The Drowned Tomb (The Changeling Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

muttered, as though testing the shape of the word in her mouth. “Hmm.”
    A tiny frown line appeared in her pale forehead. Even her eyelashes looked almost transparent. She seemed to be weighing him up.
    “Such a small boy … for the Scion of the Arcania.” She did not sound particularly impressed. Her voice was not much more than a murmur. “Such a humble vessel for such a force. A splintered force, granted … but nonetheless…” She blinked at him once or twice, trailing off. Robin had no idea what to say. He felt rather grubby from the heat, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. There were grass stains on the front of his t-shirt where he had been lying on his stomach in the rose garden. As far as first impressions go, he had to admit, this wasn’t the best he could have presented. He wished Aunt Irene had given him more notice, and he made a mental note to have stern words with Woad later when he got his hands on the little blue creature.
    “Like a storm hiding in a seashell … held to the ear … faint whispers…” the woman pondered aloud, speaking almost to herself. “Why hide your light under this child’s bushel, eldest? What crude camouflage is this?” She shrugged. “But mine is not to question why. Who, after all, can fathom the thoughts of the Fae? Minds like corkscrews, one and all.”
    She flicked her soft green eyes to Robin’s mana stone on its cord around his neck. “Seraphinite?” she said, her eyes widening slightly. “Spirit stone. And whose was this, and who’s will it be? How interesting your kind are.” She smiled for the first time at him, and Robin was surprised to find she looked quite friendly for a moment. It felt like the first time she was actually paying attention to him. “Hiding like nested dolls, one in another … in another. Your ways do … amuse.”
    Her eyes drifted from the mana stone, which Robin wasn’t quite sure how she had seen, hidden as it was under his t-shirt, and her smile became slightly lopsided.
    “I am Madame Calypso,” she said. “You … are extremely late .”
    Robin stammered. “I know … I’m sorry. I only just found out I was supposed to be here. My friend Woad was supposed to tell me, that is, my aunt gave him a message but—”
    “Hush,” she said, rather matter-of-factly. “I’m bored already.”
    Robin hushed.
    “We shall start again,” she said. “And take things from there. I am Madame Calypso. I am no more human that you are, little Fae, and I am here because I owe your guardian a debt. The Lady Irene recently assisted me in … leaving my last engagement. She has contacted me to request my assistance in the matter of your … education.”
    “Aunt Irene said you were going to be my new tutor. Is that right?” Robin asked.
    Madame Calypso nodded drowsily. “Apparently. I have never tutored before, so we will have to see how that goes, I suppose. I am Panthea,” she said. “A Nymph. We are living in interesting times, Scion of the Arcania. Time was, not too long ago, when I would have regarded your kind, the Fae, as a lower class of being. Many Panthea do. Like wild animals, good only for menial labour, or…” She looked thoughtful. “ … sport. But that was before I met your guardian. She opened my eyes to the truth. To the lies of Lady Eris.” She looked away from him for a moment. “The dark Empress of the Netherworlde has something of a talent for sowing discord between peoples. Especially between the Fae and the Panthea. When I think back now…” Her already misty eyes clouded further. “ … I am ashamed of what I once thought of your people.”
    She looked at Robin. “I owe your race an apology. All the Panthea do.” She glanced around the water and the trees. “But how does one apologise for genocide?” she said breezily. “I suppose this , agreeing to this position, aiding a known insurgent and wanted outlaw like your guardian, makes me one also. A traitor to the Netherworlde. A rebel. I