Iylaine shuffled down the corridor at Nothelm castle.

Iylaine shuffled down the corridor at Nothelm Keep. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

The Duke was busy in his study with the King, and didn’t want to see her. The Duchess was busy in the hall talking to Father Brandt, and didn’t want to see her. Little Gwynn wasn’t busy, but she was annoying. It was fun to be worshipped, for a while, but Iylaine had had enough of that for today.

She had already been to Gunnie’s house, but Gunnie and Wynn were too busy fussing over baby Gytha to pay any attention to her. Iylaine could not see what was so interesting about a tiny baby who was too young even to smile or turn her head—certainly not why Wynna would prefer to play with that little thing rather than her.

How she wished her Da were here! The Duke and the Duchess were too busy for her, and Gunnie and Alwy and Wynna were too busy with their new baby, and the boys were busy playing with each other, and she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere else by herself.

But her Da would have made time for her. He was a busy man too, but he always found time for her. There was nobody in the world that he loved better than her. Nobody loved her as much as he did. And just now she felt as if nobody else really loved her at all.

Then she realized that if the King was here, it meant Malcolm might be here too—Malcolm and the Prince. Perhaps Malcolm would want to play with her. He was her cousin, in a way. And anyway, if Malcolm was here, the boys would be sure to be doing something interesting. Malcolm always had the best ideas.

Now, she had only to find them.

It was some time later when she had the idea to look in the storeroom beneath the hall. She hated to go down there alone, because there were spider webs on the wall, and where there were spider webs, there were bound to be spiders. But she had checked everywhere else—and now she knew Malcolm was here, for his pony and the Prince’s were in the stable.

'There you boys are!'

“There you boys are!” she called as she came into the dusty room.

The boys were seated in a circle back in the corner. She was thankful to find that they had lit both a torch and a small lamp. At least she would see the spiders ahead of time.

“What do you want?” Malcolm asked.

'What do you want?'

“I want to play. Can I play?” she asked, trying to wedge herself into their circle.

Bertie scooted over to make a place for her, but Malcolm said, “Oh, no! This is a meeting for big boys only—not for little girls like you!”

“I’m not little!” she cried. “Yware and Caedwulf are littler than me!”

“Aye, granted, but you’re still a girl and we don’t need girls here! Goodbye!”

'Goodbye!'

“I think you’re very mean!”

“And I think you’re very ugly when you’re mad, Spiteface!”

“If we’re so mean,” Yware asked, “how come you want to play with us?”

“I don’t know, ’cause I’m bored. But I guess I don’t want to play your stupid boy games with a lot of stupid boys! What are you playing anyway?”

“We’re not playing, little lassie, we’re talking. Like adults.”

'We're not playing, little lassie.'

“What are you talking about then?”

“I don’t think it’s something you would like to talk about, Baby,” Dunstan said.

'I don't think it's something you would like to talk about, Baby.'

“How come? Maybe ’cause it’s stupid and you know that I don’t like to talk about stupid things?”

“Not likely,” Malcolm smirked. “There’s nothing girls like better. You think we want to talk about dresses and babies down here?”

“No, and I don’t either! And what else! I’m going to tell your Mama you’re down here, Dunstan and Yware. You know you aren’t supposed to be!”

'I'm going to tell your Mama you're down here.'

“Why? just to spite us, Spiteface?” Malcolm laughed.

“Stop calling me Spiteface!”

“But you’re making a spiteface, Spiteface.”

“Well, at least I don’t have yellow eyes!”

'Well, at least I don't have yellow eyes!'

“Well, at least I don’t have yellow hair!” Malcolm retorted.

“Well, at least I don’t have a big old ugly nose!”

“Well, well! if you didn’t just insult your own Da there, my fine Baby! Don’t forget he has the same! And if he were your real Da, you would have it too!”

'Don't forget he has the same!'

Iylaine clenched her fists and glowered at him. She didn’t like to be reminded that her Da was not really her Da. It didn’t mean he loved her less. “Well, at least my Da didn’t send me far away to live!”

“I should, if I were your Da, you ugly spitefaced brat!”

“That’s enough, you two,” Bertie grumbled.

“You just shut your stupid fat mouth you stupid Bertie!” Iylaine shrieked.

Caedwulf, who lay sprawled on the floor next to Malcolm, laughed out loud.

Caedwulf laughed out loud.

“And you shut up too you stupid runty Prince! And you’re fat, too, and you smell like—like—”

“Roses!” Malcolm cooed.

'Roses!'

Caedwulf giggled, and Yware laughed until he doubled over.

“I suppose your father doesn’t love you any more than mine does me, little lassie,” Malcolm said, his face growing surly again. “He just spends all his time away from you and sends you a-​begging from house to house like a one-​eyed mutt. My father wants to make something of me—that’s why I’m here. Your father just wants to get away from you, ’cause you’re an elf, and no one likes you.”

“That’s not true,” Bertie said. “Don’t say such things, Malcolm.”

'Don't say such things, Malcolm.'

“That’s just ’cause you’re in love with her, Bertie-​boy. Aren’t you?” Malcolm fluttered his dark lashes.

“I am not! I’m just saying.”

“And I’m just saying you’re in love with Baby.”

“He is not!” Iylaine sputtered.

“That’s a good thing,” Malcolm laughed. “‘Cause you know, you have to marry me when we get older, and that’s a fact. My father told me so.”

'You have to marry me when we get older.'

“No he never did!”

“He did so. In our family, Donald’s sons marry Duncan’s daughters. That’s the way it has to be. So you have to marry me, or marry my brother. And I believe I shall marry you myself. ‘Cause you’re sooooooo pretty when you make your spiteface, Spiteface! Come here and let me kiss it! Spiteface!”

“Oh, no I never will! I guess I would rather spit in your ugly old face than kiss it, that’s what!”

'I guess I would rather spit in your ugly old face than kiss it, that's what!'

“Then we’ll call Malcolm Spitface!” Yware laughed.

“Spitface and Spiteface up in a tree!” Caedwulf sang.

“Shut up, you little runt,” Malcolm said, rapping the Prince’s forehead with his knuckles.

“K-​I-​S-​S-​I-​N-​G!” Yware continued.

'K-I-S-S-I-N-G!'

“Oh, you too, toad!” Malcolm yelled. “Anyway, I don’t want my sons having pointed ears, do I? You can have her, and welcome, Bertie-​boy! Then your kids can have a pointed nose and pointed ears. Just like dogs!”

“There’s nothing wrong with my ears!” Iylaine said. “Alwy says they’re real pretty!”

“He thinks his mare is real pretty, too, but that doesn’t mean he wants to marry her! Get on you! Don’t worry, no one will ever want to marry you anyway, with your ugly old pointed ears. Now get on, elf! We men are busy here!”

Iylaine turned with a sob and ran for the door.

'Iylaine turned with a sob and ran for the door.'