The Assassin Princess (Lamb & Castle Book 2) by J.M. Sanford

Author:J.M. Sanford [Sanford, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-09-18T22:00:00+00:00

“Oh, he generally does as I tell him,” said Amelia breezily. She was a little worried she might lose sight of him in the dark, though, as the green crackles of his ersatz fur faded further into the distance. “Stupid! Make yourself useful: can't you light the way?” Up the black smoke went, pulling itself into a ball of fiercely turquoise flame that bobbed companionably around Amelia. “What are you doing here, though? I thought I left you with Meg.” A thought struck her. “Does that mean she's here?” She hardly dared hope, but was still sorely disappointed when the fire sprite swayed and shuddered in a gesture she knew meant 'no'. “Is she all right? And Harold, and Percival?”

The fireball bounced up and down encouragingly. Yes, as far as he knew. Amelia left it at that. You could spend all day asking Stupid 'yes' and 'no' questions, but beyond that, even she couldn't draw much of an explanation from her mute companion. Judging by the way his glow shaded gradually towards emerald green, he at least felt everything must be well in the world.

As Bessie and Amelia continued to roam the corridors, which were just as twisting and nonsensical as the streets above, Amelia was distracted from their search for an exit by the enticing smell of kippers coming from somewhere close by. Bessie hurried on, but Amelia, who had not only missed breakfast, but missed it much more than Bessie seemed to, ducked down a side corridor in search of the source. If there were kitchens, perhaps she could steal some bread and cheese, if nothing else. She soon found a door left half open, with kippery steam issuing forth. In the small kitchen beyond, a woman hummed a cheerful ditty over a hot frying pan. Her hair, bright as turmeric, was tied up in a messy bun, and her dress, a colourful patchwork of offcuts, sparkled with coins and glass beads. Here was someone who belonged to neither the dismal dungeon, nor the grand palace upstairs…

“Oh, hello, poppet!” said the woman, spotting Amelia. “Would you like a kipper or two?”

Amelia didn't know what to say. She really shouldn't have let anybody see her roaming the corridors, but her own fairy tale logic dictated that this smiling round-cheeked cook might well be the one person in Ilgrevnia she could trust. And she was so very hungry… “Yes please,” she said. Stupid kept close to her, flickering green as grass in sunshine.

The cook looked momentarily taken aback at the sight of the disembodied flame, but seemed to recognise what he was. “Well, aren't you a handsome fellow?” she said.

Stupid bobbed, burning brighter with pride, quite at ease with the cheery red-haired woman, and Amelia took that as confirmation of her own judgement.

“Amelia, what are you doing?” Bessie asked in exasperation, having come back looking for her fellow escapee.

“She's just having some breakfast,” said the cook. “Would you like some too, lovey? Oh! But just look at your coat! Let me fix that up for you – I've got needle and thread somewhere about the place.

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