Chapter Thirty-Two #2
had taught me to make, carefully outlining their formulations in her journal, but there was one I didn’t recognize, A Dance
of Delight, which, per the Treasury, filled one with an almost effervescent joy, at the cost of either the fairy plant sunleaf
or a measure of your own happiness.
“Is that all?” I muttered. It struck me again how cruel these bargains were, as if the magic itself were punishing us for having lost the gift of the flora the fairies had left us.
I turned through the pages, idly skimming the formulations, magic and otherwise, until one took my notice. A blaze of excitement
lit through me, vaulting my heart to my throat. I reached for a clean apothecary bottle and began to search the shelves for
the necessary ingredients.
I finished blending it just as the sunlight deepened its golden hue, heralding the arrival of late afternoon. As I cleaned
up, a playful yelp from outside the window drew me over to its warm glow.
There, scrambling up and over a garden bench, were two fox kits. They seemed to bask in the day’s sunshine, their chocolate
coats gleaming with the hint of red they would grow into. One pounced on the other, rolling them off the stone seat and into
a bed of dahlias. Two more darted out of the ivy, joining the yipping tangle.
I became aware of him slowly, the way one rouses from a deep sleep to find it’s morning. I reached up, toying with my quizzing
glass, unable to bring myself to turn. After last night, and what had almost occurred between us, excitement and nerves had
blended themselves into an accord of shyness—a word I never would have associated with myself before.
His reflection darkened the glass as he came forward, placing something—a cup of tea—on the worktable. I knew by the smell
it would be exactly as I liked it: nutmeg brown with the added milk, and only a dash of sugar. My heart swelled painfully
at the realization of how closely he’d been paying attention, even at breakfast.
“I thought you might need this,” he said, coming around to stand beside me at the window. As he looked through the diamond
panes, I stole a glimpse of him. Despite his obvious exhaustion, a small smile curled his lips at the sight of the kits.
“Four this year,” he said softly. “Any names yet?”
“Not yet,” I answered. “Titania is a leading choice for one.”
His gaze found mine. “How appropriate.”
The Queen’s connection to my fairy ancestor, and the first creation of Immortal Rose, had struck me, too.
“Is it true?” I asked him. “About Eleanor and . . .”
I couldn’t bring myself to say the rodent’s name.
Hugh dragged a hand over his face. “Yes. The Instrument of Consent is real, and a handful of the Privy Council witnessed His Majesty sign and put his seal to it.”
“How is that possible?” I asked. “How can he have that power over the King?”
We had come back around to the initial question that had plagued Hugh.
“He must have discovered something after he became home secretary,” Hugh said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned
back against the counter. “Some deeply embarrassing secret the King refuses to bring to light.”
I picked up the cup of tea and took a grateful sip. Perfect.
“Glenmoor has taken over preparations for the palace’s Midsummer Ball tomorrow evening,” Hugh said. “I hadn’t planned on attending,
but it may be my last opportunity to expose him before the King is fully incapacitated.”
Propriety and common decency be damned, not even the pallor hanging over the city with the King’s ill health could dissuade
the Patricians from partaking in the sparkling wines and revelry. I had no great love for the King of Albion, but the toffs’
willingness to look the other way disgusted me.
The rim of my teacup froze against my lips. “I suppose the invitation doesn’t extend to me?”
Hugh shook his head. “I can’t imagine willingly subjecting you to it.”
I made a small noise of irritation. There would be time to have this argument later. Right now, there was a more pressing
fight to be had.
“Regardless, I’m coming with you to Ardent’s,” I told him.
Hugh pushed off the counter. “Absolutely not.”
“How will you find and identify the nectar and differentiate it from the other oils?” I challenged. “Have you forgotten the
bottles aren’t labeled? Or were you just planning on taking all of them and hoping no one heard them clattering as you made
your escape?”
He opened his mouth, then promptly shut it, only to open it again. That was exactly what he had been planning. For all his cleverness, he was still a man.
“I need to go,” I told him. “Can you understand that? I need to prove to myself he doesn’t have power over me anymore. The
fact that he’s my father horrifies me more than you, believe me.”
“Nothing about you horrifies me,” Hugh said, then gestured to the oil bottles lining the tables. “Except maybe your use of expressed glands in perfume.”
Damn him, I wouldn’t laugh. And I wouldn’t soften, either.
“The King is hallucinating now, isn’t he?” I asked. “He is barely able to take food or water.”
Hugh’s jaw clenched. Bloody hell. For once I’d hoped to be wrong.
“After today, he’ll have two days left, if even that,” I said. “I understand your concerns, but we have no more time to waste.”
Hugh whirled on me. “No. If he’s there, and he takes you—”
Foxcourt cut himself off with a ragged breath, bracing his hands on the table and hanging his head.
“There will be an answer one day,” Hugh said. “There will be an answer for daring to come into my home, for threatening you.
But it cannot be today.”
“I’m coming, Foxcourt,” I told him firmly. “I will sneak in after you, if I have to.”
His body tensed, the muscles strained beneath his jacket, pulling at the fabric. “Back to Foxcourt now, is it?”
I stared at him, understanding slow to arrive and embarrassment all too quick. When had I stopped referring to him by his title? I traced back over the last few days, but the change had come on so subtly, had felt
so natural, it was impossible to tell for sure.
“How am I meant to protect you,” he began roughly, “if you remain so willing to walk into every lion’s den? It’s my fault
he discovered you in the first place. I should have anticipated—”
“That my father would be a ruthless crime lord?” I said. “Like I should have anticipated there’d be two infamous assassins
and notorious child gang leaders, one a noted forger, in this house?”
Hugh eased back from the counter, looking more tired than before, if that were possible. His gray eyes were imploring.
“I won’t breathe a word about them to anyone,” I promised him. I would protect them as fiercely as they had protected me.
“I know you won’t,” he said. “But they’ve all suffered in their lives. You have suffered in your life. I cannot tolerate the thought of anything happening to them, or to you.”
“You deserve that same care,” I told him. “You deserve more than just the strength to endure and protect everyone around you.”
He made a small, dismissive noise, crossing his arms over his chest.
“But you know I’m right in this,” I said. “I need to come with you tonight.”
Hugh let out a sigh, looking cross. “Yes, damn you, I know you’re right—but don’t ask me to like it.”
I hid my smile as I reached for the flacon of perfume I’d finished blending just before his arrival. I set it down on the
worktable between us.
“I cannot help you with Immortal Rose, you know this,” he said softly.
“This isn’t Immortal Rose,” I said.
His brow furrowed. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached for it, lifting the bottle by its delicate neck. “Will this give
me claws and scales? Because I might deserve that.”
The bastard deserved a tail, too, for what he’d put me through.
I made my way around the table to the door, and he knew better than to stop me. The loveliest scent of blackberries, lemon,
and tea leaves whispered into the air.
I looked back as Hugh inhaled sharply. His profile had gone slack, his eyes losing all their usual intensity. There was a
heartrending softness to his face, the boy he had once been daring to surface, only for a moment. His shoulders hunched, as
if his whole being was trying to bring that scent closer.
There was a loneliness to survival, to being the one left to remember, while the remembered slipped away more with each day.
If I could give him nothing else, I could give him this.
“I found the formulation in the Treasury and thought it might be the one.” I was speaking to his back now. “Tonight, then.”
And with that, I left him to commune with the ghost of his mother’s memory.