed first the prince's hand, and then the bishop's, surprising himself by feeling a little foolish.

Rise. Mondred gestured to the hatch leading below deck.

Call us at once if the evil spirits return, Bishop Rufus said to the man standing beside the hatch.

Dark and damp, the odor of fish and sweat permeated the dimly lit room. Dante wrinkled his nose at the stench, trying not to gag. Five months of living with fairies in their sparkling clean city had sensitized his nose to scents he'd previously not noticed.

The prince gestured to a wooden bench before a table bolted to the floor. Two oil lamps hung from chains, swaying with the movement of the boat, casting flickering shadows over the room.

My lord, I have pictures drawn by their druid of their home if you wish, and samples of their crafts in my bag. Dante swung his backpack from his shoulder and let it fall to the table.

You no longer wear your armor?

Dante glanced down at his drawstring pants and light, blue shirt that laced with thin strips of rawhide, all gifts from the Fae king. It isn't needed there.

Their city is so safe a man can go unarmed? The bishop reached for a metal carafe and poured himself a deep draught.

Mostly. These clothes have been enchanted, but I could safely wear plain linen. My armor wouldn't help me one whit from the danger.

Sit, Mondred said and poured two glasses. He handed one to Dante. They treated you well?

Very well. I believe they were truthful in all respects and showed me everything I asked to see.

And their king?

Jon is a powerful warrior and a fair man. Dante opened his pack and removed a leather-bound book. He flipped pages and then pointed at a charcoal drawing. King Jon Arthur.

Mondred took the book and examined the portrait. He wears his hair short? He ran a hand along his dark beard.

They all do, Sire. The event that transported them here and made them Fae left them bald.

The event? Mondred flipped to the front and stilled. Good Lord, is this an actual representation? He stabbed a thick finger at the drawing of Camelot.

Dante rose and peered over his shoulder. Mostly. They've added a new tower here. He tapped the right, front corner. And they widened the entrance way. And maybe moved a few of the taller towers around. It's hard to keep track; it changes all the time.

But the scale…

Bishop Rufus grabbed the book.

Camelot is huge and growing. It's a true elven hall made of live trees, Dante said.

The bishop slammed the book closed. They have ensorcelled you.

Dante shook his head at the bishop. No. You saw them fly. That's the least of what they're capable. The bishop's lips thinned, and Dante turned back to Mondred. Please, Sire, hear me out. If you attack them, I promise you, it will be your doom.

He fumbled in his pack and pulled out a thin, glass vial filled with a green liquid. Silver filigree covered the sides, connecting to a silver stopper. A healing potion. Only the recipient may open it. He offered it to his prince.

The bishop snatched it and slammed it on the table. The glass remained intact. He tried again, then grabbed his jeweled dagger and hit it repeatedly, grunting with effort.

Nothing will break it. We've tried, Dante said, careful to keep his tone respectful.

Mondred plucked the vial from the bishop's hand and tried to pry the top off. He handed it back to Dante. How well does it work?

Dante drew his dagger and slashed his arm. A flick of his thumb opened the vial, and he drank the contents. The vial disintegrated into blue mist and faded to nothing. The wound closed, disappearing before their eyes. In seconds, pink skin lay beneath his blood-smeared arm.

I no longer have any scars. It works wondrously well. I've seen it restore lost limbs and cure blinded eyes. It doesn't restore youth, but it does restore vigor. Stooped men straighten and walk with strength. I've seen them use it on animals too.

How can an animal open a flask? Lip lifted in a sneer, the bishop flipped open the book again.

The recipient opens it and pours the potion into their mouth. I have many of these on shore.

They just gave them to you? Are they so easy for them to make then? Mondred asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Yes, the warlock makes them by sucking the life from the trees. Dante flipped through the pages and stopped on one showing a tall thin man standing over a cauldron. Sir Kirk Moreland. With a sweep of his hand he can enchant an article of clothing or weapon. I've seen him enchant a simple kitchen knife to freeze the food it cuts. Daggers, swords, anything he wishes he can enchant to harm with ice or fire. He can conjure food that doesn't rot, stones that can summon a friend from far away to your side in an instant, and the potions. He can craft a monstrous shadow to do his will and a green fire that will only burn his enemies. He flipped the page and tapped a doorway. One of the few colored pictures, the door appeared to be solid, sickly green.

With these he moves from place-to-place like the wizards do, but his doorway any may use.

And yet you say they aren't witches.

They aren't. They're Fae. They change their shapes and fly through the sky. Their druids can commune with plants. Their crops grow with startling speed right before your eyes. From a seed to fruit in moments.

How many are there?

Dante wrinkled his brow in thought. I'm not sure at the moment. There were sixteen noble Fae and eighty-six Lesser Fae, but one died, and they rose others to take her place.

So, they can be killed. Mondred leaned forward, folding his hands and placing his elbows on the table.

Yes, but not easily, and the Fae killed was by all accounts a weaker one but much loved by the others. She had the voice of an angel and danced so beautifully it could make you weep. Tears clouded Dante's eyes. He ducked his head and fussed with his pouch to hide them.

Who killed her? How and why?

I better start at the beginning and tell the complete tale.

The bishop scowled and examined Dante with narrowed eyes. First, you must go to confession and rid yourself of their accouterments.

He slid a finger under the thin leather thong holding Dante's translation stone. Blue motes swirled slowly in the clear glass sphere.

It's a translation stone from the warlock. With it, I can understand any spoken language. Anything the warlock writes is readable by everyone or his recipient only, as he wills it. The wizards can read anything and make their writing illegible to anyone except their recipient too. They can also lock anything so only those they wish may open it. Most of them can only cast helpful spells on each other and harmful spells on their enemies. But unlike the others, a warlock can act equally on friend or foe. Their shaman can give powerful talismans to his friends, but only to them. The warlock can enchant anyone's armor to repel a strike or protect from heat or cold. The clothes I'm wearing have been enchanted in just this way. They call it leveling up gear. He can only form one enchantment a day. With these clothes, I feel neither cold breezes or hot sun, and Kirk, the warlock, assures me they'll withstand a hit better than my armor.

The bishop sliced the cord with his dagger and grabbed the clear orb in his fist.

Dante shrugged and smoothed the cuff of his shirt. It only works for the recipient. All conjured and enchanted items work that way. My bread will never rot, but only I can eat it. Dante handed the king a loaf to examine.

You've eaten their food and taken their potions; your soul is surely damned. The bishop stood and spun away. Go now and wash. You must fast and pray.

Dante knelt before Mondred. Please, Sire, heed me. To attack is folly. They can cast balls of fire and control the flame. The water, air, and earth obey them, and yet, they won't attack unless provoked.

Mondred absently fingered the hilt of the bloody dagger resting on the table. You sound sure.

I am. They've taken vows. Unlike us, if they break a vow, they die. At least I think they do. I didn't actually see that or hear it from their lips, but from a Lesser Fae. If I ask one, they'll answer.

They could lie.

Yes, but they can't swear it's true.

You risk his immortal soul with this talk! the bishop snapped. Let him begin his repentance.

He can repent tomorrow. He's lived among them for months; one more day won't hurt. Mondred clapped his hands. Bring us food and candles, he said to the man who entered and waved Dante to a seat. Sit and start at the beginning. Leave nothing out. Tell us of every moment of your time there.

Dante talked for hours. He rifled through the well-thumbed pages and pointed to a portrait of a beautiful woman. "Lady Samantha Quinn was murdered and beheaded. Her head hidden to prevent her resurrection. Sir Ethan Frey killed her attacker in single combat. Danu sent lightning and transformed another to take Lady Samantha's place.

I wasn't close enough to see what happened but something unexpected did. The king collapsed. He rose again minutes later, but the druids were healing him. All the knights disappeared, and I've seen only the two who brought me here since.

This is the time to attack— while they're weak. Bishop Rufus leaned forward, his black eyes glittering.

"They're not weak. Are you not listening? Dante slammed his hand on the book. The two you saw could easily kill everyone on this ship. They can heal each other. The fight we witnessed in Paris was nothing. To see them really move… they swing faster than you can blink and leap in twenty-foot bounds. I've seen them lift impossibly heavy loads. And they're not alone. Their Lesser Fae will fight for them. And how will you get in when the gates allow no one they don't wish to pass?"

Mondred laid a hand on Dante's arm. Be still, knight. I'm listening. Miguel succeeded because they were distracted and she weak. Let us go to shore and see these wonders for ourselves.

Please, Sire, have a care. Beyond their magic their differences are many. They have no respect for rank or privilege treating the commonest peasant the same as a knight.

Mondred flipped through the book again, examining the drawings of the castle and its grounds with its treehouses and hedges bordering the homes made of stone and living wood. He brought the book closer to his face to peer at the contents along a shelf behind a woman. The woman held a small, sharp knife in her right hand. A long braid of hair traveled over her left breast partially obscuring a red cross on a white tunic. The cross drew the eye as the only spot of color in the black-and-white picture.

Writing Mondred couldn't read ran along the bottom edge of each page.

Who's she?

Their healer for the those without magical heals. Even with a translation stone, her words confuse me. Her name is Arden Long, and they all use the honorific Doctor when speaking to her. They say it with the utmost respect. But I can't read the writing without my translation stone.

Return the stone to him.

The bishop withdrew Dante's translation stone from his pocket and let it fall to the tabletop. Encouraging the use of demonic artifacts will damn you both.

"It hasn't been determined that they are demons. Mondred tapped the book. The author of this book considers her important. See how detailed the picture is? It would behoove us to learn everything we can before entering."

The bishop sniffed. We should return and report.

Report what? Mondred leaned back in his seat, a slight smile on his full lips. Is your faith so weak you're afraid to enter and see for yourself?

Bishop Rufus tightened his lips and rose. I will go and pray for your soul.

Mondred waved his hand in dismissal, then tapped the picture.

"It says, First Do No Harm. This is the doctor's workshop, Dante said. He opened to the page showing the front of a thirty-foot-high wall before the castle and tapped a stone building with wide porches and round towers. This is her home and shop. She is Lesser Fae and keeps a supply of health potions in her home. Injured come to her, and she heals them. I hear— but haven't seen for myself— she experiments on them to see what the potions do. I've seen her make elixirs that burn and others that make people sleep."

They let you into their homes?

Yes. Most are friendly. I stay in the castle although they offered to make me any type of home I chose. Dante rummaged in his bag, then placed a rock model of a home on the table. The wizards can wave their hands and turn this into a full-size building. I could pick it up and set it down again anywhere I choose. Well, anywhere not already taken along the roads.

He traced his finger along a winding street. They have rules to keep the filth from their city. Houses must be ‘plumbed,' which means they connect to underground sewers to remove privy waste.

Tell me again how they choose and transformed their replacements.

I don't think they did. I believe Danu chose. They killed the evil paladin and a blue mist arose from the body. Lightning fell on the king from a clear sky. He pointed his sword, and the lightning jumped to the waiting Lesser Fae. I wasn't there when they transformed the other, but the stories I heard confirm it happened in a similar way.

And it hurts them?

It appeared to, but like I said, I never got a chance to ask.

The transformation takes time?

Again, I'm not sure as I never asked or saw it, but I believe it takes a few days at least— maybe much longer. I saw Sir Emilio Ruiz briefly when he returned from Limenware; he looked worn and ill.

Mondred leaned forward and lowered his voice. Are they really Fae?

Yes, Sire, Dante said steadily. Some are Christians too. Most seem pagan. I've seen none worship any other god though. Dante blushed and cleared his throat. They allow men to openly marry men.

Mondred drew back and curled his lip.

The citizens are very open with their affections, often kissing or hugging in public. Women wear whatever pleases them. Most wear the same as I, but some wear short skirts or short pants. I've never seen one topless, but I've seen them close, and the men don't appear to care. It's illegal to touch one without their express permission no matter what they wear or how they act.

Mondred's gaze traveled to the door, and he smiled. Bishop Rufus will be hardpressed to accept them. I can see a case could be made that their magic is clean, earth magic, but sodomites, and fornicators?

He rose and clapped Dante's shoulder. Eat and rest. I'm sure the good father will have you on your knees for days saying penance. I'll take your advice to heart and approach cautiously and be respectful. Still smiling, Mondred headed to the deck.

Dante stared after him uneasily. He drew the book before him and opened it to Lady Samantha's portrait. You were a fair and wondrous creature.

Tears again filled his eyes. She'd danced so beautifully and had been a kind and gracious hostess, taking him hunting where she'd charmed the woodland creatures to approach without fear.

The king and his knights had cried and fallen to their knees with her death. Her court had loved her. He sighed and closed the book.

It's an Instinct

Jon, thank God, Arden said when she opened the door. Oh, sorry. I was expecting the king. A blush crawled across her cheeks, and she spun away.

Jon, huh? Jen said and followed her inside the house. A grin lit her eyes, easing the frown on her face. Where are Gwen and the kids?

Instead of the usual cheerful greetings from the children, only silence greeted her. Cool stone walls blocked the June heat and muffled sound from the other rooms. Kuan had spent days designing and shaping Gwen's house. He'd used both stone and living wood to form the wide rooms. Large archways formed of growing branches separated the spacious rooms, the bare limbs reaching to the high ceilings where they spread leafy canopies. Shutters, made of dense vines, framed wide windows opened to the warm June breezes. Elaborately embossed chairs, covered with leather and fabric scraps and stuffed with straw, Kuan had grown and Kirk had harvested, sat before a long, wooden table grown to fit the space. Flowers and greenery climbed the walls connecting the stone portions to the wood and moss formed a dense carpet underfoot. The room had a charm and beauty Jen hadn't imagined possible. Only constant care from a druid could keep this sort of interior garden alive and healthy. Nothing like it could exist without them.

Through an open archway, the inner courtyard lay beyond wide, double doors, also open, revealing glimpses of bushes trained to resemble cartoon characters. The breeze brought the subtle scent of flowers instead of the usual aroma of fresh-baked goods.

Jen had entered from the private side of Gwen's home. The west side, which fronted the main road, was used as a cooking school. Normally, the interior courtyard echoed to the sound of children playing. The silence today felt ominous to Jen.

Arden laid a hand on Jen's shoulder, her gray eyes serious. Don't worry. I'll take good care of Dillion. Maria and Cami are preparing an underground chamber near the baths. I plan to float my patients with the druids and Tony's help. We'll keep the room dark and quiet. I wanted to speak to Jon about the morphine.

What about it? Do we have morphine? Jen asked hopefully.

A weak version. I wish I'd prepared better for this. There isn't time now though for Kuan to convince the plants to produce a stronger version. Well, that's not true. He could do it, but I don't want to take him from Dillion, and even if he did it, I wouldn't have time to test or prepare it. She glanced at her watch.

Jen followed the gaze enviously. She hadn't realized how annoying it would be to not know the time until she couldn't.

Do we have any other sedatives we could use?

Not safe ones, I'm afraid. He's too small. Alcohol and ether could kill him.

Arden bit her lip and stepped back.

Jen waved a hand in apology. Sorry. I can't help the eyes flaring blue. It's an instinct. Believe me, I'm just as unhappy about it as you.

Can't control it yet?

A bit. Jen smiled ruefully. I didn't summon my sword.

Arden rose an elegant brow. Thin black brows arched over her gray eyes set above high cheekbones, an aquiline nose and delicate chin. The thick brown hair pulled back with rawhide and pinned on the back of her neck with fancy wooden pins gave her a professional air.

Or maybe it was her self-assured stance, Jen mused. An inch taller than Jen at five-feet ten-inches, Doctor Arden Long projected confidence.

I bet you were an amazing doctor. I'm glad for our sake we have you, but sad for you.

The tip of Arden's full bottom lip curved up. Don't be sorry for me. I love doing all this research and it's a doctor's dream to cure her patients every time. I miss my friends and family and the future's amenities, but this era has compensations.

Like Jon?

Jen grinned when Arden flushed.

Gwen entered the room with a silent, pale Dillion. Kuan followed, carrying Sophia.

Hey, sport, how you feeling? Jen knelt to hug Dillion.

'Kay, I guess, Dillion mumbled and clutched Gwen's hand hard.

Jen ran a gentle hand over his head. It's okay to be scared. We were all scared. Being sick sucks. Three days, then you'll be all better and able to really cast.

A knock on the door interrupted her. Arden let Jon in. Dillion flushed and released Gwen's hand, but it was clear he didn't want to.

Hey, pal. Jon scooped him into his arms and hugged him tightly.

Jen stepped closer and laid her hand on Jon's shoulder. Arden did the same. A tremor shook his shoulders and he peered at her from blazing blue eyes.

Let's bring Dillion to my new hospital room and settle him in. Arden tugged Jon with her. Gwen and I will be with you, sweetie. Sophia has school, so she's coming home with Garret.

Jen bit back her laughter as Sophia complained about not being able to stay. Jon's shoulders eased as they crossed the sunny fields, which still comprised most of the space behind the inner walls, while Dillion spoke normally with Sophia.

When I can cast, we'll have fun disguising ourselves and sheeping people, Dillion promised Sophia.

Sophia giggled. What will I be able to do when I can cast?

Gwen inhaled sharply.

That's a great question. One your parents, Kuan, and I need to talk about. Jon tweaked her blond braid. For now, you be a regular girl. You have lots to learn before you can do anything else. We'll talk about it again when you're a big girl.

"I am a big girl," Sophia said indignantly, glaring at Jon.

Sophia, Gwen said quellingly and took her from Kuan. Don't pester. Not everyone can use magic just like not everyone can sing.

Jon paused as they approached the baths. A new house had sprung up, sitting in a copse of apple trees. Made of stone and trees grown tightly together, entwined branches formed the low roof. A thick, hawthorn hedge surrounded the trees with only a small gate formed of living wood allowing access to the house. Maria sat in the yard with her eyes closed. Flowers bloomed around her, adding a sweet fragrance to the air. Flowers began to bud on the fruit trees as they entered the yard. Knights carrying bedding and furniture through the gate paused to greet Dillion and touch Jon.

Ethan approached.