My heart stumbles against my ribs. “Y-You did? When?”
“Around the time of his Jubilee. I should’ve written him sooner, and probably signed my letter, but I was nervous that it would land in the wrong hands.”
Does she mean Salom’s? Ksenia’s? “Do you have any idea where the two could be hiding, Countess?” I ask. “Any at all?”
“Have you checked the Zaslofskys? Ksenia is close to them.”
“My mate has. He searched their house from top to bottom. He even searched their factory. Ksenia’s not there, nor is my niece.” Izolda sniffles. “They’re not anywhere.”
I tug Izolda into a hug. “We’re going to find them, Iz. We’re going to find them both.”
Under her breath, she whimpers, “Yes, but too late.”
“For your niece, but not for your sister,” I murmur against my friend’s pointed ear, praying I’m not misleading her with my interpretation of the prophecy. “Not too late for her.”
Or for Konstantin.Right, Cauldron?
“I’m sorry to have upset you, Miss Korol. Or should I call you Mrs. Flaherty? I heard you married your Crow. Congratulations on breaking the archaic norms of our land.” Turning to me, she adds, “May the interspecies marriage trend catch and spread far and wide.”
“It’s not a trend,” I point out as Izolda unwraps herself from my embrace.
“You’re right, my dear. It was the wrong word to use.” She smiles at me. Though her curve of lips lacks vigor, it doesn’t lack congeniality.
“Thank you, Countess.” Izolda’s voice still crackles with sorrow. “And sorry for having irrupted into your home.”
“I hope you manage to smooth out your family’s problems before the ripple becomes an unstoppable tide. Things in Glace might not be perfect, but Konstantinistrying. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see that. Best of luck, children.”
“Stay back, Countess!” Pietr the sprite lurches off his resting place beside the vase. “I’ve got everything under control!” He hovers in front of the noblewoman’s face, fists clenched in front of his flushed face as though readying himself to pummel us. “What are you smiling at, boy?” he hisses at Elio, his fountain-do shivering from how fast he beats his diaphanous wings.
“I, um…I…” Elio bumbles as he rubs his nape. “Nothing. I’m not smiling at anything.”
The Countess, though, is. “Stop picking on my new friends, Pietr.”
The sprite whirls around so fast that he dips. The Countess holds out her palm, and he lands, then tilts his neck to peer at her. “They’re Korols. Well, not the male, but the other two.”
Is it odd that I don’t mind being referred to as a Korol?
“I know who they are,” she says. “Could you brew us a large pot of rosebud tea, Pietr?”
The sprite’s mouth falls open.
“If my guests have time for tea, that is?”
Izolda gives her cheeks a quick swipe. “It’d be our honor, Countess.”
Elio crouches to retrieve the bakery box. “Should I bring these with us?”
“Should the sun rise?” the Countess volleys back.
He nibbles on his lip, glancing toward the dark panes of glass. “Is that a trick question?”
The lady of the house smiles at him, then holds out her arm to Izolda. “I’m dying to learn which of my books is your favorite.”
Izolda’s face brightens as though filled with Faerie-fire. “You’re truly expecting me to pick only one?”
“Top five, then.”
Elio and I follow close behind.
