The Kindly One

II. A Little Bit of Knowledge

"Stop yer squirmin'," Maebh ordered sternly. Her rheumy eyes were like gimlets when she glared at the fidgeting Iona, who was currently having her dress altered to fit her perfectly. If it had been the old woman pinning the cloth and generally posing her like a doll, the half-elf probably would have been more relaxed. However, Maebh's hands had long ago become so arthritic that they were more like claws, their dexterity severely limited. Her eyesight was fading to blindness too, so stitching was out of the question. She had seen eighty-two summers now, her survival a testament to her healing knowledge and force of will. "Gods, gel, there's hummingbirds with less fuss."

Iona took a deep breath and nodded, straightening up and going mostly still. "I just...I don't want to go."

"Hush ye," the old woman said from the armchair where she was presiding over the seamstresses and maids like some august queen in a bustling royal court. She frowned at one of the seamstresses. "A touch more, gel. Aught won't hang right if ye do that." Then she focused back on Iona. "Don't be frettin'. Yer brother don't get to celebrate gettin' engaged every day an' suren he wants ye there."

"Bringing the number of people who want me there up to a grand total of one." The half-elf did her best to keep her expression placid when she said it. The words were a touch bitter, but more resigned than anything else.

"An' yer father an' yer mother an' me," Maebh said. She may have hated the King and Iona's mother with a fiery passion, but she had never let it impact her affection for the girl. She'd raised the half-elf, which made her as good as kin to Maebh. "Have a good time, gel. Oh, and yer brother said happy birthday. He brought summat by for ye."

Iona whipped around, much to the squawking chagrin of the women working on her clothing. "What?" she asked, a hint of excitement in her tone.

Maebh made a sharp sound of disapproval. "Ye can have it when ye start behavin'."

The half-elf sighed and went back to how she'd been standing before. She had a reason now to grin and bear it. It took quite a while, but eventually her torment ended. It went faster now that she was purposefully holding still. The moment they released her, she darted over to Maebh, who picked up a small wooden box from the table. "What is it?" Iona asked curiously.

The old woman huffed. "Ain't my gift, gel. Open it and see yerself," she said, passing the box over carefully.

Iona opened it. Inside the box on soft white cambric was a tear-drop shaped pendant of what looked like green stone with delicate swirls of silver wire around it. It was engraved and inlaid with silver in the form of writing that she recognized, but couldn't read: Elven. "What kind of stone is this?" she asked softly, marveling at it as she lifted it out.

Maebh scrutinized it for a moment. "It ain't," she said definitively, lips quirking into a smile. "That's a polished piece o' dragonscale, my sunbeam gel. From a big 'un cut down, I reckon. Ooh, he's a demon-smart lad."

A dragon, the symbol of the House of Mór. Her brother's little gift was a reminder of who he saw when he looked at her: his sister, a child of their father's house. Iona sat down on the chair next to Maebh, covering her face with one hand so she didn't immediately cry. It had never been a more welcome sentiment, particularly coming on the heels of her confrontation with Lynette. The half-elf was always a little bit afraid that if it ever came down to a choice between the two of them, he would toss her away. Being reminded that he loved her too was a balm for even the worst sting. She gently put the pendant back in the box. She didn't want to accidentally damage it.

"If I'd known it was going to break your poor heart, sprite—" Devyn started to say from the doorway.

Iona almost tackled him, wrapping her arms around her brother and squeezing tightly. He was a tall man, but he wasn't nearly as powerfully built as their father, so she almost knocked him over backwards. "Devyn!"