Tangled Magick by Jennifer Carson Read Free Book Online

armful of wood and a bucket, distracting Huldfrejya.
    â€œPut it over there, and teach my new maids to start the fire.” The queen turned and plopped onto a chaise lounge. Mr. Whiteknoll returned with a bottle and a wineglass. He poured the burgundy-colored liquid and handed it to her.
    The queen took a sip and sat up a little straighter. “What is this?”
    â€œIt’s wedgeberry rum, miss. The finest of the season,” Mr. Whiteknoll said.
    Huldfrejya threw the glass across the room, splashing its contents everywhere. “It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.”
    Folkvarus walked toward the hearth, no change of expression on his face. Mae took the bucket from him and followed. Folkvarus knelt and stacked the wood. He kept hisvoice to a whisper. “It’s been a long while since a fire was started in the hearth. I think the queen believes that if she stays cold physically, her heart will remain frozen as well.”
    â€œI can hear you, Folkvarus!” Huldfrejya screeched.
    â€œJust telling the girls where to find what they need, miss,” Folkvarus said. He turned back to Mae and Poppy and lowered his voice even more. “On the first night of the full moon, follow the path.” His eyes took in Mae’s shorn head, and the corners of his mouth softened a little. He looked away, cleared his throat, and brushed the wood dust from his pants.
    Follow the path? What did Folkvarus mean by that?
    His voice returned to its normal level as he continued instructing them. “Turn this handle and it will open the flue. It must be open or the room will fill with smoke. You’ll find the flint and spark here.” He ran his hand across the mantel above the hearth. The eyes of the gargoyle shifted to watch the path Folkvarus’s hand took.
    Poppy yelped in fright. Mae grabbed her hand and patted it.
    â€œThings aren’t always what they seem to be in this castle,” Folkvarus said. “Here it is!” Folkvarus pulled down a tinderbox and blew the dust off it. He slid the top back, revealing a flint and a piece of steel.
    Mae dropped Poppy’s hand as she spotted a shovel under some debris in the corner of the room. She pulled a broken gilded birdcage, dirty porcelain dishes, spoons, and a yellowed and stained dress from the pile and set them aside. Mae then grabbed the shovel handle and yanked it free. She returned to the fire and started scooping the old ashes into the bucket.
    â€œPoppy,” said Mae. “Why don’t you find some odd wood bits that we can use for tinder?”
    Poppy gazed around the room. She scampered over to a small pile of dead ivy in the corner.
    â€œKeep a bit of ash in the hearth to cushion the new tinder,” Folkvarus said.
    â€œYes, I know,” Mae said. “We are used to kindling fires.”
    Poppy brought back the bits of vine and leaves and placed them on top of the small ash mound. Folkvarus sparked the steel against the flint, and several sparks nestled into the tinder. Mae blew gently, and Poppy stripped some pieces of birch bark off the logs Folkvarus had brought in, setting them in the flames. Soon the fire grew large enough that Mae could put the bigger logs in the hearth.
    Folkvarus grabbed the bucket handle and turned toward the door. “Looks like the girls will do just fine,” he said to the queen as he crossed the room. “I’ll come every morning to take the ashes and place some logs in the hallway. Don’t forget to feed the fire every couple of hours.”
    â€œThank you, Folkvarus,” Mae said.
    â€œDon’t thank him. He is a servant. It’s his job.” The queen flapped her hand at Folkvarus, who stood with his hand on the door pull. “Go away. Make sure the kitchen staff is preparing my supper. And I want crème brulee for dessert. Tell the new cook that if he burns it, I’ll roast his head for my dessert instead.”
    The queen