Page 121 of The Reaping Rose

“Right?” I take a sip of my beer.

Marigold leans closer, lowering her voice. “Some think she’s part Fae. The very thing the overlord swears he wants to banish. There are whispers that he only wants to oust the queen so he can be the one to see her plans to fruition, and that he’ll use the girl to do it. Although, I don’t understand why he would think that girl can help when even the gods rejected her.”

I hum in response, not saying anything as I set my beer on the bar top, trying to keep my expression passive. Careful not to seem too curious.

“If anything is cursed, it isn’t this realm. It’s her.” Marigold’s gaze falls.

“You think the girl spreads the plague through the realm?”

“Yes. No.” She shakes her head. “The realm started dying long before her. But something changed when they laid her before the gods. Something that made the gods turn their backs on us for good.”

My eyebrows pinch.

“You don’t know the story?” Her eyes widen in realization, and she scoots closer, pressing her leg to mine. So close I can feel her heat. Smell the tangerine tonic on her skin.

Something wraps my throat until I can hardly breathe, so I shift away. Thankfully, Marigold doesn’t seem to notice.

“When the forests started dying, the townspeople left gifts to the gods to bless us with fruit and food so we wouldn’t starve. They’d lay a child of the night—the first child born on the first full moon of winter—before the trees in offering. By morning, the child would be gone, and a patch of greenery would be in their place. That greenery would spread and hold back the plague. Until her.”

“The girl with the overlord?”

Marigold swallows hard, her eyes darting around the room. “She was one of those children. Only, when her family returned with the townspeople the next morning, there was no life in her place. No apples hanging from the branches. No greenery, no food. Around the child was a patch of darkness that rotted even the moss on the ground. And where the gods rejected her was a mark on her face. A promise of death. Our realm has failed to bloom since. The gods left us because of whatever they saw in that girl’s soul.”

I don’t know what to make of Marigold’s story. It’s doubtful the gods had anything to do with it, especially when I’ve never heard of human sacrifices appeasing them. But clearly, something happened.

“If the gods didn’t want her, I don’t know why the overlord does.” Marigold shivers. “But he claims she’s a message from fate, sent to deliver a warning that so long as the queen continues trying to summon the cursed creatures, the gods will not help us. He believes that girl’s mark is not a curse, but a cure to magic. He says that she holds the power to stop the Fae if the queen is successful in summoning them.”

If that’s the case, the overlord must know about the void because he’s right; Esen’s magic can stop us.

“Does the queen know of the overlord’s plans to overthrow her? That was quite a parade yesterday. He’s not being discreet in gathering his army.”

“The overlord is not subtle. But even if he was, the queen knows all and sees all.” Marigold smirks, pulling back to take a sip of her drink. “Overlord Farseth is not worried about it so long as he keeps the girl. It’s said the queen uses ancient Fae magic to hold her throne, but if the girl can do as he says, she cannot wield it against him. He does not fear what the queen uses to maintain power.”

“What do you believe?” I ask, curious.

Marigold chuckles, no amusement in it. “What I believe is irrelevant. I am but company to those passing through. Like many others, I will feel the effects regardless of who wins, no matter my opinion. But I’m alive now. As are you. I let that be enough.”

She lifts her glass, and I can’t help thinking of Elorie, caught between two realms. Friends and enemies on either side.

Marigold doesn’t take her eyes off me as she lifts her drink, and I take a sip with her, considering everything she said. Her realm sits on the precipice of war based on rumors and misinformation. It’s not that different from home.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “I heard the southern continent was isolated, but I’m surprised how little you’ve heard of the royal troubles from there.”

“I’m from a small village. What stories pass through are told through a different lens.” That much isn’t a lie.

Marigold smiles, taking another sip and watching me. “It’s a good night for a walk, don’t you think?” She leans close, lust in her eyes. “My house is not far, and my husband has gone north for the season.”

Her hand slips onto my thigh, and my fingers tighten around my beer. There’s no sense of loyalty anymore. It’s one thing the Fae and humans have always had in common. And even if it doesn’t really matter when it’s not my commitments that would be broken, something visceral holds me back.

Her fingers graze my inner thigh, and I’d love to be lost between her legs. To feel anything but this aching emptiness that widens with every passing day. But Marigold smiles wider, and I feel nothing but resistance surging inside me.

At least she was good company for a drink, and her information set a plan in place.

“Are you ready to leave?” she asks sweetly.

My smile is tight when I nod.

Marigold turns to the barkeep to hand him her empty glass, but I’m gone out the back door before she spins in her seat. Gone before she can remember I was ever really there at all. Sometimes, I wonder if I even am anymore.