Trinket (Reverse Harem)

Scribbly Scrawly Birdy Crawly

"The Lord-Raven sent this," Yanice said as Deliah set down an arrangement of seashells, delicate polished bits of driftwood, and intricately-woven seagrass. She also flicked a small piece of folded paper between two fingers. "And a note."

The arrangement was small. Had Soir made it himself? Probably not. But it did say bird all over it, with the little trinkets some clever Ravens had probably plucked from the beach at the bottom of Haven's cliffs. Maybe everyone who had gone to the party had gotten a little thank you for coming to my party gift.

Yanice offered me the note, lips pinched. I accepted it, flicked it open, pretended to read it, and tucked it into the pocket of my dress. I couldn't read more than a few letters, and Soir's handwriting was elegant and sweeping and I couldn't even tease out a single letter amid all the fancy lines.

I studied the arrangement again for any clues. Wouldn't have put it past the Lord-Raven to send me something I was supposed to spot something clever about, but he had to know I was an uneducated runt. He knew I was a Foundling.

I needed to find out what his note said.

Now if I could have trusted my maids, I'd have asked one of them to help me.

Deliah made off with the arrangement to place it somewhere, while I mulled over the problem of the note.

The gods were conspiring against me. The only people I could think to ask in this whole damn town were my consorts, or Maris, my demon-touched reading tutor, who had been scared off months ago and I had no idea how to actually find. And while I didn't like Maris knowing about my personal life, Maris did know I couldn't read, and he was scared of my consorts. And maybe I could rope him into continuing the lessons. I needed to be able to read.

But I could send Yanice looking for him. Bet that would offend her. But if I couldn't trust her to read my mail, she could go find someone who could.

"Yanice," I said.

She gave me a prim little, "Yes?"

"I need you to find a scholar for me. His name is Maris. He's demon-touched. He should be somewhere in Haven."

Her prim little smirk faltered. "You mean the scholar that the Lord-Ambassadors hired to tutor you?"

"Yes."

"Where will I find him?"

"I have no idea. That's why I told you to find him."

She didn't want to go chasing around Haven on a hot summer day on what might be a fool's errand. Her expression went from prim to pinched as she tried to come up with some saucy excuse for why that was a bad idea. But after about fifteen seconds she just bounced a bare courtesy to me. "Yes, m'lady. What shall I tell him?"

"That I wish to see him."

"For what purpose?"

"If he's going to ask this many questions, tell him I have no use for him."

"You cannot just summon a scholar."

"Of course I can."

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she set her jaw and bobbed in a fake little curtesy. "Of course, my Lady."

I busied myself with a bath and dealing with my hair and contemplating the scars on my back. I reached over my shoulder and touched the scars there. They felt different when I touched them. Maybe I was just thinking about them now.

No, they'd felt something when I'd been talking to Soir. That hadn't been my imagination.

I shoved my fingertips into them, hard.