Chapter 22
CHAPTER
Twenty-Two
Jasper opened the door. ‘I’ll deal with this.’
‘I can do it.’
Jasper ignored her, running lightly down the stairs.
Thea threw up her arms in exasperation before following, shooting daggers at his back.
A man was pacing back and forth, visible through the back window.
When Jasper let him in, he looked between Jasper and Thea, nervous energy radiating from him that did not match the deep bags scored under his eyes, his shadowed jawline, too sharp, gaunt.
His patched shirt clung to his thin frame, too insubstantial for winter settling in outside.
‘I heard you could help me.’ Thea didn’t recognise him from the Quarter; he was non-magical, then.
‘We can,’ Jasper said. ‘Please, sit down. Tell us what you need.’
‘I am sick,’ the man began, refusing the chair. ‘I saw the doctor tonight and he told me . . .’ He resumed his pacing, tugging at his hair. ‘He told me that death would come soon. That I would not see next spring.’
Thea lowered her eyes in sympathy. Hearing these stories never got easier.
Jasper addressed him. ‘We cannot cure you, but we can prolong—’
‘No.’ The man stopped pacing.
Thea and Jasper exchanged a wary glance.
‘I am leaving four children and a wife behind,’ the man said quietly.
‘I am here to ask you to provide for them. Make me rich before I go. Then I won’t have to .
. .’ His voice broke. Thea closed her eyes, aching for him, for his family, unable to imagine the path that lay before them. ‘I won’t have to worry,’ he finished.
‘Done,’ Jasper said, making the man near collapse in relief. ‘That will be two months.’
The man gaped at him. ‘I . . . What?’
‘Two months of your life if you wish me to help you,’ Jasper said calmly.
The man looked to Thea as if she could do something. ‘Two months,’ he repeated faintly, shock surging through his face. ‘That’s too much, I would lose so much time, I . . .’
‘I’m sorry,’ Thea whispered.
Jasper yanked the chair out from beside Thea’s workbench. ‘Sit down,’ he ordered the man, who obeyed as if he was a small child. ‘I can’t tell you what to do, but this is your choice, so think on it carefully.’
The man looked up at Jasper, as lost as Jasper had been that night in the forest, out of his depth, bereft. ‘What would you do?’
Jasper hesitated, his back to Thea so she couldn’t see his expression, couldn’t guess at his thoughts. ‘I cannot tell you.’
‘Fine. Do it. Do it now.’ The man exhaled shakily. ‘I might lose time with them, but if I can secure them for a lifetime, I will have done right by them.’
‘That is a good decision,’ Jasper said softly, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder for a beat.
Thea blinked hard, staring at the wall. Grief swirled in the room, a saltwater scent rolling through the apothecary as if the walls themselves were crying.
In her growing space, the trees had fallen quiet apart from a steady rustle, which she suspected was her apple tree.
It was rhythmic, like it was sobbing to itself.
Jasper rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing his strong and supple forearms. Thea averted her eyes.
Rubbing the back of her neck, she tried to forget how it felt when he’d lifted her effortlessly onto the back of his horse.
How he’d kissed her like he was claiming her.
Now was not the time, she instructed herself strictly.
‘Are you well?’ Jasper asked her in an aside.
‘Yes,’ Thea half yelped, caught unawares.
His gaze turned shrewd, then knowing.
When Jasper unveiled the skeins of fate, his power set it aglow bright enough to light the entire apothecary up from within. All that power, and still he refused to help her. Anger rattled her bones.
Jasper amended the man’s fate swiftly and confidently, taking the months of his life as if he was plucking a single hair from his head. Afterwards, when the man had left, silence stretched between them.
Jasper broke it first. ‘As long as there are people in this world, they will have their problems, and they will come to us to amend their fates. It’s what we do.’
‘I am aware of that,’ she said. ‘But the day I find it easy to look suffering in the eye is the day I worry who I have become.’
‘Good. Never lose a single piece of yourself to this. You’re too important for that.’
Thea frowned as his words sank past her anger. ‘Are you . . . complimenting me?’
‘And when those people regret the prices they have paid, we do not indulge them. Fate is not to be treated lightly, it must be wielded with respect. We do not deal with remorse.’
Thea’s anger crept along her veins. Growing and building and swelling.
When she refused to respond, Jasper handed her a slip of paper. ‘I couldn’t help seeing this on your table earlier.’
She took it, knowing what was written before she skimmed over it:
Abigail, Edith, Annmarie, Jane, Bridget, Georgina, Amy, Helen, Eleanor, Gillian, Mildred, Ruth, Shannon.
Another list of names. They were scattered over her home like dust. Most were used as bookmarks.
Some had been chewed by Cinnamon. Others were in Zofka or Talibah’s handwriting, when they’d offered their own contributions.
All of them forever searching for the right name, the name that would be the golden key, unlocking Thea’s past.
‘The answer is no,’ Jasper said softly. ‘This is not your name.’
‘Which one?’ Thea couldn’t help the bitterness seeping into her tone. She knew her stare was icy, but she had made her feelings towards Jasper clear: she would not forgive him for this.
‘Any of them.’ Jasper pulled his coat back on for the second time that night and took his leave.
Thea spent the following day checking on the key.
The Winter Ball was tonight, and her potion was still brewing.
She distracted herself by alternating between loathing Jasper and wondering how she was going to discover who was behind these threats without having access to her memories.
Several visitors stopped by. Zdenka, who offered their services with their crystal ball again, which Thea politely declined, again.
The skulk of shape-shifters arrived in a pack and vowed they would now patrol three times per day.
Paní Dagmar, who gifted her a protection stone that she’d found in the back corner of her haberdashery.
‘It’s a hagstone,’ she’d told Thea, cackling.
And Sarah, who’d popped round with an armful of kittens, all black with white socks, who’d bumbled playfully around the apothecary and cheered Thea more than any of the others combined.
Nobody mentioned a mysterious fate-weaver and she sent Jasper several ravens, asking when he would warn the rest of the Quarter, or if she ought to.
He had yet to reply and she hoped that signified he was out hunting for more information first.
A second gown arrived. Golden as starlight, it moved like poetry and whispered musical notes with each rustle of satin.
It was incandescent. And when wearing it, Thea felt incandescent too.
Radiant. How reassuring that Malek had ordered such a delectable gown: not for the expense, but because it set off the shine on her golden hair, brought out a deep glow in her skin, coaxed out the gilt in her hazel eyes, like pieces of honeycomb.
He was coming to learn her. Had paid attention to her.
She had been right: he was the better match.
She had no need for a man who frustrated and confused and beguiled her. Not when she had Malek.
‘This is becoming somewhat of a tradition.’ Zofka’s eyes wrinkled with pleasure as she laced the thick silk ribbons of Thea’s stomacher. ‘Maybe you should hire a lady’s maid, someone who understands where all these frills and ruffles go.’
Thea laughed at the notion. ‘A few gowns, gorgeous as they may be’ – she stroked the thick fabric with reverence; it chimed a little harmony at her – ‘do not make me a lady.’
‘You’d make a finer one than most, though,’ Talibah added, straightening Thea’s skirts over the pannier.
Thea caught Talibah’s eyes. ‘You have that look again.’
Zofka shot up from behind Thea. ‘She does?’
‘She does,’ Thea confirmed.
Zofka pointed at Talibah. ‘Tell us everything. Right now.’
Talibah grimaced. ‘It’s impossible to keep anything from you two.’
‘So, where are you hungering to visit this time?’ Thea persisted.
‘Switzerland has been calling me of late.’ Talibah’s gaze turned faraway.
‘I’ve been dreaming of snow-capped mountains and little towns nestled between them.
But I will not leave until this threat to the Magic Quarter has passed and I know in my bones that the two of you are safe, do you hear me?
’ She directed the last words to Zofka, who sniffed and nodded, before flinging her arms around Talibah’s neck.
‘When Jasper was here yesterday evening, he informed me that he’d spotted an old enemy lurking around the wards. A fate-weaver who goes by the name of Heloise, with cropped blonde hair and green eyes. He believes she’s the one who’s been stirring up trouble and setting the Hunters onto us.’
Zofka pursed her lips. ‘What happened between them?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me,’ Thea admitted.
‘Then we don’t know whose side we ought to be on,’ Talibah thought aloud.
‘Jasper’s,’ Zofka said automatically. ‘This Heloise is planning on decimating the Magic Quarter; we’re not on her side!’
‘That’s true,’ Talibah relented.
Zofka resumed dressing Thea.
‘What exactly did Jasper say when he refused to make a new deal?’ Talibah asked, referencing the ravens Thea had sent them late last night when she’d needed to vent.
Thea pulled a face. ‘Stop that,’ Zofka admonished, tapping her on the nose with a brush. ‘You’re my work of art, I refuse to let you ruin the masterpiece I’m creating here.’
‘He said that he does not renege on his deals, then later made some vague commentary on how fate-weavers do not engage with remorse or regret.’ Thea battled to keep the emotion from her voice.
‘I’m sorry,’ Talibah said quietly.
‘We don’t need him,’ Zofka declared, waving the brush as if she were conducting an orchestra. ‘We have our own power, we’re more than capable of figuring this out.’
‘It’s been seven years, and we haven’t figured it out yet,’ Thea said bleakly.
‘I am sorry I interfered with Jasper,’ Zofka said suddenly. ‘I still maintain there is something there, but—’
‘The fact that I kissed Jasper is immaterial. I have no romantic feelings towards him.’
‘You do know witches can taste lies, don’t you?’ Zofka commented calmly.
‘Zofka,’ Talibah warned, watching Thea’s face.
Thea shot Zofka a strong look. ‘Fine. I bear some small attraction to Jasper – you said it yourself, he’s handsome. And something else might have happened between us in the forest after he rescued me—’
Zofka’s head popped up. ‘What—’
‘But he’s also arrogant and authoritative and refusing to return my heart and memories,’ Thea said firmly, before she could ask anything else. ‘I told him I’d never forgive him for that, and I meant it. Besides, I thought you were a kitchen-witch?’
Zofka shrugged. ‘Oh, I’m magical in many ways.’ She wiggled her fingers. ‘Multi-talented, you might say.’ Her smile dropped. ‘You really said that to him?’
‘And really meant it.’ Thea fussed with her skirts.
A gentle press of her hand had her lifting her eyes to Talibah, who had reached across the wide swoop of her gown. ‘Then it is just as well Malek is the one who invited you to the ball.’
An owl perched in a silvered branch outside Thea’s window hooted the hour.
‘Is that the time?’ Thea picked up her skirts and ran downstairs, through the backroom of the apothecary and into her little jungle.
There, the glass-panelled roof revealed a star-spangled sky, each constellation a curiosity she’d never seen before.
But there was no time to sit and wonder at the stars.
Giving her apple tree a quick affectionate rub on its latest creation – a single midnight blue apple that glimmered like a sapphire – Thea bent to the bowl she’d left sitting on her side table.
It glowed like a pearl.
‘That looks ready to me,’ Zofka said, having hurried along, too.
‘Weave your magic,’ Talibah added, appearing in the doorway.
Pulling the bone from the silky mixture, Thea inhaled a trembling breath. The potion was clinging to every groove of bone, wrapping itself around the finger like a robe of moonlight.
She drew up the gossamer strings of fate, knowing from Talibah’s soft sigh that her second-sighted friend saw it, too.
Then, tuning everything out but her intent to make the key for Malek, to admit him into a secret place, to conceal his every footstep, every brush of his hands, every sound, she began knitting threads around the key.
Knotting them into place. And when fate clamoured at her for a price, she whispered not yet, not yet.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Talibah murmured.
Zofka whipped out a brush and dabbed Thea’s forehead. Making the key had devoured a lot of energy, but she wasn’t exhausted with it, as she’d feared. She was exhilarated.
‘Your carriage awaits, my lady,’ Zofka told her.