Letters to Zell by Camille Griep Read Free Book Online Page B

officially has it out for the new girl.
    Maybe it’s just Rory’s way of missing you. Or she’s scared that I’m trying to replace you. Which is silly. What harm can possibly come of making new friends? When I saw Maro downtown at Gretel’s buying bread, she seemed so lonely. Or maybe tentative. Or indecisive. Who knows? But I asked her to the luncheon, and she came. Unlike others who will remain unnamed, she did not complain about my two-soufflé menu.
    Maybe you’ll understand Maro a bit better if I describe her to you. She’s got a toothy smile and a deep laugh. Her hair is that chestnut type of brown that all of us envy, but none of us have—you and I too blond, Rory and Bianca too dark. There’s something mysterious about her that I can’t quite put my finger on, something interesting, even shadowy. But we’ve only just met and I suppose I shouldn’t rush to judgment. Even though she and Rory didn’t get along terribly well at the luncheon, I had no idea things would get even worse.
    Maro’s most notable fault, I’d say, is that she’s a tad overly affectionate. She’s constantly clutching my arm or Bianca’s shoulder. She plants kisses on lords and ladies and winks madly at anyone who passes by. Last night, she even tried her cleavage on DJ when we were having drinks at the Swinging Vine. He shook his head and said, “Honey, you are barking up the wrong tree.” I imagine he and Rolf had a good laugh at that one when he got home—being hit on by the loudest pair of shoes in Grimmland.
    Meanwhile, Rory was whispering loudly to me that women like that “can’t ever be trusted.” I asked her how she knew and she told me that all of her romance novels said so. I told her I’d take it under advisement, but I also told her to relax.
    I thought maybe things would settle down afterward, but I should have known better. Maro had just finished her exchange with DJ when she sat back down and asked how long Rory had been awake.
    “Five years,” Rory answered. I know she hates the topic, though I was still surprised when she drained her wineglass.
    “Do you miss your friends from back then?” Maro gave a pitying smile.
    “Of course. But I know most of them lived full lives.”
    “What do you mean, most of them?”
    “Well, some of them. I don’t like to talk about  . . . ”
    “Oh my dear, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I merely wanted to hear the story. The curse. The daring rescue. The intrigue!”
    “Intrigue?” Rory’s mouth was hanging open a bit. Mine, too.
    “The kiss, darling. The kiss! It’s the most romantic story of all time!”
    Bianca snorted. “Of all time?” She folded her arms in on herself in that indignant pose she takes. “No one actually gets woken up by a kiss, you know. That’s all embellishment by the Humans.”
    “Oh, it’s just a figure of speech,” Maro said, waving a lazy hand at Bianca, who by this time was scowling.
    “Henry came into the castle as I was waking up. I was still pretty out of it. It’s not that big of a deal,” Rory mumbled.
    “Heavens, I hope you don’t let him hear that.” Maro gave a husky laugh, drawing her hand to her collarbone in dismay.
    “Whatever do you mean?” asked Rory.
    “No man wants to hear how unimpressive he is.”
    “I didn’t say he was unimpressive. I simply pointed out that I was already awake. That maybe it wasn’t quite the big production everyone makes it out to be.”
    “What a quaint little thing you are,” said Maro, leaning back. Rory looked up and her eyes had changed from grey to bright blue—you know, like they do when she gets super pissed off—and in one smooth motion, she grabbed my wine and poured it over Maro’s head.
    Maro was prying, sure. I should have seen the conflagration coming. But I didn’t.
    Rory made for the door. Bianca got up to follow her, but first she stopped, got right in my face, and said, “You. This is your fault. Fix it.”
    I guess I’ll have to keep them