“Nothing. He didn’t talk to me, but Ruairi overheard him asking after them, and Gasparo was irate when he learned they hadn’t been seen in days. They missed a meeting with him.”
“Does he suspect us?” Burke asked, voice hushed.
“I don’t know anything beyond what Ruairi told me.”
George let her vision unfocus as she stared at the distant wall. Ruairi was an elf who often handled food service to Gasparo’striclinium. He was also a good friend of Ean’s. She was inclined to trust the tale he’d shared with Adda. “We need to be vigilant—especially you three while you’re out in the halls.” She looked from Dunstan, to Burke, to Ean, who’d settled on a decanter during the conversation.
“Understood,” Dunstan confirmed.
“How’s theotherproject?” George asked carefully, aware they were never entirely safe from prying eyes and ears in the palace.
Adda’s smile was grim. “Ready when you are.”
The pill was complete.
Needing a break from heavy thoughts, and with her dining chamber far too close to the corridors for comfort, they passed the rest ofcenawith Ean regaling them with the Tale of the Six. The young faerie sat, or rather flitted, in his usual spot over the center of the table while he unleashed a lengthy and ridiculous story about a bunch of “wee bairns” stabbing a bear, melting some ice, and prancing around the countryside. As with all fae tales, this one was told in the slightly disconcerting present tense.
“Then the bairns crack up o’er the country, and the mas and das dance among the stars,” Ean finished with a flourish.
That boy loves being the center of attention.
Resituated on a crystal-topped decanter, Ean flitted his wings to spin in a circle while he reminded them all, “It couldaehappened eons ago. It may be occurring at present. It might be yet to come.”
It could be entirely fabricated,Georgie thought as she sipped her wine.
No matter the veracity of the folktale, Eanraig’s animated storytelling helped George keep her thoughts off the big issues for the length of the first and second courses, so she couldn’t complain.
“There are a lot of children in these stories. Is that like... a faerie thing?” Burke asked.
“Ach, they migh’nae be bairns. These tales come from the fates. We might all be bairns to them. Come on, I’ll serve ye allcomissatioin the other room.”
Feeling almost uncomfortably full, George and her friends followed along, albeit at a slower pace than the young fae.
Atinklepreceded their entrance to the chamber, Eanraig setting their post-dinner drinks. Another sounded at their backs as he cleared away the remains of the second course. Ean was remarkable, and George couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at the fine young man he was becoming. She couldn’t wait to pay him officially for his services to the Crown, to elevate him to the position he deserved.
Settling into seats with alcohol and a collective sigh, they all recognized it was time to discuss the road ahead.
“What do you have for us?” George began, her eyes on Ean, who produced a tiny goblet of who-knew-what for himself.
With his wings buzzing double time, it was a wonder he hovered and didn’t plow into a wall. “I’ve spent a lot of time researching the books and talking with the elders.”
She beckoned him over, needing him to take a seat because his constant movement was adding to her stress.
He nodded contritely before flitting over to sit atop her braids, making himself a throne among the gilt leaves.
That’s not what she’d wanted, but she allowed it.
“I dinnae ken for sure, but it seems to me that mindmolding is about the same as what the veil does. When ye lot implant magic into the minds of others, ye’re essentially building a big wall around the real memories.” Ean paused before leaning down to peek at George over the top of her forehead.
“Yes, Ean. I understand. Keep going.”
“Ye can each replace one sense from a real memory, that’s like painting a patch here or there. But when ye overwrite the whole thing, it’s nearly impenetrable. The veil seems to work in the same way, but rapidly and absolutely.”
“So we can’t fix it?” Burke cut in.
“Let him finish,” Wynnie replied, defending Ean for possibly the first time in her life.
“Ach, theoretically, if it was weak enough and justonebrick was gone and the right pressure provided, the wall could crumble.”
