"Who told you about me?" Morgana gave Briar a shrewd look.
"Vauxhall." Aelys frowned. "That name sounds familiar."
"I think it would be best if you both come inside. Then I can explain." Briar stepped aside and held the door open.
Morgana and Aelys entered the cottage, and the floating candle lit various lanterns throughout the room. The cottage smelled faintly of potpourri thanks to a Goddess shrine in the corner of the room that was decorated with dried roses, geraniums, and pansies.
Briar gestured for them to sit at a small table that was old and weathered like driftwood. "I'll make some tea," she said, then left the room.
But Morgana and Aelys didn't sit.
"Hang on to your knife," Aelys whispered, and Morgana nodded.
They eyed the room, and the creaky floorboards where a draft seeped through. Crowded cupboards full of crockery and herbs lined the walls. Morgana passed a bundle of dried lavender and rosemary on a small table. There was a beautiful, half finished, crimson dress with a basket of sewing supplies on a battered reading chair.
"Are you a seamstress?" Morgana called out.
Aelys whirled. Don't make conversation, she mouthed.
Morgana shook her head, figuring they needed to appear friendly, so that things wouldn't head south.
"Not quite. I work at a bakery in the village. It doesn't pay much so I make my own dresses." Footsteps and the sound of crockery being placed on a tray echoed from the kitchen.
Morgana shifted uncomfortably. She'd never known what it was like to be poor enough to make her own dresses.
Aelys kept pacing and muttering the word Vauxhall to herself like a strange mantra.
Briar entered the room, carrying a tray with a teapot, three chipped cups, and a small plate of biscuits. Morgana nudged Aelys and they went back to the table as Briar poured the rich tea. Bergamot scented the air.
"Thank you," Morgana said.
"You're welcome," Briar replied.
Aelys gasped. "That's it! I know who you are now."
Briar gave Aelys an assessing look. "You may have heard of my brother, Your Highness."
Aelys turned to Morgana. "She's Theodore Vauxhall's sister."
Morgana frowned, puzzled. Where had she heard that name before? And then it hit her. She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Theodore was that serial killer, the one who killed all those faeries on Earl Xanther's property."
Aelys shot Briar a frightened look, then grabbed Morgana's arm. "Let's go. We shouldn't be here." She dragged Morgana out of her chair and marched towards the front door.
"My brother was innocent!" Briar followed them. "The earl framed him. But you didn't come here for that, did you? You're here because a mysterious voice gave you my address, right?"
Aelys and Morgana froze.
"What do you know about this voice?" Morgana took her arm out of Aelys's grip.
"It belongs to a powerful grimoire."
Aelys snorted. "Liar. All the witches' grimoires were burned."
"Not all of them," Briar said.
"Wait." Morgana frowned. "Who owned this grimoire?"
"It was owned by Ingrid, the Maiden Coven's second-in-command."
YOU ARE READING
The Last Daughter of Elysia
FantasyBOOK ONE IN THE ELYSIAN TRILOGY A stolen grimoire. A court of lies and secrets. A dangerous game of betrayal. Seventeen-year-old Morgana lives in Golah Court, one of the two fae courts in the magical and dangerous land of Elysia. Adopted by Golah...