Thrice Sworn: A Short-Story Prequel to Winterling by Sarah Prineas Page B
Authors: Sarah Prineas
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darkness.
Finn ran into the clearing and spat out his shifter-tooth, catching it in his hand.
The human-Owen dropped the blanket and stepped half in front of the Lady. “What is that ?”
The Lady stepped up beside him. “He’s a puck, Owen,” she answered. “Tricksy, not to be trusted. Or so I’ve heard.” She rested a protecting hand on her round belly and asked Finn, “What are you doing here, Puck?”
“It’s well you should ask, Lady,” Finn answered. Carefully he stowed his shifter-tooth in the little leather bag he kept on a string around his neck. “I’ve been here before, as happens, and I don’t think you have any cause to complain of me, even though I am a puck as you’ve noted and I could’ve brought you any amount of trouble, if I’d wanted to.”
“Mm,” the Lady said. “That is so. Though my people have complained to me of a puck-chatterer who likes to trap them and tell long stories they don’t understand about people they’ve never met.”
“I haven’t done them any harm,” Finn protested. “And I tell a good story.”
“Answer the Lady’s question,” the human-Owen growled. “What are you doing here?”
“I am here talking to you, Human-man,” Finn continued, “because you were right, what you said before, and—”
“You’ve been spying on us?” Owen interrupted.
“So what if I have?” Finn shot back. “I am here , as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by this human-person, that this unmannerly human is right, Lady, and the Mór, your Huntress, is plotting against you.”
“Do you see, Laury?” the Owen-human put in. “It’s what I told you. Even he can see it.” He pointed at Finn. “Something is wrong here.”
“All you have is a feeling about it, Owen,” the Lady said, shaking her head. “What about you, Puck?” she demanded. “What proof of this do you have?”
“I heard her say it,” Finn answered promptly.
“Laurelin . . . ,” Owen began.
The Lady was shaking her head. “He’s a puck, Owen. That means by nature he is a trickster and will say anything to stir up trouble. That is what he is doing now: trying to sow discord between me and my most trusted ally.”
Owen frowned.
“Here, I’ll show you.” She nodded at Finn. “Puck. What is your name?” In a lower voice, she spoke to Owen. “Watch, he’ll lie about it.”
Finn scowled. His name was Finn, but no puck would ever tell his true name to a Lady. “Robin,” he answered sullenly.
“Did I not tell you?” the Lady said to the human-Owen.
The human blinked, confused. “Is his name not Robin?”
“No. It’s the name all pucks use with anyone who is not a puck. They’re all Robin. It’s just another one of their tricks. It’s best not to listen to pucks.” The Lady turned away.
Finn glared after them. “Stupid Lady and your stupid human-man.”
“Just ignore him,” the Lady said.
Owen looked at Finn, as if he had some human power to see straight into the truth. It made Finn feel strange. “I think there’s more to him than tricks, Laury, but okay,” Owen said finally. Then he stopped the Lady with a hand on her arm. “But I’m still worried. What about this: Will you at least wear the glamorie until after the baby is born? That would protect you, just in case the Mór really is plotting something.”
The Lady was already shaking her head. “No,” she said firmly. “You know how I hate the glamorie. I will not give birth to my daughter while wearing that false thing.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Be gone from here, Puck. Try your tricks and trouble somewhere else.” She gave a wave of her hand and the last lantern went dark.
Finn skulked into the midnight forest. The Lady could order him to leave all she liked, but he was a puck and her orders had no power over him. Trouble was coming—not puck trouble, something worse—and he wasn’t going anywhere until he found out the ending of this story.
He found a place under a
Finn ran into the clearing and spat out his shifter-tooth, catching it in his hand.
The human-Owen dropped the blanket and stepped half in front of the Lady. “What is that ?”
The Lady stepped up beside him. “He’s a puck, Owen,” she answered. “Tricksy, not to be trusted. Or so I’ve heard.” She rested a protecting hand on her round belly and asked Finn, “What are you doing here, Puck?”
“It’s well you should ask, Lady,” Finn answered. Carefully he stowed his shifter-tooth in the little leather bag he kept on a string around his neck. “I’ve been here before, as happens, and I don’t think you have any cause to complain of me, even though I am a puck as you’ve noted and I could’ve brought you any amount of trouble, if I’d wanted to.”
“Mm,” the Lady said. “That is so. Though my people have complained to me of a puck-chatterer who likes to trap them and tell long stories they don’t understand about people they’ve never met.”
“I haven’t done them any harm,” Finn protested. “And I tell a good story.”
“Answer the Lady’s question,” the human-Owen growled. “What are you doing here?”
“I am here talking to you, Human-man,” Finn continued, “because you were right, what you said before, and—”
“You’ve been spying on us?” Owen interrupted.
“So what if I have?” Finn shot back. “I am here , as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by this human-person, that this unmannerly human is right, Lady, and the Mór, your Huntress, is plotting against you.”
“Do you see, Laury?” the Owen-human put in. “It’s what I told you. Even he can see it.” He pointed at Finn. “Something is wrong here.”
“All you have is a feeling about it, Owen,” the Lady said, shaking her head. “What about you, Puck?” she demanded. “What proof of this do you have?”
“I heard her say it,” Finn answered promptly.
“Laurelin . . . ,” Owen began.
The Lady was shaking her head. “He’s a puck, Owen. That means by nature he is a trickster and will say anything to stir up trouble. That is what he is doing now: trying to sow discord between me and my most trusted ally.”
Owen frowned.
“Here, I’ll show you.” She nodded at Finn. “Puck. What is your name?” In a lower voice, she spoke to Owen. “Watch, he’ll lie about it.”
Finn scowled. His name was Finn, but no puck would ever tell his true name to a Lady. “Robin,” he answered sullenly.
“Did I not tell you?” the Lady said to the human-Owen.
The human blinked, confused. “Is his name not Robin?”
“No. It’s the name all pucks use with anyone who is not a puck. They’re all Robin. It’s just another one of their tricks. It’s best not to listen to pucks.” The Lady turned away.
Finn glared after them. “Stupid Lady and your stupid human-man.”
“Just ignore him,” the Lady said.
Owen looked at Finn, as if he had some human power to see straight into the truth. It made Finn feel strange. “I think there’s more to him than tricks, Laury, but okay,” Owen said finally. Then he stopped the Lady with a hand on her arm. “But I’m still worried. What about this: Will you at least wear the glamorie until after the baby is born? That would protect you, just in case the Mór really is plotting something.”
The Lady was already shaking her head. “No,” she said firmly. “You know how I hate the glamorie. I will not give birth to my daughter while wearing that false thing.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Be gone from here, Puck. Try your tricks and trouble somewhere else.” She gave a wave of her hand and the last lantern went dark.
Finn skulked into the midnight forest. The Lady could order him to leave all she liked, but he was a puck and her orders had no power over him. Trouble was coming—not puck trouble, something worse—and he wasn’t going anywhere until he found out the ending of this story.
He found a place under a
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