22
Breakfast came withletters. Lydia wrote us again, rambling about the Season coming to a close and offering to send us better jewelry to wear to the upcoming soirée. I hardly got through half of it before abandoning it for another note from Ash. Tori and Genevieve shot me some looks at the sight of the royal seal, but I let them believe what they wanted.
Amarante,
I’ve scheduled to visit Captain Greenwood this evening at six. It would mean the world if you joined me then.
Yours,
Ash
The two of them were shamelessly giggling when I told them I was going to take another walk.
“I...I’m going to visit Olivia!” I said in an attempt to stop Tori’s guffaws and Genevieve’s sly smiles.
Tori only snorted. “Alright. Say hello to Prince Ash for us.”
Lord Strongfoot burst in before I could defend myself. He looked as if he had just rolled out of bed, waving a newspaper around frantically. “Girls, I just read the most confounding news.”
“What is it, Pa?” Tori asked, wide-eyed.
“They say the queen was poisoned by a witch!”
I gaped as Genevieve gave a soft gasp.
“How awful,” my stepsister said, pressing her fingers to her lips. “But how did they find out? Was anyone arrested?”
Lord Strongfoot shook his head, mussing his already mussed black hair. “They didn’t find a culprit, if that’s what you mean. But the physicians say the poison was unlike anything they’ve seen and concluded that it was witch-made. Who would’ve thought!”
I was frozen in my seat. Everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. There was no manbane antidote, and now this. How did the physicians know the poison was witch-made? Erasmus couldn’t have told them, and the note he sent me had long been destroyed in my damp dress pocket.
And who could have possibly leaked this information when it was supposed to be a private case?
“Just because the poison is witch-made doesn’t mean a witch did it,” Tori reasoned, chewing on a piece of bacon. I could’ve kissed her.
Lord Strongfoot nodded. “You’re right, my girl. We mustn’t forget the Witch Market. That’s why old Greenwood is still imprisoned. But I’ve heard more people are asking for his pardon now that this bit of news is out,” he said. “Can’t blame them. I’d choose a witch to be imprisoned than the captain any day.”
I lowered my head and buttered a piece of toast I didn’t intend to eat. My fondness for the former blacksmith didn’t keep me from feeling offended, but I knew he only wished the best for his benefactor.
