The oddness of Brietta being referred to by her new title pulled me out of my thoughts. “Yes, something interesting. Preferably something written by a woman…if that is even possible.”
Mother smiled. “I will be right back.”
She pushed the back of the bookshelf and slipped into the conservatory.
Light from the sunny conservatory filled the potion room, exposing the secrets like upturning a bowl and finding a worm underneath.
I rolled the vial of sleeping draught in my fingers. Giving Derrick a sleeping draught to help him cope with his new role could be a merciful gift.
Was it not better to let someone live in a dream instead of facing the horrors of life? It was kind, it was…
My white flame lit up my chest, scorching every bit of reasoning I had behind that little glass vial.
No.Everypoisoning was a violation. My body had been invaded so many times that I could never do it to someone else. Especially not Derrick.
Mother wanted me to keep Derrick safe? Fine. I would make sure no one ever poisoned him again.
Even her.
I smashed the vial on the stone floor and stormed to the work table. I held the tin of faerie dust in my hands, sending out my magic and finding only a few twinkles of tears that had been inside the living mushrooms. The dust sparkled like a tiny hill of snow. So beautiful. So pristine.
And then I lit it all on fire.
My mother was a more sentimental creature than I ever gave her credit for.
Brietta was delighted when I handed her Freya’s diary, a treasure that my mother had kept hidden away. She said she would pore over it after she convinced Derrick to sit for his coronation portrait.
Since I had to wait for Derrick to return from his portrait sitting, I had changed into my nightgown early and lounged on a couch in the Duke’s chambers. I stitched a leaf pattern into the cuffs of one of his shirts, finally having some peace at the end of the day.
Just as I was finishing off a stitch, a couple of sharp taps rang through the glass behind me. I looked over my shoulder and spied a large black blur on the other side of the stained glass doors.
One of my brothers was on the balcony.
I set down my embroidery hoop and rushed to the doors. I pushed the doors open and my heart sank.
No pink beak—it was Endre. Erik was still missing and there was no parchment on Endre’s leg. Evereon must have decided further communication was not worth the risk.
A decision made much too late.
“Have you seen Erik?” I whispered.
Endre shook his head and flapped his wings to perch on the balcony railing—exactlywhere our mother had sent Anders Hyton to his death.
My breath caught in my throat as I stood between the doors, too haunted by Mother’s confession of murder to step onto the balcony’s surface.
“A certain Ravenwood sure was naughty, but at least she lived up to the House reputation.”
I turned to the voice at my left—Daigen leaned on the edge of the balcony with a dark cloak hanging around his shoulders, seemingly having appeared out of thin air.
I wanted to bite back at him for slinking around the palace yet doing nothing to help me, but I could not find anger for him. Not when he and I were just trying to save someone who had saved us.
I let out a breath and forced myself to look at him. “Fraleigh still does not want you to save her. I hope she can forgive you once we succeed.”
Daigen’s brow softened slightly, but his mouth formed a thin line and he looked away. “She has not spoken to me since the day your Riyan was born. She should have known better than to think cursing me and shunning me for twenty-two years would stop the will of the Man of the Mountain. You were getting the gift of sorcery whether she liked it or not.”
After witnessing the purity of their love for one another, the continued antagonism between Fraleigh and Daigen made little sense. What else was happening that Daigen refused to tell me?
If only I couldask.
