Chapter Fourteen
The pouch of money accompanying the request form was a sum unlike any other. It was double what they’d given for each of the previous two flowers, then doubled again. Forty gold. More than a whole season’s worth of salary.Andthey paid in advance this time, so I take it as an unmistakable hint that ASAP means as soon as humanly possible. Which is fine by me. This time, I don’t ask Creon at the apothecary or check the library for information. I don’t need to. I’ve heard of the flower they’re asking for and know it needs the cover of nightfall to bloom. What remains is the exact location.
I wait until the citadel is dozing under a blanket of darkness, until Mum has blown out the candles and the guards have patrolled past my house. Until I can’t wait any longer. I give in to the frenzy in my veins and gear myself up with a fleece-lined coat, lantern, and basket of gardening tools. I creep down the stairs and sprint through empty streets like there’s a tether pulling me on.
The gates are locked and guarded at night, but there’s a guardhouse to the right that’s empty until the shifts change—something I only know because I occasionally snuck out to meet Lark whenhe got off duty during his sentry days. I tiptoe through the candlelit space, haunts of my past self in every corner. Every table and chair, every wall he had me pressed against. Every kiss that we tried to keep silent. Every lie he whispered into my ear.
I hug my arms around my waist like a shield, but the hurt doesn’t hit as hard. These memories don’t matter much anymore. There are other people whose betrayals cause more pain. I just never thought Card would be one of them.
Out in the cold air once more, I stride into the forest. The discordant shadows that move out of sight don’t scare me. The pounding, drumming beat behind my ribs drives me forward and doesn’t let up until the cottage comes into sight, the ivy silver in the moonlight.
There’s a dim light in the window to the workshop, and when I peek through the glass, Ruth is dozing on a chair by the fireplace. There’s only one other light on in a room on the upper floor, so I pick up a small pebble and chuck it. It hits the window with a pathetic tap, less than the peck of a bird’s beak, and I cringe. So much for a bold move.
While I’m scanning the wildflowers at my feet for something else to throw, the window opens and Will leans on the frame, the sleeves of his loose white shirt rolled up to his elbows.
“Farrow, what on earth are you doing?”
I startle and almost drop my lantern, which would be a very bad idea with all this dry grass around.
“Trying to get your attention. Come down here.”
Will angles his head. It’s too dim to read his expression.
“Right…” he drags out.
“Are you coming or not?”
“Give me a minute, Princess,” he says, then disappears from view.
It’s only then that the panic creeps in. I smooth down my skirt, my stomach squirming with every passing second, but thankfully, I don’t have to wait long. Without warning, Will leaps out of his window and softens the landing with magic. He shrugs his hands in the pockets of a black jacket, that white shirt now buttoned up andtucked in some leather trousers. A flicker of a breeze, and the window closes.
Will ambles toward me, the warmth of my lantern lighting fires in his eyes.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks.
“I’m paying my debt.” It comes out harsher than I want it to. I don’t mean to be so bitter, but tonight thoughts of both Card and Lark have me battered and bruised.
“What debt is that?”
“I owe you a promise,” I say, and tug the anonymous request sheet out of my pocket.
Will holds it close to the light to read. “Lunarie, huh…”
“Do you know where they are?”
He scans my face.
“I do,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate. “Are you okay?”
“I’m—” I start to say that I’m fine but I can’t. Because I’m not. I swerve around the sentence. “I don’t think that’s important.”
“Fliss.”
“Let’s go.”
Will holds my determined stare for a few seconds, then nods. He gestures for me to follow him into the forest.
“Did you avoid questions about the princeling?” he asks as I set the pace, striding like there’s something at our heels.
