Read Flora Segunda: Being the Magickal Mishaps of a Girl of Spirit, Her Glass-Gazing Sidekick, Two Ominous Butlers (One Blue), a House with Eleven Thousand Rooms, and a Red Dog (Magic Carpet Books) for Free Online Page A
Authors: Ysabeau S. Wilce
said, I don’t believe in whacking, but I was glad that I was closer to the knife board than he was. “Are you hungry, Poppy?”
Poppy doesn’t eat much—crackers and cookies mostly which I leave at the bottom of the Stairs of Exuberance or Mamma takes up to him. But sometimes he comes looking for something more substantial, and maybe that was all he wanted tonight.
“Where’s Idden?” He sat down in the chair opposite me. His hands were steady and his eyes, sunken deep in the black stripe of the mourning band painted across his face, did not seem as bleary as usual. I had the sudden bubbling hope that he might be sober.
“She’s gone back to Fort Jones,” I said. “Her leave was over.”
“Lucky her. You can taste the sky at Fort Jones,” he said, reaching for my cake plate. “Get the hell down, Flynnie; you know that dogs can’t have chocolate. It will kill you for sure.” He paused the plate in midair and looked down at Flynn’s begging face, considering.
“Here, Flynnie, here, pup,” I said hastily, dangling a cinnamon cookie. You never can guess what Poppy will do next, and among all the dogs, Flynn is my favorite. Sometimes he sprays, and always he quivers, but he is my darling boy.
After Flynnie snatched the cookie, I tossed cookies to the other dogs, herded them all into the mudroom, locked the door, then put the key in my pocket. I wouldn’t have minded sitting in the mudroom with them, myself, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to leave Poppy alone.
“Where’s Flora?” Poppy asked, shoveling the cake in. The last time he had come down from the Eyrie, I hadn’t been home, so I hadn’t seen him for about two weeks. He looked the same, though: like hell. His face was sharp as a blade, and his clothes were filthy.
“I’m right here, Poppy,” I said, hoping he meant me, but pretty sure he did not.
“Not you. Flora. Where is she?”
He wasn’t sober. My heart sighed, and I tried to distract him. “When was the last time you changed your clothes, Poppy?”
He paused midshovel. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Well, they are awfully grungy, Poppy. Wouldn’t you feel better if you had some clean clothes? I’ll get you some if you want.”
“Where’s Flora?” he demanded again.
“Do you want ice cream with your cake, Poppy?” I asked. “I got three kinds: chocolate, peach—”
“Where is Flora?” His voice was getting louder.
“She went with Mamma on inspection,” I lied. I went to the icebox for the peach ice cream. He took the carton from me but, a moment later, abandoned the ice cream and sat silently, shoulders slumped, staring. “What’s wrong, Poppy?”
“I lost her, Flora,” he said sadly. At least he recognized me again. “The Birdies took her from me.”
“I know, Poppy, but it wasn’t your fault.” By Birdies I knew he meant the Huitzils. Huitzil means hummingbird and Birdie is the not-so-nice Califa nickname for our overlords.
“Your mother will never forgive me.”
“She will, Poppy, but you must forgive yourself.” Sometimes it is better to lie. Mamma never would forgive Poppy for losing the First Flora, but I privately felt that she deserved some of the blame herself. War is no place for a kid, yet Mamma had sent Flora to Poppy, and when he was captured, so was she. They were both taken to Anahautl City as prisoners. But although Poppy was ransomed, the First Flora was never seen again.
“Why didn’t your mother leave me there? I deserved the darkness. I broke faith, Flora, I broke my word. I swore I’d never leave her and I did. I left her behind.”
I didn’t know what to say. I swallowed hard, blinking. The chocolate torte had become a huge wad in the back of my throat.
“Do you want some more ice cream, Poppy?” I asked lamely. Mamma would have known what to say, but Mamma wasn’t there. At least, I thought dolefully, he wasn’t throwing things. I kept an eye on the door, anyway. A good ranger knows how to make a
Poppy doesn’t eat much—crackers and cookies mostly which I leave at the bottom of the Stairs of Exuberance or Mamma takes up to him. But sometimes he comes looking for something more substantial, and maybe that was all he wanted tonight.
“Where’s Idden?” He sat down in the chair opposite me. His hands were steady and his eyes, sunken deep in the black stripe of the mourning band painted across his face, did not seem as bleary as usual. I had the sudden bubbling hope that he might be sober.
“She’s gone back to Fort Jones,” I said. “Her leave was over.”
“Lucky her. You can taste the sky at Fort Jones,” he said, reaching for my cake plate. “Get the hell down, Flynnie; you know that dogs can’t have chocolate. It will kill you for sure.” He paused the plate in midair and looked down at Flynn’s begging face, considering.
“Here, Flynnie, here, pup,” I said hastily, dangling a cinnamon cookie. You never can guess what Poppy will do next, and among all the dogs, Flynn is my favorite. Sometimes he sprays, and always he quivers, but he is my darling boy.
After Flynnie snatched the cookie, I tossed cookies to the other dogs, herded them all into the mudroom, locked the door, then put the key in my pocket. I wouldn’t have minded sitting in the mudroom with them, myself, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to leave Poppy alone.
“Where’s Flora?” Poppy asked, shoveling the cake in. The last time he had come down from the Eyrie, I hadn’t been home, so I hadn’t seen him for about two weeks. He looked the same, though: like hell. His face was sharp as a blade, and his clothes were filthy.
“I’m right here, Poppy,” I said, hoping he meant me, but pretty sure he did not.
“Not you. Flora. Where is she?”
He wasn’t sober. My heart sighed, and I tried to distract him. “When was the last time you changed your clothes, Poppy?”
He paused midshovel. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Well, they are awfully grungy, Poppy. Wouldn’t you feel better if you had some clean clothes? I’ll get you some if you want.”
“Where’s Flora?” he demanded again.
“Do you want ice cream with your cake, Poppy?” I asked. “I got three kinds: chocolate, peach—”
“Where is Flora?” His voice was getting louder.
“She went with Mamma on inspection,” I lied. I went to the icebox for the peach ice cream. He took the carton from me but, a moment later, abandoned the ice cream and sat silently, shoulders slumped, staring. “What’s wrong, Poppy?”
“I lost her, Flora,” he said sadly. At least he recognized me again. “The Birdies took her from me.”
“I know, Poppy, but it wasn’t your fault.” By Birdies I knew he meant the Huitzils. Huitzil means hummingbird and Birdie is the not-so-nice Califa nickname for our overlords.
“Your mother will never forgive me.”
“She will, Poppy, but you must forgive yourself.” Sometimes it is better to lie. Mamma never would forgive Poppy for losing the First Flora, but I privately felt that she deserved some of the blame herself. War is no place for a kid, yet Mamma had sent Flora to Poppy, and when he was captured, so was she. They were both taken to Anahautl City as prisoners. But although Poppy was ransomed, the First Flora was never seen again.
“Why didn’t your mother leave me there? I deserved the darkness. I broke faith, Flora, I broke my word. I swore I’d never leave her and I did. I left her behind.”
I didn’t know what to say. I swallowed hard, blinking. The chocolate torte had become a huge wad in the back of my throat.
“Do you want some more ice cream, Poppy?” I asked lamely. Mamma would have known what to say, but Mamma wasn’t there. At least, I thought dolefully, he wasn’t throwing things. I kept an eye on the door, anyway. A good ranger knows how to make a
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