Everyone has an agenda. Henry and his parents, Rochelli, Rafe—all of them want different things, and they are all also constantly making moves against each other. Henry’s family or friends could have orchestrated that run-in with Shane to turn me against my parents. The man was at Bea’s bar—a place Henry and his friends already knew about. He could have mimicked handwriting on that note that looked like Gaven’s to create doubt.
In the absence of a fully trustworthy source, I have to rely on my instincts, and I’m not sure what to do with this new information about my father. I suppose I can ask Kellan about it, but there is a direct correlation between what he expects my response to be and the likelihood that he will share the considerable knowledge granted to him as head of the city guard.
Philip holds up his hand, feeding one last bit of fire into the remaining wood. “May Divine Asher deliver the soul of his servant, Gaven Pomeroy, beyond the veil, and may he find peace with the deeds he has done and all that he’s left unfinished.”
“Divine receive him,” we all say in unison.
Bryce and Carter wander away, along with Henry’s parents, but my husband remains beside me, staring at the charred remnants.
“When you’re finished, a servant will gather the ashes and bring them to you if you’d like,” Henry says softly.
I frown. “Why? What would I do with them?”
Henry steps closer. “I thought you might want to sprinkle them in one of his favorite places. But if you’re too upset, you don’t have to think about it now. I can?—”
I turn on him. “I’m not upset. I asked for holy fire because I knew that would be meaningful to him. There’s nothing else I feel compelled to do to honor him, unless I haven’t performed my grief to your satisfaction.”
Henry licks his lips and frowns. “I’ll give you a moment alone to say what you need to.” He turns and leaves me with the pile of ashes.
I wait until I hear the Havenwood House doors close before I speak.
“I know you would urge me to let this go—to not take my chances with a man like Stefan—but it would just be pandering if I listened to you for the first time ever just because you died,” I whisper.
I tip my head back and sigh. This is so stupid. Speaking to Gaven’s remains makes me sadder than watching his body burn.
As much time as I spent trying to evade my bodyguard, it was nice knowing that there was someone behind me when I wanted him to be.
When I turn and walk back to the house, a new day has dawned—one where I’m finished waiting for revenge.
Three days after Gaven’s funeral pyre, a messenger dove arrives from Lunameade.
I look down at the wax seal, expecting it to be broken, the missive already read by Henry. But it’s still intact when he hands it to me. I guess he feels bad enough about Gaven’s death that he’s stopped confiscating or reading my mail.
I stop paging through the heavy book in front of me and hold the note up to the light streaming in through the library windows. My name is written out in Kellan’s messy handwriting. I break the seal and open the letter.
Found the well runoff. It turns into the blood mist just south of the wall, ashort way into the Drained Wood. It explains the excessive attacks on South Hold, but the ones on North Hold are still a mystery.
I stare at the words, trying to make sense of them. My theory was right. Whatever is affecting the well seems to also be affecting the Drained. I was not expecting to find the origin of the blood mist.
I think of the story that Nicolina told about how the Deathless became the Drained by drinking the well water to try to gain more power. Maybe it’s the remnants of blood in the water driving them into a frenzy.
“Something wrong in the city?” Henry asks, startling me from my thoughts.
I shake my head, cross the library, and toss the missive into the fire.
The irritation on Henry’s face is delicious. He’s become better at controlling his aura’s reactions since he knows I’m paying attention, but it always gets a little prickly before he wrangles it. I’ve kept my distance from him, and his constant brooding is satisfying.
I’m right on the precipice of figuring out exactly what the Havenwoods want. My conversation with Henry was telling. It’s not a surprise that they want my father dead after what he did, but I’m wondering exactly how they plan to do it. If he weren’t so entrenched, I might have done it myself.
It might make sense to bathe the fort wall with well water because it’s smaller than the city. Trying to do the same in Lunameade would require a tremendous amount of water.
I have no intention of telling my parents everything I’ve learned, but knowing what is coming will help me figure out how much to give in order to earn the key and my way out. At this point, even if I told my father the truth about Henry, it’s not as if there’s an easy way to manage him.
Once the message finishes burning, I return to the still-open book on the library table. I sit and peer at the crude sketch of a Stellarium Blossom on the page.
When I first discovered my magic, I studied poisons to understand how different types worked, and through practice I learned that if I understood the way each plant poison worked, I could vary how my magic affected its victims.
When I killed my first husband, Marc, I used small doses ofbelladonna. A quick dip of a poisoned fingertip in his morning tea was enough to start the hallucinations, and I made them worse by adding a little more each day, until he was raving mad.
