The Doorway and the Deep by K.E. Ormsbee Read Free Book Online

dressed in their usual soft spectrum of colors. They were all wearing black.
    Eliot scratched his nose uncomfortably. “Did we not get the memo?”
    â€œIt looks like a funeral,” said Lottie.
    All eyes turned to Fife, who had gone very still. His hair, which always stuck up in an impressive defiance of gravity, now particularly seemed to be standing on end.
    â€œOh, sweet Oberon,” he said.
    Oliver’s calm blue eyes shifted to green. “Fife, what is it?”
    â€œOh, Oberon, no.
Nooo
.”
    Adelaide backed away from Fife, as though afraid he might spontaneously combust.
    â€œIs he broken?” Eliot asked Lottie.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Fife?” asked Lottie. “I’m sure there’s still cider left, if that’s what you’re worried about. Look! Cynbel is ladling some out right now.”
    At that moment, Cynbel looked straight at Lottie from across the clearing. She’d forgotten that, though wisps did not have keens like sprites, they still had exceptional hearing—especially Cynbel, the captain of the Wisp Guard.
    A terrible memory bloomed in Lottie’s mind. It was the day she had broken Mrs. Yates’ sewing machine after running a dishcloth under it, just to see if it would work. Mrs. Yates had been enraged. She’d called Lottie a stupid, worthless child and then threatened, for the first and only time, to send Lottie to an orphanage on the mainland. Lottie triedto push the memory out of her head, but she couldn’t with Cynbel’s eyes still fixed on her, dragging the images out. This was the very worst thing about wisps—their ability to stop her cold with their eyes alone.
    Cynbel’s hard gaze finally shifted from Lottie over to Fife. Then Cynbel smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
    â€œCynbel, that imbecile,” Fife observed. Then, “It isn’t a funeral. Wisps wear black as a sign of reverence.”
    â€œUm,” said Eliot, making a valiant attempt to follow, “so does that mean they’re being reverential or whatever to Autumntide?”
    â€œNo,” said Fife. “It means my uncle’s back.”

CHAPTER THREE
Ground Painted with Snowy Blood

    â€œ I THOUGHT the Tailor was searching for a cure in the northern territories,” said Oliver.
    Fife looked like he’d swallowed a live fish. “Yeah, I thought so, too. So did everyone. But the guy loves surprises. Come on, I’m investigating.”
    Fife motioned for them to follow. He skirted around the congregation of black-cloaked wisps and closer to the wood. The five of them edged along the River Lissome in single file, ducking behind a line of trees as they made their way closer to the glass pergola. Fife floated inches above the ground. He waved at the others to be quiet as they approached a narrow doorway carved into one of the pergola’s courtyards.
    â€œIsn’t Fife royalty?” Eliot asked. “Why do we have to sneak into the place?”
    â€œFife was born
to
royalty,” said Adelaide. “That isn’t quite the same thing.”
    â€œAlso,” said Oliver, “you might recall how we’re not exactly in a good way with Cynbel.”
    â€œThat’s all my fault,” Lottie admitted, thinking of what was now called the green paint incident. “Well, mine and Trouble’s.”
    â€œHe didn’t like us before that,” Oliver said.
    â€œMother and Uncle will be having a private conversation,” said Fife, “so we can’t very well go tromping into the pergola right in front of Cynbel and a whole court of wisps. Good news is that spiced cider has a rather
calming
effect on wisps when drunk in large quantities.” A wicked smirk stretched to Fife’s dimples. “And they
always
drink it in large quantities. As long as we’re careful, we shouldn’t have any trouble sneaking in while the lot of them are otherwise engaged.”
    â€œWhy are we