Wystwood

90. Bells in the branches

At sunrise, they approached a pair of polished courtyard gates. Ada recognised the grey buildings and enclosed gardens and realised that they must only be a short walk from the Hound's barracks, though Raeph had chosen a path that didn't stray too closely. The courtyard was bare but orderly, aside from the lock on the gate which had been inelegantly smashed. In the midst of the Stone Circle's attack, Ada doubted a Hound would've taken the time to fumble for their keys.

In the centre of the courtyard grew an apple tree, its branches weighed down with apples that were far too large and pink for the otherwise ruined city. Small white flowers grew around their stems so thickly that it looked like the fruits could float rather than fall from the tree. Ada's stomach grumbled at the sweet scent the apples gave the air and hoped it wasn't too early to have breakfast.

"The General made no secret about him living here," Raeph said as he peered into the courtyard. "Though which was his residence I can only guess."

As he spoke, a long pair of windows swung open on the building opposite, sending up a flurry of apple blossoms as they grazed the uppermost tree branches. Gauzy curtains fluttered out into the morning light and with them came the clamouring of the bells which had been roughly hung from their railing. A slender hand reached out to pluck apples from the tree and a braid of hair as silver as the bells framed a delicate face.

"Diane!" Ada called, raising the hand that wasn't clasped in Raeph's. His fingers had found hers long before sunrise and hadn't let go since.

Diane flinched, several of the apples bouncing off the window sill to split upon the cobblestones. Ada immediately regretted her thoughtlessness as the morning sun hit the dark shadows beneath the fae's eyes. She wondered if Diane had managed to get even an hour's sleep in the house her husband had occupied only nights before.

But then Diane saw them from between the branches and her smile cast the shadows from her face. In minutes, she was welcoming them into the courtyard and up the plush stairwell to her home. The building went far further back than Ada had realised, and even two floors up, Diane's rooms were more numerous than those at the Bonneville.

"The others are all still asleep," Diane said as she walked them toward the kitchen. Gold-gilded mirrors reflected their faces in each room, the walls otherwise bearing oil paintings or cases lined with leather-bound books. In one corner stood a golden harp, dusty apart from its flaxen strings. The high ceilings were likewise skirted with golden moulding, which shone in the light streaming through the wide windows. "You're welcome to join them if you would like? But I'm going to make a start on breakfast."

"Breakfast sounds perfect." Ada tried not to stare through every doorway they passed, but it was like walking into a palace. She couldn't imagine a Hound having lived here, but remembering the loose silver bells and Diane's sleepless eyes, she had an idea about how the woman had spent her night.

The kitchen opened up onto an entirely different array of riches and Ada's mouth watered at the sight of warm bread, flaking pastries, and bowl upon bowl of berries and grains. Raeph picked up a custard and blueberry tart as Diane fetched them a pitcher of orange juice and set a kettle on the stove.

"If you stayed, I could make you a breakfast like this every morning," Raeph murmured to Ada as the kettle began to whistle.

"Is baking another one of your innumerable talents?" she teased.

"I could learn," he replied and pressed a sticky kiss to her knuckles.

Ada smothered her laughter on a buttered crumpet. "My mother once taught me to bake the perfect victoria sponge."

"Whilst I haven't the faintest notion of what that may be, it is now one of my dearest wishes to taste it."

Diane returned from the stove balancing a teapot and a precarious stack of porcelain cups. Another door—which Ada had first thought to be the pantry—opened on to a little dining room with a clothed table and wicker chairs. More gauzy curtains and silver bells danced in the sunshine as Diane opened the windows and fetched her feast from the kitchen.