ladies—though my heart will pine for you, Cag—ow.” Dooley moved too slowly, so Cagney was able to smack his shoulder with her fan.
“Idiot,” Cagney muttered as the tall nobleman moved off. “A cow has more sense.”
He’s funny , Dylan wrote.
“Do not tell him you think so—I beg of you! It will encourage him,” Cagney said, twisting her lace fan.
As you wish. Is there any food out, or do we have to wait until dinner?
Cagney read Dylan’s question before she shook her head. “There are some refreshments already available. This way, I believe.”
Dylan followed Cagney to a table of food. The snacks were not as plentiful as they had been the previous night, but Dylan was happy to have any at all. She had just taken a little plate and put a sampling of a few sausages on it, when someone said her name.
“Miss Dylan, is it? Not even any parents to cite—how pitiable.”
Dylan turned around to face Lady Kellah, the woman Jarlath had greeted—apparently it hadn’t turned out quite how he was hoping—and several other ladies.
Cagney shifted uneasily and looked back and forth between Dylan and Lady Kellah.
Dylan knew she was being baited, but the sausage was more interesting. She took a bite. What is this? Pork? Is there such a thing as chicken sausage?
“She looks pitiable,” one of the other ladies said, flicking a fan open. “Did you buy a peasant girl’s best dress?”
“Lady Darra, that’s unkind,” another said. “I imagine it would be most difficult to find enough cloth to fit such a tall, not to mention muscular frame.”
No, not pork. It tastes funny . Dylan thought. She saw a tray of honey glazed rolls. She picked one up, put it on a plate, and handed it to Cagney.
Cagney blinked but accepted the plate.
“And you cannot talk? Is that out of sheer horror, or is it a ploy to get attention?” Lady Kellah asked.
My, my. These girls lack imagination. Dylan ate another piece of sausage. What are they trying to accomplish? Are their minds so small they believe there is merit in being known as a harpy?
“Excuse me, Lady Kellah, but don’t you have better ways to spend your time?” Cagney asked.
Lady Kellah laughed. “You’re trying to defend her? Oh, Cagney, I would have thought you learned your lesson by now. Just because you hover in Lord Dooley’s shadow doesn’t make you one of us.”
“No matter how long you cling to the young lord, his wealth and power will not rub off on you, commoner,” another lady spat.
“Everyone knows you’re his assistant because his parents pity you,” Lady Darra said.
Dylan stopped eating when she realized Cagney was shrinking in her spot. The young, confident girl took a step back under the verbal onslaught, her chin dipping.
Their words hurt her , Dylan realized.
“And when Lord Dooley settles down with a proper lady, you’ll be pushed to the back—forced to mind a market stall in a backwater city for the White Sands Trading Company. Just like your parents,” Lady Kellah said. “You—yeeek!” she shrieked when Dylan wiped her fingers coated in sausage oils on her dress.
Dylan waited until the enraged lady looked up at her before mouthing “oops” and covering her lips with a hand.
“You clumsy oaf!” Lady Kellah shouted. “Look what you did to my dress!”
Dylan batted her eyelashes at the lady before gesturing wide. Everyone in the area had stopped speaking and dancing to stare at the group.
Lady Kellah’s face burned red with shame and humiliation.
Dylan smiled and made a shooing motion.
Lady Kellah gripped her skirts. “Your thuggish attack proves my point—you are a brute.” She turned on her heels and marched off.
“Why did you do that?” Cagney asked.
Because they remind me of seagulls, and I didn’t want them flapping around us all night. That would significantly raise our chances of getting pooped on , Dylan wrote.
“ Dylan ,” Cagney hissed.
You wanted to know .
“They’re going to come after
“Idiot,” Cagney muttered as the tall nobleman moved off. “A cow has more sense.”
He’s funny , Dylan wrote.
“Do not tell him you think so—I beg of you! It will encourage him,” Cagney said, twisting her lace fan.
As you wish. Is there any food out, or do we have to wait until dinner?
Cagney read Dylan’s question before she shook her head. “There are some refreshments already available. This way, I believe.”
Dylan followed Cagney to a table of food. The snacks were not as plentiful as they had been the previous night, but Dylan was happy to have any at all. She had just taken a little plate and put a sampling of a few sausages on it, when someone said her name.
“Miss Dylan, is it? Not even any parents to cite—how pitiable.”
Dylan turned around to face Lady Kellah, the woman Jarlath had greeted—apparently it hadn’t turned out quite how he was hoping—and several other ladies.
Cagney shifted uneasily and looked back and forth between Dylan and Lady Kellah.
Dylan knew she was being baited, but the sausage was more interesting. She took a bite. What is this? Pork? Is there such a thing as chicken sausage?
“She looks pitiable,” one of the other ladies said, flicking a fan open. “Did you buy a peasant girl’s best dress?”
“Lady Darra, that’s unkind,” another said. “I imagine it would be most difficult to find enough cloth to fit such a tall, not to mention muscular frame.”
No, not pork. It tastes funny . Dylan thought. She saw a tray of honey glazed rolls. She picked one up, put it on a plate, and handed it to Cagney.
Cagney blinked but accepted the plate.
“And you cannot talk? Is that out of sheer horror, or is it a ploy to get attention?” Lady Kellah asked.
My, my. These girls lack imagination. Dylan ate another piece of sausage. What are they trying to accomplish? Are their minds so small they believe there is merit in being known as a harpy?
“Excuse me, Lady Kellah, but don’t you have better ways to spend your time?” Cagney asked.
Lady Kellah laughed. “You’re trying to defend her? Oh, Cagney, I would have thought you learned your lesson by now. Just because you hover in Lord Dooley’s shadow doesn’t make you one of us.”
“No matter how long you cling to the young lord, his wealth and power will not rub off on you, commoner,” another lady spat.
“Everyone knows you’re his assistant because his parents pity you,” Lady Darra said.
Dylan stopped eating when she realized Cagney was shrinking in her spot. The young, confident girl took a step back under the verbal onslaught, her chin dipping.
Their words hurt her , Dylan realized.
“And when Lord Dooley settles down with a proper lady, you’ll be pushed to the back—forced to mind a market stall in a backwater city for the White Sands Trading Company. Just like your parents,” Lady Kellah said. “You—yeeek!” she shrieked when Dylan wiped her fingers coated in sausage oils on her dress.
Dylan waited until the enraged lady looked up at her before mouthing “oops” and covering her lips with a hand.
“You clumsy oaf!” Lady Kellah shouted. “Look what you did to my dress!”
Dylan batted her eyelashes at the lady before gesturing wide. Everyone in the area had stopped speaking and dancing to stare at the group.
Lady Kellah’s face burned red with shame and humiliation.
Dylan smiled and made a shooing motion.
Lady Kellah gripped her skirts. “Your thuggish attack proves my point—you are a brute.” She turned on her heels and marched off.
“Why did you do that?” Cagney asked.
Because they remind me of seagulls, and I didn’t want them flapping around us all night. That would significantly raise our chances of getting pooped on , Dylan wrote.
“ Dylan ,” Cagney hissed.
You wanted to know .
“They’re going to come after
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