It’s #BookQW and Cor is ‘close’ but caught!
More from Chapter 1:
Cor hit a path and kept to certain slates that weren’t warded. The trees became smaller and more ornamental closer to the manor house. A few lights lit the inside, but the conservatory to the side was dark, as were the windows of the old cook’s cottage, both the main floor and his aunt’s bedroom window upstairs.
“Nice evening for a walk,” said a deep voice.
Cor stumbled. A frantic flap of wings lifted him, and at the last second, he landed on the wrong stone—
Lights flared to life, freezing him like a deer.
Beyond them, in the dark, someone sighed. “My mistake,” the man said. “Cancel the alert.”
“Got it, Master Harold,” came the guard’s voice over the radio.
The lights cut off, but their damage was done; Cor was now night blind. And caught, blast it! In his personal scoring system, he had to make it to his room across from Aunt Syl’s or the success of sneaking out and in again wasn’t credited. He blinked and raked up the curls over his head, checking they weren’t flattened or had stuck leaves to reveal his activities.
“And a nice night for riding, I suppose,” Master Harold added with an amber-lit gesture to Cor’s board.
“True,” he agreed warily. The head gardener had hired him to water in the greenhouses and garden beds. For someone so old, Harold kept terrible hours.
“Have something for you, if you have a minute.” Master Harold pivoted through the open conservatory door, casting a dim light around his large frame. His bald head glinted like richly polished chestnuts, and he wore his usual evening attire, a monklike robe that he said was most comfortable after a day of dirty work in the gardens and greenhouse. Master Harold wasn’t frowning, or even remotely angry, but his full cheeks were lifted in an annoying, knowing smile within his neat, sycamore-bark-silver beard.
Cor sucked his teeth, a sound the old man had told him came across as bad as back talk and recommended he not do it. Cor couldn’t seem to break the habit. “I do,” he said quickly to try to smooth things over—Master Harold hadn’t reported him—and picked his way across the path on the correct stones.
“Still would like to know how you learned so quickly which to use,” Master Harold said.
Cor doubted the truth would be accepted—the tree roots had shown him. Harold preferred the botanical rather than the magical side of plant growth, ironically, since the Gruen Foundation focused on increasing tree energy. Instead, Cor dug a handful of beechnuts from his pocket that he’d scavenged from the leaf litter. “More to start tomorrow. Copper beech.”
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Will Cor get access to the closed island? Seize adventure with Cor and Fern! Buy Guardian of the Pines in ebook or paperback.
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