I start to understand his logic. If they question me about finding Merit, they’ll question me about what I was doing and who I saw, and like an unstoppable waterfall, there’s a chance I’ll plunge Will, Pigeon, and her friend Tansy into danger, along with anyone we interacted with in Mithian. I know too much. Though…should I fight to protect someone who would do this to Merit? The guards are desperate for information on the rebels and if Pigeon was involved in this—
“Please,” Will says, then snaps his head to the trees. He swears under his breath and pulls me to my feet. “I’m sorry about this.”
Before I can reply, he shoves my basket into my bloodstained hands and twists his wrists. A rush of wind swirls around my skirts and throws me backward. The trees zip by me in a blur of earthy streaks until I land in the brush, scratches from all around trying to claw at my skin. The magic wind doesn’t abandon me. It dissipates slowly enough for me to find my feet among the shrubbery. I check my hands in the little light left—hands I was so happy to have next to Will’s, now covered up to the wrists in Merit’s blood. Oh my gods.
I scramble around for a plant safe enough to scrub my skin with. I find a dock leaf and frantically wipe my hands. It won’t all come off. Why isn’t it coming off? A shout from nearby paralyzes me. There’s no time left. Heavy footsteps clunk in the direction of Merit and Will. It’s too late. The guards are here, and Will was right. Nothing good can come of my inability or refusal to answer questions about this. But if Will gets blamed…What should I do? Do I defend him or let it be added to his pile of allegations?
Later. Think about it later.
“Over here!” A familiar voice cries near the tree line. It’s Tarin.
“Search the area!” Howell shouts. “Spread out.”
Okay, time to go.
I bolt away from the voices, toward the southeast and the late-afternoon sun, toward home, where I will be found doing nothing suspicious whatsoever. The trees in this part of the forest are nestled close together, and I have to fight against branches and squeeze between trunks before they spread out enough for me to run. With a choking pain in my throat that has nothing to do with my curse and a tight grip on my basket, I press on.
Just like on the mountain, one moment I’m balanced, the next I’m sprawled on the ground, pain rocketing down my legs. Gnarled roots bruise my forearms and my basket tumbles away. I stifle a cry.Get up.Keep going.
A startlingly cold slice of metal appears against my throat.
“Don’t move,” Nettle says, pressing the hunting knife against my skin. I spread my hands on the dirt.
“Nettle—”
“Save your words. Get up and come with me,” she orders.
“Where to?” I ask, moving as slowly as I can manage with her knife hovering so close to my neck.
“Where do you think, Little Miss Perfect? To see the queen.”
Chapter Thirteen
Nettle keeps her blade against the small of my back until the citadel gates come into view. Godfrey nods in greeting, but the grip on his sword belt is tighter than usual. He knows something is in the air, something in the forest that has his guards on high alert.
“Try to run and there’ll be a knife in your back,” Nettle says into my ear, then shoves me toward the fountain.
“Where do you expect me to run?” I bite back. She’s acting like she caught me in the middle of a crime. Surely she doesn’t have any evidence I was with Will. Hopefully.
By now the sun is dipping below the horizon and candles are being lit as stores close up for the evening. I should be doing the same. I should be potting the flowers in my basket and tending to them. Instead, Nettle marches me to the castle without any detours, right over the drawbridge and into the entrance hall.
“Not so polished and perfect now, are you?” she says.
“You sound jealous.”
She scoffs. “No, I find you nauseatingly sweet. It’s about time I caught you messing up. Move.”
I’m guided left into the Grand Hall, usually reserved for important ceremonies and petitions. In fact, it’s where Card and Bash’s wedding will be held in a few weeks, although there’s no sign of preparations yet. The spacious stone hall is empty as we barge in, nothing but floating dust and two thrones on a raised dais at the far end, on which the king and queen sit in thick robes that suggest they were getting ready for bed before—well, before they caught wind of whatever caused Merit to collapse at my feet. Queen Fern shoots to her feet, and the blanket on her lap crumples to the floor.
“Nettle! Is there any news?” she cries.
“Your Majesty,” Nettle says, and curtsies. Her hand on my shoulder forces me to do the same, as if she thinks I wouldn’t have shown them respect without her assistance. “I found Felicity in the forest near the site of the attack.”
The acute relief on Queen Fern’s face has my stomach sinking. She thinks I have answers. She thinks that my curse will put her mind at ease once again. I’m her remedy to any worry—except this time, I have nothing to give her. Nothing I’m willing to give anyway. Not until I learn what truly happened. Pigeon didn’t tell me her plan earlier, so if she was involved, I’ll have some degree of control over my words because I don’t know the details. I truly do not know what caused Merit to be injured. If Pigeon wanted this violence, then I need time to decide what to say. Now is not the right time to open my mouth without thinking it through, not with emotions running so high.
King Garland’s dark eyebrows pinch together as he regards me. His wide jaw and built shoulders would be intimidating were it not for the sickly green cast to his skin. From the sheen of feverish sweat on his forehead, to the ever-present tremor in the fingers that rest on the arms of his golden throne, I can tell that the rumors of his worsening illness hold some truth. I haven’t seen him out in the town since before Simon’s passing, and even then, he was becoming more and more of a recluse as the months went by. We’ve never been well acquainted, certainly not on the level I have been with the queen,and perhaps the stories about his failing memory are also accurate, as he doesn’t recognize my face right away.
“Speak,” the king commands. “What did you see? Miss…?”
