Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception

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Book: Read Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception for Free Online
Authors: Maggie Stiefvater
roaring; the central air had just kicked in. The blast from the vent had sent the clover rushing into my hand. Nothing more.
    I was oddly relieved.
    “Dee?”
    “What—yeah—no—sorry.” Movement caught my eye from my window. Down below, an unfamiliar car was pulling into the driveway. “I’m really sorry, James, but I’m totally crazy right now. I think I need breakfast or caffeine or something. Can I call you back?”
    “Yeah, of course. I’ve got practice today, but I’ll be around this afternoon.” His voice was concerned. “Are you okay?”
    I bit my lip. I had never kept anything from him before. Duh, you’re not keeping anything from him now, either. There’s nothing to keep . “I’m okay. I’m just like you said: all introverted and worn out.”
    His tone warmed slightly. “Poor Dee. Go get victuals. I’ll be ’round when you need me.” The phone clicked and I went closer to the window, pulling the curtain to the side to see who it was. I jumped slightly as I realized the driver of the car was looking up at me , craning his head out the window. Luke. How the hell did he know where I lived? Did I care?
    I scurried away from the window and tore off my T-shirt. A quick and untidy dig through my closet netted a better shirt. I’d keep the jeans. They made my butt look awesome. I put the clover back in my pocket and tore down the stairs, where I encountered the first defensive lineman: Delia.
    “That flute player is here. Who is he, anyway?”
    Good question.
    “Luke Dillon,” I said. I tried to edge past her into the kitchen but she followed, coffee cup in hand. Caffeine was her secret weapon. To foil Delia was to separate her from her coffee. It wasn’t going to happen in time to save me this morning.
    “Does he go to your school?”
    My lie wouldn’t have convinced Mom, but it worked for Delia. “He has friends there.”
    “He was quite good-looking.”
    True enough .
    Mom’s voice sounded from the kitchen—more defenders, not good—and Delia shuttled me in to be finished off for good. “Who’s good-looking?” Mom was holding the coffeepot; she refilled Delia’s cup, not realizing that she was topping off Delia’s head-demoness powers by doing so. I tried to see out, past the yellow-checked curtains above the sink.
    “The flute player who just pulled into the driveway,” Delia replied.
    Mom spun toward the window. “I didn’t see anyone come up! He hasn’t knocked, has he?”
    I said firmly, “I’m going outside.”
    Mom pointed to the counter as I was leaving. “Did you want to keep that? Dad found it on your harp case last night when he was bringing it in from the car.”
    It was a four-leaf clover, sitting on the counter next to the toaster. Like the other two I’d found, it was perfect—all leaves symmetrical—and completely unwilted despite its overnight stay in the car.
    “It’s not a hard question, Deirdre.” Mom pulled her standing mixer out of the cabinet and set it on the counter, no doubt preparing for my birthday cake. “You could press it in a book if you want it to stay nice.”
    I didn’t know if I wanted it to stay nice but I took it anyway, twirling the stem between my fingers. I had a prickling sensation in my stomach but I couldn’t tell what it was. Excitement? Fear? Hunger?
    “Yeah, maybe.” I went outside to meet Luke.
    He was crouching by the door of his car, eyes squinted in the white-hot sun, looking at my dog, Rye. Despite Rye’s unusual color—chalky white body and crimson red ears—he’s a typical hound dog: loyal, loving, and friendly to everyone in the world.
    Which is why his raised hackles stopped me in my tracks. Lying in the front yard, his head so low that it barely cleared the grass, Rye was staring at Luke, his lips raised almost into a snarl. Luke was calling to him in a soft voice, the pattern of it hypnotic and lulling. I guess his words could have been in a lot of different languages—but English wasn’t one of

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