Fifty-Five
“How do you know that?” Aowen snarls, pushing the thorn in harder.
Timothy sucks a pained breath through clenched teeth, lifting his bound hands higher. “I overheard a conversation between him and my father the night they made their plans to frame me.”
“It was Torvil,” I rasp out. “All three times?”
“Three times?” Timothy shakes his head, a thin line of blood crawling down his grimy neck. “I only know about—” He angles back, hissing. “Can you take this dagger away from my throat. She needs to hear this. Please.”
Aowen slowly backs away, then sits on a nearby branch, her elbow propped on her knee and her thorn leveled at Timothy’s head. “I’ve got a wicked throwing arm. And killer aim. Please, test me.”
Vesper flits down from the trees and perches on Aowen’s shoulder, narrowing her beady eyes. “Food. Dismembered food.”
Timothy recoils, and I smile as I stare down at him. “If your information is useful, the pixie won’t eat you. Probably. Now, explain why Torvil wants me dead. He needs me to become king.”
“He doesn’t, actually,” Timothy says. “He only needs the seed of novillum inside you. That’s what the poison would have done—extract the seed from your body. Killing you would have been a mere side effect.”
“Oh, amereside effect?” I scoff. This doesn’t make any sense. “I was in Tír na Lune for weeks. He had ample opportunity. Why did he wait until Lughnasadh?”
“It took him until then to replicate it. He learned of the poison after that anti-monarchist attacked you in the crypt. Hewasn’t trying to kill you, either. Or, well, he wasn’tonlytrying to kill you. After all, your death would have only meant the delay of the Wild Hunt for another Season. But destroying the novillum itself? Without it, no king can claim power.”
“Is that what Torvil wants? To destroy the novillum and end the monarchy?”
Timothy frowns. “He didn’t share the intricacies of his plans with my father. But he did say?—”
A deep growl shakes the forest, far enough away that it’s hard to tell whether it was a báshound or a necrowolf.
Aowen swivels toward it. “Go see.”
Vesper’s off the second Aowen finishes her request.
Timothy’s stunned into silence, quivering, searching the shadowed crevices beneath the thick canopy surrounding us.
“Timothy,” I snap.
“Right.” He brushes hair from his face, and something glints on the rope around his wrists.
A cloudy diamond. Like the one on the bracelet Torvil gave me.
Aowen notices it the same moment I do, then leaps to her feet. “You fucking idiot!” She pulls Timothy up, then slices through his bonds and throws them as far downstream as she can. But the water isn’t moving fast enough to pull it away quickly. “You’ve brought them right to us!” She grabs him by the shirt and hauls him down to her face. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
“I didn’t know,” Timothy babbles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Please,” I say calmly over Aowen’s shoulder. “Finish what you were telling me.”
Something very large crashes through the underbrush, snapping branches and crunching leaves. A harrowing roar trembles my bones. It’s closing in. And swiftly.
“We need to get out of here. Now.” Aowen clears the site, tossing the remains of our snack into the creek, shifting piles of leaves around.
“He said he would rule,” Timothy says to me, “but that there would be no queen. That even if you made it to the Wild Hunt, he would ensure it.”
“What does that even mean? And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Timothy laughs, a bitter puff. “I’m dead either way. What would I gain by lying to you?”
“Let’s go!” Aowen tugs me away from Timothy.
“Come with us!” I scream as she drags me through the shallow water. “We’ll protect you from him!”
