The Legend Read Free Page A

happen if he betroths
me to Colin Warrington. I shall kill the beast before I shall allow a marriage
to take place."
    Ivy thought a moment.
"Mayhap the union would to ease the feud. After all, the Warringtons and
the de Fluornoys have been fighting for decades, and...."
    Peyton put up a hand. "Say
no more. I will not even hear of the possibility. Now go order me a round of
slop, sister."
    Ivy cocked a slow eyebrow.
"Slop, did you say? That, darling Peyton, can be arranged."
    Peyton waved her sister on with a
grin. Outside, the sun was setting over the golden-pale fields of grain that
kept St. Cloven firmly established in her trade as the sisters made their way
to the manor.
    Dinner was an unexpectedly
flavorful affair and Peyton enjoyed the rewards of her sister's uncanny sense
of table with nary a greasy dish in sight. Fowl, boiled vegetables and a pale
yellow ale graced the table. And, to match the yellow ale, Ivy had instructed
the cook to die everything saffron yellow. So Peyton ate yellow meat, yellow
vegetables, and only half of her bright yellow custard. In truth, she was
stuffed full from the main courses and sat back in her chair, sipping her ale
with satisfaction.
    Across the table sat Ivy, eating
everything in sight. She was a large girl, round and curvaceous with a tendency
for fat. Fortunately, she fatted in all of the right places and drew many a
man's stare with her buxom profile and generous hips. Formed like their
father's side of the family, she was in sharp divergence to Peyton's slender
beauty.
    Although Peyton was no fragile,
delicate hybrid; average in stature and height, she was inordinately strong for
a female. But her graceful limbs and creamy skin gave her a soft, dainty
appearance, and her beauty was absolutely unequaled. James always told her that
she reminded him of a porcelain doll, perfect and sculpted in every way.  
    She and Ivy were very different
in appearance, but not in personality. Their father used to call them magpies,
for they chattered incessantly. And fought like the Lucifer and Gabriel when
the mood hit them.
    Aye, they missed their father
terribly. For a man who had been hardy and robust all of his life, his death
from a heart attack six months prior had come as a deep shock. After their
mother had died when the girls were very young, Albert de Fluornoy had coddled
and spoiled his children. He had been their only family with exception of the
creature currently seated at the far end of the table.
    Jubil de Fluornoy was an enigma
of sorts. A self-proclaimed witch, she was a peculiar woman with even more
peculiar habits. Bizarre did not quite encompass the exact description of Aunt
Jubil; in fact, Peyton had yet to come up with the exact terms to describe her
father's younger sister. Weird certainly seemed appropriate most of the time
and Peyton and Ivy spent a good deal of time ignoring their only living
relation.
    "There's a cock's foot in
here," Jubil hissed, picking at her trencher.
    Ivy glanced at Peyton. "Aye,
there is, Jubil, just for you," she replied sarcastically.
    "A big bloody one!"
Jubil suddenly declared, although neither girl could see what she was talking
about. "It's preparing to fly away!"
    Peyton rolled her eyes irritably.
Her aunt was known to ingest concoctions distilled from native plants and roots
to aid her in her 'visions'. Sometimes it took days for the potions to wear
off, leaving Jubil insane for that particular length in time.
    "Jubil, there's no cock's
foot in your dish," she said with little patience. "If you are
finished with your meal, then you are excused."
    Jubil began to shovel clumps of
food all over the table in her attempt to single out the elusive cock's foot.
Peyton ducked as a piece of roast fowl flew particularly close.
    "Cock's foot! Cock's
foot!" Jubil cried, jamming her fingers into her trencher and withdrawing
an object pinched between her index finger and thumb. Her eyes were wild as she
scrutinized whatever it was. "An eyeball! I knew