Bryony and Roses by T. Kingfisher Read Free Book Online

carrots, the house apparently having no idea that you were eventually supposed to stop producing them. “Let me put Fumblefoot in the barn, and then…well, I’ve got a lot to tell you.”  
    And may God have mercy on me while I tell it…
    She wasn’t worried about Holly. Holly would overcome this the way she overcame everything. When they had lost everything and fled the city in disgrace, when their father had died during the long winter that followed, Holly had gotten up every morning and thrown herself into the next task at hand, sometimes not saying more than ten words a day, but still plowing grimly forward.
    It was Iris who Bryony was worried about. She sighed.  
    Holly matched her step for step as they went back to the barn, where Fumblefoot lived with Blackie the goat.  
    “Something’s up,” Holly said, before they’d gotten halfway there. “You’re not yourself. What happened?”
    “I’ve been home two minutes,” said Bryony, annoyed. “Couldn’t I just be tired?”
    “No. You’re walking wrong. Like you’re expecting somebody to jump out at you.”  
    Holly had a cheerful pink face and big, twinkling blue eyes, and Bryony occasionally had to remind herself that her sister also had a mind like a handful of razors.
    “I’d rather only tell it once,” said Bryony tiredly. “You’re not going to believe me anyway, either of you, and it’ll be easier this way.”
    “I’ll believe you,” said Holly. “You’re my sister. I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me about anything important.”
    “I lied to you about who got punch on your favorite dress when you were twelve.”
    Holly waved this off as unimportant. “Yes, well, I dropped your doll down the well, so it all evened out.”
    “Mmm.” Bryony unsaddled Fumblefoot and gave him a desultory rub down. They had come out of the woods less than a mile from Lostfarthing, despite the complete impossibility of doing so.  
    Holly hefted the saddlebags over her shoulder as they walked towards the house. Chickens clucked and wobbled out of their path. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said.
    “It’s something,” said Bryony.
    “In that case,” said Holly, switching shoulders, “just let me know who you want dropped down a well, and I’ll see what I can do.”  

    Telling her sisters did not go as well as Bryony had hoped.
    She told the whole story through, sitting on a stool in front of the fire, with her fingers wrapped around a mug of peppermint tea.  
    At the end of it, Holly said “Huh!” explosively, and then there was a brief silence, and Iris burst into tears.
    Holly rolled her eyes and dropped a shawl over Iris’s shoulders. (It didn’t stop the crying, but it did rather muffle it, and it usually calmed Iris a bit, like covering a birdcage.) Holly drew closer to Bryony. “Now,” she said, “if you say this is what happened, I will believe you. But I have one question first.”
    “Ask,” said Bryony wearily, staring into her tea.
    “Did you meet someone and fall madly in love and now you’re running away with him to a better life and this was seriously the best story you could think of? Because if it is—”
    “Oh God, if only!” said Bryony, and started laughing painfully, which only made Iris cry harder.  
    “All right, then,” said Holly. Her eyes strayed to the little chest on the mantelpiece. “I will admit, the coins make compelling evidence…although he values you far too cheaply, if that’s all he thinks you’re worth…”
    Bryony hadn’t mentioned that the Beast had offered her gold. She made a noncommittal sound and took a sip of tea.
    “So now that that’s settled,” said Holly, sitting back on her heels, “you obviously can’t go back.”
    Bryony hadn’t really expected them to cheerfully agree that she should march back into the hands of the Beast, but she was hoping to get Holly on her side, at least.  
    “But—”
    “A strange man-monster lures you into