Her sentiment so perfectly echoed the very thing Leopold had accused her of earlier that day in the carriage that I couldn’t find it in my heart to say no.
“If you insist,” I said, handing over the silk dress. “What do you smell?”
She took a short whiff, then blinked with surprise. “Bellatricedoes love her florals, doesn’t she?” She smelled the dress again. “Vanilla, certainly. Maybe a peony?”
I nodded, waiting for more.
Margaux thought for a long moment. “There’s…there’s a very green scent to it, isn’t there? Almost like a forest.” She paused, chewing at her bottom lip. “I know I’ve smelled it a dozen times before, but…” She brightened. “Geranium!”
“Geranium?” I echoed, taking the dress back to smell it once more. I did smell the woodsy note that she’d mentioned, but it didn’t seem as though geraniums could be its source.
She nodded adamantly. “They’re my mother’s favorite flower. She always has giant bushes of them planted around her windows so she can see their cheery red blooms all summer long. I’m certain that’s what it is.”
“Theycanhelp to treat pain,” I mused.
Margaux let out a little shiver of excitement. “Then that proves it!” She immediately faltered, her face darkening. “But how do you turn geraniums into medicine?”
“That’s not hard. Making tonics is a lot like cooking. We’ll need to distill it down into an oil. That way it can be spread as a paste or added to tea. We’d just need to get the geraniums themselves. A lot of them,” I added, thinking of how much of the king’s body had been secreting the Brilliance.
I brought Bellatrice’s dress to my nose again, still uncertain if the blend contained the essence of the squiggled leaves.
“Come on,” Margaux said, tired of waiting for my response. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. “They’re this way!”
Chapter 37
Shortly after sunrise, after anight spent over burning fires and sweltering steam baths, the oil was ready.
Margaux had stayed with me through the entire process, cheerfully fetching water and tools, bringing us carafes of coffee during the thin hours before dawn when giddy exhaustion threatened to overtake us.
We’d worked all through the night, but it was finally done.
I filled a cart, packing it with gauze strips, my medicine chests, and a heavy iron skillet, still sizzling with the green elixir. Rather than straining it out into a fine oil, I’d left in the wilted leaves and stalks, stewing as much potency from them as I could.
Margaux made a gesture over me as I wheeled it out, ready to bring it to Marnaigne.
“The Holy First sees your work,” she said with a beatific, if somewhat tired, smile. “She will watch over you and the king. She will watch it all. But I…” Her expression twisted with chagrin. “I shall watch nothing, for I will be asleep. Go do great things, Hazel.”
“Thank you, Margaux. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
She gave me a short bow and trudged off to her chambers.
When I turned the corner, pushing my cart into the great hall, I was surprised to see Euphemia, already up and dressed and lying on her stomach in front of the king’s door. She had a stack of paper and some oil pastels in front of her, and was so hard at work on her picture, she didn’t look up until I was nearly on top of her.
“Good morning, Hazel!” she cried with a wide smile, pushing herself to her knees. “I’m decorating a note for Papa!”
I knelt beside her, ready to look at her work and offer praise, but she snatched it away before I could get even one glimpse.
“It’s just for Papa,” she explained. “Are you going in to see himnow?”
I nodded, gesturing to the cart. “I’ve got some things that I think are going to make him feel much better very soon.”
Her little face lit up. “Really?”
It was hard to meet her eyes.
She folded up her missive, staining the creamy paper with colorful fingerprints, then offered it to me. “Can you give this to him? When you go in?”
I stuck the letter in my skirt’s pocket and promised I would.
