Maythorn's Wish (The Fey Quartet Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

“It’s me!”
    Dogs and daughters were equally confused. They all crowded into the little cottage, and Maythorn told her tale. “And each of you shall choose a wish, too. On your birthdays.” She hugged Ivy to her, laughing and crying at the same time. “Ivy, my precious Ivy. I wanted you to have your wish today, I wanted you to walk again.”
    “It’s all right, Mother,” Ivy said, and her grave green eyes looked merry. “I haven’t long to wait. It’s only six weeks.”
    “You look so different,” Larkspur said wonderingly. “Your face! And your hair is the color of sunshine.”
    “How old are you?” Hazel wanted to know.
    “Twenty-six.”
    “Well, I can’t call you Mother,” Hazel said forthrightly. “You’re only a few years older than me!” And then: “What are we going to tell everyone?”
    The four women looked at each other. “I’m your cousin,” Maythorn said. “Come unexpectedly from York.”
    “What do we call you?” Ivy asked.
    “Maythorn.”
    Hazel frowned. “But—”
    “We shall say I was named for my aunt, whom I greatly resemble.”
    Hazel’s frown didn’t ease. “Whom you exactly resemble! Won’t people remember?”
    “It’s been a long time.” Maythorn touched her nose, her cheekbone. Twenty-one years broken, and now they are whole again . “I don’t look much like the crippled Widow Miller, do I?”
    Ivy shook her head. “You look nothing like her. It’s . . . I’d swear the shape of your face has changed.”
    “But where shall you be, Mother?” Larkspur asked. “How do we explain your absence?”
    “I am gone to visit my brother in York. A sudden journey.”
    “From which you will never return.” The merriness was gone from Ivy’s eyes; they were grave again.
    “Can we not tell the truth?” Larkspur asked, hesitantly. “I don’t like to lie.”
    “None of us do,” Hazel said, her voice blunt and matter-of-fact. “But I think Maythorn’s right. The truth is best avoided. Who knows what the consequences would be? Folk may turn from her or wish her ill.”
    “Wish her ill?” Larkspur cried, wide-eyed. “Why?”
    “Because they’re jealous of her good fortune.”
    “Mother’s been crippled half a lifetime! How is that good fortune?”
    “It’s not,” Ivy said. “But jealousy isn’t a rational emotion.”
    “Or the Lord Warder may be angry at her and cast her from the vale,” Hazel continued inexorably.
    “Dappleward wouldn’t do that, would he?” Larkspur said, her eyes growing even wider with alarm. “Mother had to find the border. How else was she to give the babe back?”
    Ivy looked thoughtful. “It’s true he may be angry. Not about the baby, but about the Faerie wishes.”
    “Or people may try to do what Mother has done, hunt out the Fey and strike a bargain for their heart’s desire.”
    “Only a fool would try that!” Larkspur protested. “It’s too dangerous!”
    “The vale has its fools,” Ivy said.
    “Fools aplenty!” Hazel said. “And they will look at Widow Miller and want what she ha s— ”
    “Girls,” Maythorn said firmly. “Enough.”
    Her daughters fell silent.
    “You have made your point, Hazel.” Maythorn sighed, her joy dwindling. “I’m sorry, my loves, but I must ask you to lie for me.”
    Ivy took her hand. “The lie will harm no one, Mother . . . Maythorn. I shall be glad to call you cousin.”
    “And I,” Larkspur said sturdily.
    “When shall you show yourself?” Hazel asked. “Not today! Ren saw you this morning.”
    “Tomorrow. Late tomorrow,” Maythorn said. “That gives Widow Miller time to be gone from the vale.”
    “Gavain’s coming for his lesson tomorrow afternoon,” Ivy said. “Should we beg off?”
    They all looked at each other.
    “ We could teach Gavain his letters,” Larkspur said tentatively.
    “Of course we could!” Hazel said.
    “What think you, Mother?” Ivy asked. “’Tis your decision.”
    Maythorn thought of young Gavain, with his