She darts to her bags and spreads her tools across her bed. With a vial of peach blossom honey in her hand, she retrieves cloves, salt, and chili powder from the kitchen to create a protection spell to try to ward off Versa. It takes nearly an hour to reach each corner of the expansive estate and paint that protectivearrow, now doubling the number of runes hidden throughout the house and on the backs of her father’s paintings. The work calms her, bringing her from a state of panic to one of exhaustion by the time she finishes and comes back to her room. Tears prick her eyes as she finally starts to remove her costume, layer by layer, until only her chemise is left. She removes that, too, and then tugs at the bandages around her torso that protect her tattoo. As she pulls, the bandage rubs against her still-raw skin, but she does not stop.
She welcomes the pain. It is the only distraction, and it hurts less than the truth she has seen on this night. When her skin is exposed, she touches the small bee that sits below the swell of her breasts. Her greatest fear is that this may be all she will ever have of Lottie Burke, but it is not only a fear—it is a promised fate.
She vows now to herself in the mirror to build up her walls, to no longer be flesh and blood, but a girl of ice and stone. She cannot be weak again. She will not give in again.
Chapter Thirty-One
The day starts with a bang. The sound echoes from the kitchen, and screams follow. Marigold’s lady’s maid, Helena, bounds through her bedroom door and nearly shakes her awake. Her mind is cloudy, but a surge of adrenaline floods her body.
The grimoire is still open next to her, but she has no time to ponder everything she learned last night or continue more research this morning.
“Miss Claude! We must start dressing you at once!”
Marigold stretches her arms upward, and Helena seizes the opportunity to grab her wrists and pull her out of bed.
“Why the haste, Helena?”
“It is your sister’s wedding day, for goodness’ sake!”
She sits Marigold in a chair in front of her vanity and starts combing her hair. Another bang sounds from downstairs.
“What on earth is going on down there?”
“They are preparing a massive spread for after the ceremony, and there was a small incident at the crack of dawn that changed the schedule a bit.”
Her blood runs cold. “What happened?” She did everything she could possibly do to keep her family safe, but unease still floods her body.
Helena leans in, whispering words of a scandal. “Let’s just say that the cake was ready last night, and this morning, it was not. So now they are finishing a new one.”
Marigold gasps. “Someone knocked over the cake? Who?”
“I heard from the butler that there were two giggling young boys riffling through the kitchen for a midnight snack. And things may have gotten physical.”
“A fight?”
Helena blushes. “Not exactly.”
She ponders until the information clicks in her mind—August and Frankie, of course. They must have been much more caught up in their budding relationship than they admitted last night when they took to their separate rooms. Marigold laughs, as she cannot entirely blame them. She is the one who brought them together, and if she were lucky enough to find her soulmate, she imagines that she would behave the same.
A sudden sharp pain makes her wince; a broken heart?
No, it is only Helena, violently combing tangles out of her hair with unyielding strength.
“I’d like you to leave at least some hair still attached to my head, Helena.”
Helena makes a disapproving face. “Well, I’d like for you to have brushed your hair out of its style from last night. Wishes do not always come true.”
“You are right about that,” she says, shifting in her seat.
“Goodness, how did it become so tangled?”
She grits her teeth as she remembers the kiss from last night, when Lottie had her blond curls in her fist, when Marigold got to hold the bend of Lottie’s waist—for the smallest moment, they were one, and it was as beautiful as it was dangerous.
Helena is finally able to twirl Marigold’s hair into a fashionable updo adorned with small pearls. She stands to begin dressing in her elaborate gown that has been fitted perfectly to her form.
“Have you seen Aster this morning? How is she feeling?”
“Oh, she is nervous. But she is also thrilled, and she looks marvelous. An absolute jewel, that girl.”
