“But you said your father did sell secrets to the French. Did the curse make him do it?”
“No.” He stood. “Yes? I don’t know how the witch does it. But two birthdays and two life-altering events. And there’s more.”
“If I were Catholic, I would cross myself.” She did not want to know what he would say next, and yet she was insatiably curious.
“You should, because when I arrived home the night I met you—the night I first came to the Silver Unicorn—I saw the witch in my fire.”
Violet stared at him. She had not doubted his sanity until now, but she was beginning to think he just might be daft. “In your fire?”
“Yes! I was sitting by the hearth, having a drink, and she appeared in the fire.”
“You were drunk, and sometimes the flames can look like shapes—”
“She steppedoutof the hearth, Violet. She spoke to me.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, and Violet looked into his green eyes, which were surprisingly lucid. And yet even through the fabric of her dress, she could feel how cold his hands were. He had truly been frightened, and he was frightened now remembering it.
“What did she say?”
“She said she wanted a look at me now that it has begun.”
“The curse.”
He nodded. “And I said something likeholy hell, and she said hell isn’t holy. Then I called for my valet, or perhaps I called for him before that—I don’t remember. She said he couldn’t hear me, and I tried to wake up. I thought it was a dream, but when I closed my eyes and pinched myself, she was still there. She said to remember the curse. And she said—I will never forget this—she said,I’ll enjoy watching ye suffer.”
His voice took on a malevolent tone with what she assumed was supposed to be a Scottish accent.
“Then the next morning, my father had been found guilty of treason and I woke up to find every merchant and debt collector in London at my doorstep.”
Violet did not know what to say. It was an amazing story, fantastical and not to be believed.
“I entertained every single thought you are having right now,” he told her, still holding her shoulders and looking intently at her face, almost as though he could read her mind. “And I had almost talked myself out of believing any of it happened. And then you gave me this.”
He released her and pulled the slip of yellow paper from his waistcoat. He slapped it down on the bar, and Violet peered at the spidery writing on the yellow parchment.
“If there’s not a curse, how do you explain this?”
Chapter Twelve
King watched asViolet leaned over the paper and then, with a fingernail, slid it closer to the candle, presumably so she could read it. She squinted and placed her finger so it hovered just above the first line. He noticed she was careful not to touch the paper, and her lips moved as she read. He didn’t need to see the parchment to know what she saw. He had the words immutably etched on his brain.
Procure petal of flower, dash of dust of thefae.
Combine now in this goblet, please if youmay.
Hear me now, great goddess of good andlight.
“This certainly sounds like some sort of spell,” she said, pausing after the mention of the great goddess. “But she’s calling on powers of good and light. See, here?”
“Yes, this is the spell from the sister. Not the curse.”
“Do you think she actually took a goblet and mixed flower petals and fairy dust?”
“I don’t know. At this point, I will believe anything.”
The expression on her face told him she certainly agreed with that statement.
“The next part is important,” he added.
She looked down, and her lips moved again as she read. She read too slowly for his taste, and he recited it to her. “It says,Take mercy on these children. Ease their plight. Lose they may all they hold dear but open a path to clean the smear.”
