“Okay, okay. We’re all done.”
Marigold fights to catch her breath as Lottie picks up a small mirror from the desk. “Take a look.”
She pulls the ribbon from her mouth and takes the mirror from Lottie’s hand, angling it toward herself. In the diamond between her breasts sits a small bee, no bigger than a pocket watch. She tries to touch it, but Lottie catches her wrist.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m going to wrap it up in a moment. I just wanted to know if you like it.”
Marigold searches for words. It is beautiful, even better than she could have imagined. It’s small, sweet, and perfect. Lottie’s talent is otherworldly—better and more impressive than anything she ever saw in Bardshire. She would hug Lottie if her skin was not so tender.
“It’s absolutely stunning, Lottie. How much?”
“Consider it a trade for this,” she says as she gestures to the spell tied around her neck. Lottie starts wrapping a bandage around her ribs to protect the tattoo, and Marigold says, “Are you telling me that you might actually believe in my magic?”
Lottie pulls the bandage tight and Marigold winces. “Those were not my words. But perhaps I don’t mind the idea of a soulmate.”
“You’ve changed your tune quite a bit, Lottie Burke. You are getting dangerously close to admitting you were wrong.”
Lottie hands Marigold her chemise. “I didn’t say I believe in magic, and I definitely do not believe in any of that nonsense about you being cursed.”
“Believe me, I wish that part were not true.” She pulls her chemise over her head.
“It’s not true, Marigold.”
Can she pretend that Lottie is right for a moment? Where would that lead? Maybe giving in to this lust wouldn’t destroy her in the end. Or maybe it would, but it could be worth it. She approaches Lottie and stands before her. “And how do you know?”
“Because…” she says as she tucks a blond curl behind Marigold’s ear. “Just look at yourself. How could someone not fall in love with you?”
The two of them stare into each other, the candlelight vibrating between them. Marigold adjusts her chemise and touches her hand to her burning cheek. “Do not say things like that to me when you know them not to be true.”
“Mari, I mean it. I’m—” Her face suddenly loses all color, and she clasps her hand over her mouth, gagging. “Oh no, I’m going to be sick.” She hastens to their private balcony and retches over the side.
Marigold cannot stand the sight or sound of vomiting, so she keeps her distance. “You should have told me you’re the type to get seasick. I would have brought something to help you,” she says as starts cleaning up Lottie’s things.
Lottie, bracing herself on the railing, yells, “I never get seasick,” followed immediately by violent heaves.
“I find that hard to believe considering what I am witnessing.”
When Lottie starts to quiet, Marigold approaches with a glass of water and a vial of black sage honey. “Honey first, then water. It’s not a perfect cure, but it will help.”
Lottie clearly doesn’t have the energy to fight or object, so she takes her medicine quietly. She lets out a breath of frustration. “I do not know what is happening to me. Headaches, nausea, tension. I have these random bouts of pure misery that I’ve never experienced before.”
“You’ve been in a new environment for days. You’re awayfrom your normal comforts. You’ve been drinking. And now you’re on a very fast ship. It’s all perfectly normal.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she says, “You are not hearing me. I am telling you that this is not normal.”
“Then, what do you think the problem is?” She places her hand on her hip.
Lottie wipes her mouth with her forearm. “I do not know, but I am going to figure it out.”
Marigold hovers for a moment until the air is too thick to breathe, the tension too heavy to stand. She goes to her bed across the room from Lottie’s and lies on her back. Lottie blows out the candles, blanketing the room in perfect darkness. She goes to lie down and steadies her breathing quickly. Marigold thinks that Lottie is asleep until she hears her voice from across the room.
“Glad you like your tattoo.”
She turns her body to face Lottie’s bed, though she cannot see her through the darkness. “Thank you for giving it to me.”
“Happy to,” Lottie says.
“Glad you like your spell.”
