Buried Deep and Other Stories by Naomi Novik

Author:Naomi Novik [Novik, Naomi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Worlds
Published: 2024-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

“No, thank you,” Magda said, graciously, and tuned out the formalities as the very relieved duke’s son looked up—the first time he’d actually looked her in the face—and begged her to reconsider.

A doubled gift made all the others lean towards it; she couldn’t have any of the ugliness of ill health, only the ugliness of brute strength. That was the only thing anyone saw when they looked at her, that she could pick them up and break them in half like giants did when mounted knights got too close, shelling them like lobsters. None of her features were ugly enough to stand out, none were nice to look at, and all together they made a bad painting without enough colors. But the proposals came anyway: she was destined to be rich and powerful, and she had six fairy godmothers looking after her interests.

She repeated her refusal, he gratefully promised not to trouble her any longer, and took himself away in a hurry. She had been left alone in the garden with him; as soon as he left, she tossed the embroidery hoop aside onto the bench and went to the back wall. She’d left her old bow and spare quiver there, tucked at the base behind a shrub. She slung them on, then jumped for the top, caught it easily and pulled herself easily over, and was free from her chaperone for the rest of the afternoon, which was the reason she’d agreed to entertain the proposal in the first place. She felt a little sorry for having alarmed the duke’s son, who’d been decently polite about his courting, but at least she hadn’t made him worry for long, and her mother would have made a fuss, otherwise.

She didn’t risk her freedom by going to the stables for a horse. She jumped the moat behind the garden wall and jogged along the dusty track up into the Blackstrap Mountains on foot instead. It was a nice autumn afternoon, and only seven miles or so. It had been almost a year since the last time she’d managed to escape—her mother had kept closer reins on her since her sixteenth birthday—but she still knew the way. She stopped in the orchards to pick a good apple for herself to munch, and a few wormy and wizened ones to tuck into her good skirt, which she’d already tied up around her waist.

“I brought you some spoiled apples, Godmama,” she said, poking into the mountain cave. “Withered and worm-eaten on the branch.”

The shadowed fairy grunted in approval from the depths of the cave where she was stirring something noxious. “Put them on the bench there. What have you been doing with yourself all this time?”

“Courting,” Magda said, succinctly, folding herself down onto the floor so she wouldn’t knock her head on the roof of the cave.

“Courting, eh? Well?”

“I sent one away today,” Magda said. “I don’t remember his name. The Duke of Edgebarren’s oldest son.”

“Oh, a duke,” the fairy said dismissively. “Don’t you bother with a duke.

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