Lucky Rabbit

The adults glanced at each other, chuckling, but it was Matthias’s father who said, “Of course. Grace was quite popular about twenty years ago. Though I suppose I’m showing my own age now.” He went for what was probably meant to be a nostalgic smile, but held a little too much sneer to succeed. “No one understood why she’d choose to move out to the country to get married when she had plenty of prospects here in Knightmere. Especially when everyone knows Dark and Light mages can’t-”

He broke off, but to Pandy it was obvious that he was trying to draw her in like a spider with a web placed right beside a tantalizing light. As far as she could tell, however, there was no downside to biting, so she took a half-step closer and said, “Can’t what?”

The man exchanged a glance with a red-haired woman nearby. The woman’s lips curved up, and she gave a tiny tilt of her head. Matthias’s father leaned forward until his lips almost brushed Pandy’s ear – it took all of her willpower not to run off in search of some antiseptic – and said, “They can’t have children.”

Pandy did jerk back at that. “Of course they can! Lian and… I mean, my brother and I are proof!”

Straightening, Matthias’s father tugged at the lapels of his coat, giving Pandy a condescending smile. “Of course, of course. I’m certain you are.”

Pandy was trying to decide whether to continue the argument, as the man obviously wanted her to, or storm off in a huff of righteous fury, when Matilda laid a hand on her elbow. When Pandy looked back, the girl shook her head, though she was biting her lips so hard Pandy had to suppress an almost instinctive urge to use Minor Heal on it. Augustus had warned her against using any magic if possible, since someone here might have a way to sense it, and one of their goals might well be to figure out what kind of magic Thaniel had.

Clenching her fists at her sides, Pandy took a step backward, almost tripping over Matilda’s long skirt in the process. Pandy-Thaniel was the only child wearing their school uniform, even though the invitation had explicitly stated that a uniform was acceptable, and Pandy was glad she didn’t actually care what any of these people thought of her or Thaniel. If they decided she was naive or uncouth because she hadn’t known they didn’t really mean a uniform was fine, that might actually make them underestimate her even more.

Matthias’s father looked a bit put out at Pandy’s retreat, but he flicked a glance at his son and said, “Well, it was nice meeting you, Nathaniel,” before turning away.

Matthias immediately stepped into the gap and, completely ignoring Matilda, said, “Let me introduce you to a few more people, Thaniel.” But before he could follow through on this threat, he was interrupted by the sound of a gentle chime. Everyone instantly stopped speaking and turned toward a set of doors on the other side of the room from where Matilda and Pandy had entered.

A woman stood there, ethereally lovely in a pale dress that looked more like a burial shroud than the elaborate gowns that were popular right now. Her dark hair was equally loose and flowing, draping and curling around her shoulders, strongly resembling her daughter’s in all but color. Pandy had seen the woman in the paintings of Matilda’s family, so she knew who she must be even before Matilda murmured, “Mother.”

“Dinner is ready,” the woman said, her voice surprisingly husky. Stepping to the side, she motioned for everyone to enter the room behind her. The only people who moved were her husband and daughter.

Wulfric Winfielde was across the room in two long strides, his face pale with some strong emotion. He gripped his wife’s arm and leaned down to whisper something in her ear, but as far as Pandy could tell, she didn’t even hear him. Instead, her pale blue eyes drifted from face to face, lingering longest on Matilda’s before landing on Pandy’s – or rather, Thaniel’s.

Pulling away from her husband, Lady Mossley drifted toward Pandy – and drifted was the only proper word for it. Nox and Nyssa were both drifters in the most literal sense of the word, and Pandy knew what it looked like when someone’s feet weren’t actually involved in their locomotion. She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on within the diaphanous skirt, but if Lady Mossley’s legs were moving, Pandy would eat one of Geraldine’s hats.

Stopping a few feet in front of Pandy, Lady Mossley sat on the ground. Her skirt billowed up around her as she just plopped down, then patted the carpet on either side of her with open hands. Smiling at Matilda and Pandy, she said, “Sit.”

They sat. There simply wasn’t another option. Matilda sat to her mother’s right, and the woman immediately pulled her daughter in, placing a kiss precisely on the top of her head. Matilda smiled, though Pandy would have sworn the girl had tears in her eyes.

As soon as Pandy was seated beside her, Lady Mossley reached out and gripped Pandy’s chin, turning her face this way and that. “You look like a ghost,” she said in such a conversational tone that Pandy thought she’d misheard. But the woman went on. “A ghost or a dream, or perhaps both, but either way, welcome.” She smiled brightly, and Pandy smiled back, unable to help herself.

“Thank you, um-” Pandy said, throwing Matilda a frantic glance.

“Alvena,” Lady Mossley said, leaning in to whisper into Pandy’s ear, “Your mother was my very best friend in the whoooooole world.”

Pandy froze. Grace knew this woman? Not just knew, but was best friends with her? “She… was? What was she-?” What was Grace like as a girl, as a young woman? How had they known each other? Had Alvena met Bryan Conroy? What did she know about Grace’s final, ill-fated pregnancy? Why had Thaniel and Lian’s mother been so desperate to reach Ismara’s temple in Knightmere that she had fled her safe country home during a plague?

A heavy hand came down on Lady Mossley’s shoulder. “Alvena, darling,” Matilda’s father gritted out between clenched teeth, “you said you weren’t feeling well. There’s no place for you at the table.”

Alvena looked up, smiling as she patted her husband’s hand, for all the world as if he’d just offered her some sweet compliment. “There was room at the children’s table, so I had the servants set one there. That way I can spend time with my darling Tilly, and get to know Grace’s child.”

The fabric of her dress pulled as the man’s fingers tightened, but just as Pandy was about to intervene even if she had to break character to do so, he released his wife. “Fine,” he said. “But it’s time to go in. You yourself said so, do you remember?”

Lady Mossley’s brow creased, and she looked over to her daughter. “Did I say that, Tilly?” Matilda nodded, and Alvena gave a sigh, gathering herself. “I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. Unless it was a lie, since lies are untrue by definition. But if it wasn’t a lie, it must be true, and it seems like a silly thing to lie about.”

Coming to her feet in a motion so smooth it probably shouldn’t have been physically possible, she held her hands down for Matilda and Pandy. “Come, my darlings. You must each sit beside me and tell me of your mothers.” She smiled at Matilda like a child who had just told a joke they believed was supremely funny, and Matilda gave a weak laugh.

The three of them made their slow way into the other room, where Pandy found that there were indeed two tables. The adults seated themselves around the larger one of the two, with Matilda’s father, Wulfric, at the head. To his right was the woman with red hair, and Matthias’s father sat to his left.

The other table was smaller in every way, with shorter legs and three-quarter-sized chairs. All of the other children were there already, but Miller Oakden sat in the only chair with arms, and there was an empty seat to his right that Pandy assumed was for her or Geraldine. Lady Mossley walked right up to that seat, grabbed the back, and hauled it toward the opposite end of the table, where two more empty chairs waited.

Smiling at Lamonia, who was already seated in one of the nearby chairs, Matilda’s mother simply shoved the girl’s chair to the side, making room for the newly acquired seat, and nearly causing Lamonia to fall. For some reason, the girl didn’t even seem to mind, simply scooting her chair even further out of the way with an expression that almost looked like relief.

“There,” Lady Mossley said, gesturing for Matilda and Pandy to sit to her right and left. They did, and she took the empty chair in the middle, once again instantly reaching for her daughter so she could press a kiss to Matilda’s golden curls. Then, turning to Pandy, she said, “Do you know your mother hated asparagus? I remember once when we were at Condor, she stuffed a whole bunch into her skirt pocket during dinner, and then forgot about it until the next day, when we were on an excursion and-”

Alvena Mossley was a treasure. She regaled the table with stories that had all of the children nearby convulsing with laughter. Apparently, while she and Grace individually were quiet, obedient children, whenever they were together they somehow ended up in more and more ridiculous scrapes. Honestly, it didn’t sound entirely unlike the kinds of situations Pandy found herself in, except that the two girls brought them upon themselves, and somehow never suffered any serious consequences.

Food was brought, eaten, and taken away, without Pandy even really noticing what it was she was eating. None of it was particularly interesting, and it definitely wasn’t as good as what Mr. Farrier made every day at Falconet, so Pandy just politely masticated a few bites of each thing while she listened to Lady Mossley talk.

That changed when she got a notification from the System.

You have been Poisoned.

Poison is ineffective.

You take no damage.

Because it’s not poison.

Well, it is, because it’s a foreign substance meant to cause injury, illness, or death, but-

Anyway, act tired.

Just then, Lady Mossley laid her hand over her mouth and gave an enormous yawn, her dark lashes fluttering. On her other side, Matilda was already drooping, the cup in her hand tilting dangerously to the side. Pandy looked down at her own hand, rather startled to find that there was a cup in it. Fizzy bubbles popped on the surface of a golden beverage, and the taste of sweet citrus lingered on her tongue.

On the other side of the table, the older boy Matthias had introduced Pandy to was face down in his plate, melting raspberry sorbet forming a concerning red pool beneath his nose. Matthias himself was looking down at his cup, a horrified expression of realization seeping through his own wide yawn. The only person at the table who appeared unaffected was Miller, whose glass sat untouched by his plate. His eyes were fixed on Pandy.

As Matilda slumped forward, her curls dipping into the sorbet, Pandy listed sharply to the side, reaching across Lady Mossley’s slim body to push hard on the other girl’s leg. Matilda tumbled sideways, practically landing on top of Lamonia Kimball, who was still struggling to keep her eyes open. Lamonia fumbled groggily for whatever had struck her, then toppled out of her own chair, landing in a tangled heap with Matilda on top of her.

Pandy let her body go limp, her eyes rolling up as she slid down, slipping beneath the table and out of sight. She desperately wished she could change to her rabbit shape, but that was probably a hop too far, so instead she just grabbed hold of Matilda, giving the other girl a Minor Heal as she made certain Matilda’s airway was open and she was in any obvious distress. It might be risky to use magic, but if this really was some kind of poison, Pandy wasn’t going to allow the girl to die if she could do anything about it.

Minor Heal successful.

Healed Matilda for 3 HP.

Eighty-nine uses until level 28.

Oh. Not dying, then. That was good. Pandy thought.

I think so.

It’s doing something else as well, or trying to, but it’s nothing directly harmful.

In for a bunny, in for a hound. That was how that saying went, wasn’t it? In any case, Pandy tried Minor Heal again, but it failed, indicating that Matilda was still at full health. All right, so far it looked like Keros knew what he was talking about, and whatever this was had already done its job.

But now, Pandy was under the table, and she had no doubt someone expected her to stay there. She needed to be ‘unconscious’ before anyone came to check on her. Trying to get back into an ‘I just slid down here when I passed out’ position, she laid her head back in the seat of her vacated chair, her right side pressed against Lady Mossley’s skirt.

Beneath her arm, something moved, and it very definitely wasn’t a leg.