Page 24 of Winds of Ruin
Elsedora
Agrid of abundant garden beds graced the cottage’s yard, surrounded by a charming half wall Leo had built stone by stone to keep out the rabbits. Berry bushes afforded them privacy from the path leading up to the palace, and a rope swing hung from a large oak out front, the wood nearly rotted through.
Emmerick’s mother greeted me at the door before I could knock.
With a hug, she squished some of the white roses between us. “My favorites,” she said. “The flowers and the company. I know precisely who sent these along. Thank you, dear.”
“He wouldn’t dream of missing it.”
Angeline’s eyes crinkled. Leo offered a bow of greeting from where he stood by the hearth. “Lady Lamoreaux, lovely as always to see you.”
“It’s Elsedora,” I reminded him. “Or El, or Elsie, or Else… You’ve plenty of options.”
Leo smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. He and Emmerick shared no blood, yet there were some mannerisms so uncannily similar between them. Silver threaded his beard, and his skin pinched with smile lines.
The Faulkers’ home luckily had remained unscathed during Firose’s uprising. I’d become a frequent visitor. They’d both finally retired from their duties this year, and Sybilla had insisted they stay in the cottage. Angeline still spent some days baking for the palace; we couldn’t keep her out of the kitchens for long.
“I’m headed out to the garden,” Leo said, and Angeline playfully shooed him away.
“Wait—first.” I handed him a blue-painted wooden box containing twelve decadent truffles.
He grinned and took the gift. “Oh, these will not last a day. Thank you, Lady Elsedora.”
“Of course. Emmerick would bring them himself if he could,” I answered. “Don’t let me keep you lovebirds. I should head back north.”
“Nonsense,” Angeline argued. “Come in for a cup of tea—it’s the least I could do. Though, I’d prefer you stay for dinner.”
I smiled; there was no refusing the woman if she wanted to feed you.
How could I complain?
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I said.
Leo pecked Angeline on the cheek before he exited the cottage to toil in the garden. Angeline ushered me further inside.
Once we were in the kitchen, she set down a plate of shortbread cookies on the table and started a pot of tea on the already-roaring hearth. There was a loaf baking, and it filled the room with a nutty, sweet aroma.
“How is my boy?” Angeline asked.
“In good spirits, all things considered. He was too worried about my well-being and your anniversary to share much.” I retrieved a vase from the top shelf of a well-loved oak hutch.
“There’s a bucket of water by the broom closet,” Angeline said, though quite familiar with the cottage by now, I was already halfway there.
“Thoughtful, that boy. He has been buying me those roses since he started earning his own coin. Actually, let me cut those.”
Angeline grabbed the flowers from me, and I laughed at her inability to let anyone do a single thing for her. She cut the stems and plopped the flowers down into the water I’d collected in the vase. “There we are. Beautiful.”
In the Lamoreaux Estate’s former glory, my mother had always kept a small loyal staff rather than adding to it for parties. She enjoyed flitting around the room to refresh drinks and hear about everyone’s lives. Propriety be damned in her household. Yet she’d been so loved for it. I imagined she would have gotten along well with Angeline.
“I’m glad you like them,” I said, with a weak smile. I’d let myself linger on the memory for too long.
“I am glad he has you, someone to talk to aside from us. I’m gladwehave you,” Angeline carried on as she gently patted my hand.
“You flatter me. I am not usually perceived well by mothers,” I chuckled out.
“And how are you usually perceived?”
“As a mother’s worse nightmare. Ruiner of honor, sparker of evil thoughts, and bringer of bad influence,” I only half-heartedly joked. I had, in fact, heard all those things in my younger years of immortality.
