CHAPTER THIRTY
Dot gawked at the spectral figure sat upon the bed.
Opal’s angular jaw flexed as she grinned the smile of an addict, her fingers wound gently around the handle of the bread knife.
That smell that clung to her – was that opium?
Dot’s eyes darted around. No, it was woodsmoke, incense, gunpowder, blackberry and, beneath it all, that strange smell of something wet and rotting, of acrid chemicals and pond water.
Opal had eyes like her namesake, but their lustre was dull.
Her hair was limp and dark. Her chest and arms were etched with tattoos just like Casimir’s.
Her mouth quirked at Dot, and recognition sank in.
This was the young woman who had warned Dot about the false monk before Saint Penelope’s Cathedral.
And Dot wanted to ask, You?
Where was the woman of radiance who had been described?
Opal crossed her arms and surveyed Dot, and Dot surveyed her back.
‘Opal,’ said Cate in a hush.
The window was open. The room was icy. Yet, Opal wore a dress of black satin that hung loosely on her emaciated body, revealing much of her chest, and of course those tattoos.
Dot’s eyes trailed along them to the spot above Opal’s heart, where she found the rune she was looking for.
There, engraved in Opal’s chest, was the epicentre of Salamander’s conduence charm.
Dot glanced back at Cate, the mother who at last looked on her living daughter.
Then at Theodora.
Or, perhaps, the person who had been Theodora.
For a diminished creature stared at the girl on the bed holding the bread knife.
Gone was the woman who Dot had met in a dark hallway, the Grand Magician of the King, the painter, the scholar, the one-woman empire.
How bizarre that so much of a person was not in their skin or hair or clothes, but in how they stood and the way they breathed.
Theodora’s eyes were empty. She did not look at Dot. The very last costume had fallen away.
‘You were the one who attacked Belchamber,’ said Theodora quietly.
‘How else did he end up beneath the trapdoor? I am a little surprised you didn’t immediately think it was me – but then you went on and on about my mother having the knife, and who was I to contradict you?’
Theodora stared at the bread knife in Opal’s hand.
‘You had it this entire time,’ said Theodora.
‘Of course I did,’ said Opal. ‘Right in this room, beneath my bed, for years.’ Theodora shut her eyes for a moment. ‘Your talent isn’t wards,’ Opal went on. ‘It is denial. It is running away. It is cowardice, and perhaps stupidity – who else could it have been but me?’
‘Opal,’ said Cate, pleading. ‘Sweetheart.’
‘I told you to shut your mouth,’ said Opal to her mother.
‘One more word and I will cast you out of this house. You helped. You weakened her wards by reconfiguring the runes and I will admit, it made the spell easier for me, and I thank you, but you can go back to the forest now. Your purposes – although unasked for – have been served, Mother.’
Theodora’s face contorted.
‘Oh, don’t look at me like that,’ said Opal. ‘What choice had I? Of course I attacked the spirit. He found out something about Dottie, didn’t he? My master wouldn’t have wanted you lot to have that. I had to do something.’
‘Theo?’ said Dot at last. She had countless questions, but the one that stumbled out of her mouth was, ‘What is this room?’
‘It is rather sad that you have a pet name for her,’ said Opal. ‘Don’t you know what Theo was going to do to you?’
Theodora winced. Cate watched on, her whole body tremoring, too shocked, it seemed, to say a word.
‘She was going to sell my blood,’ said Dot.
Opal laughed nastily. ‘Just your blood? How very naive to think that Salamander would take some paltry phial and not the rest of you.’
Dot felt her heart stutter. She clung to the doorway behind her.
‘Dorothy,’ said Theodora, reaching out her hand.
‘Don’t touch me,’ said Dot, lurching away. Theodora flinched.
‘Opal,’ begged Cate. ‘My love, I—’
‘Your love?’ Opal cackled, rose from the bed and turned elegantly to reveal her back, the satin dress low enough that they could see the violent scars where the bread knife had pierced flesh and fat and bone.
‘I wasn’t your love that night, was I, Mum?
Could have used a sharper blade. A paring blade.
A dagger. Anything would have made for prettier scars than an old bread knife. ’
Cate closed her eyes. ‘I lost my mind,’ she whispered. ‘I misinterpreted my threads. I thought Lio meant to murder you. I never meant to cause you harm.’
Opal snickered and twirled and fell back to the bed.
‘Darling,’ said Cate, ‘I am prepared to spend the rest of my life atoning for what I did but you must tell me – what is this room? Did she keep you locked in here?’
‘How dull-witted you are,’ sneered Opal. ‘Do you really think she could cage me?’
Opal looked at Theodora, and the once-gallant witch shrank under her gaze.
The gesture reminded Dot so extremely of herself that at last she came to understand.
‘This is your doing,’ said Dot slowly to Opal. ‘You made Theodora hide you up here.’
‘I did,’ said Opal, and then she nodded at Cate. ‘I was sick and tired of her chasing me across the continent, scrying for me, badgering me with letters to forgive her. I had to procure a place of residence where I would finally be unbothered by my ridiculous mother.’
Dot’s eyes returned to the conduence spell on Opal’s chest.
‘You work for Salamander,’ said Dot.
‘I do, but do not blame me for your mistress’s debts and poor attention to fine print,’ said Opal.
‘That was all her doing. I might be the only one in this room left with integrity. Here we have one mother who tried to murder her daughter, a witch who lies more than she breathes, and you, Dorothy, who killed your beloved friend because everyone liked her more than you.’
‘Stop it,’ said Theodora, stepping forward, and Dot watched the two women lock gazes in an exchange that held within it histories and heartbreaks and, it seemed, at last, hatred.
‘I gave you a home. I hid you from everyone. I protected you. You told me Cate would kill you. You promised me your work for Salamander would never change your love for me. What – what have you done, Opal?’
Opal smiled. ‘Nothing I regret,’ she said in her matter-of-fact way. ‘Nothing I did not need to.’
‘Did Theodora tell you about Emily?’ asked Dot, her eyes darting between Opal and the witch. Theodora’s brow knitted in hurt.
‘Salamander showed me,’ said Opal, eyeing Dot.
‘Why do you think the daemon is so intrigued by you, Dottie? He knew something strange had manifested in you after your meeting in the King’s menagerie, but once he watched your memories?
Oh, you cannot imagine.’ Opal smiled. ‘But alas, that is not what interests me. I am interested in guilt and atonement. So, as I too have seen your memories, I will tell you something to set your mind at ease. Your deepest fears are correct. Everyone does hate you. You are annoying and plain and awkward and strange.’
‘I am not,’ whispered Dot.
‘You are,’ said Opal. ‘Why, you’d frankly give your left hand to fuck Lio.’
Dot recoiled.
‘Oh,’ said Opal, tilting her head. ‘Was that unkind?’
‘What did you do to her?’ demanded Cate, turning to Theodora. ‘This is not my daughter. She is addled.’
‘I am not,’ said Opal, though her eyes dropped shut for a moment as she spoke. ‘I am simply honest. Ah! Speaking of Dottie’s infatuation . . .’
Dot glanced groggily back. Through the doorway of the wardrobe appeared Lio. His face was ashen as he looked at the figure on the bed in terrible disbelief. Behind him was Rupert, with Belchamber in his arms.
‘I heard your voice,’ Lio mumbled. His hand moved to his mouth. ‘I heard your voice and – you’re—’
‘Stop pretending to be confused,’ said Opal, looking him over. ‘My spell has long worn off and you are fine, Lio.’
‘Your spell?’ asked Lio. ‘What?’
‘Opal,’ said Cate more firmly, coming to her. ‘Come with me. We can return to the coven—’
‘Go back to the forest, Mother,’ said Opal, standing and shoving Cate away. Opal wobbled, then rubbed her temples and tottered to the bookcase. The whole while, Lio shook his head, muttering to himself, and Theodora stood, statuesque, watching it all.
‘I will call for Moira,’ said Cate.
‘I don’t want to see her any more than I want to see you,’ spat Opal.
‘Moira!’ bellowed Cate through the open window. The aged witch stepped out of a portal and into the room.
‘Opal,’ said Moira in that croaking voice, reaching for her. ‘Darling child. What has happened to you? What did she do to you? Do you know what she did to our Agytha?’ Moira threw a vicious look at Theodora.
‘Stop,’ said Opal, turning her back on Moira. She snatched a notebook from under the bed. ‘Had Lio not been his usual, stupid self and run straight to Caelin Forest, neither of you would have known about any of this.’
‘That letter was real,’ whispered Lio. ‘I am the greatest love of your life, Opal. You wrote that to me not months ago.’
‘You were sport, Lio,’ said Opal, ‘and I was bored.’
She took several of the leather-bound books and shoved them into a suitcase.
‘You’re just leaving, then?’ asked Theodora, a touch of anger coming back at last. ‘After what I did for you?’
Opal glanced back at the witch; for a moment, it seemed as if she might offer sincerity and then she simply shrugged.
‘It was simply time to drop the charade,’ said Opal.
‘And you call me a liar,’ said Theodora.
Opal laughed. ‘I heard you. I must have come in right at the end of your tale. You told Dottie everything about us, our time in the forest, but you left out some crucial details, didn’t you?
How I later found you and the tea shop. How you built this room for me and promised to help me and then ignored me.
How you became obsessed with all your little occupations, just to get away from me.
More than me, you loved that stupid spirit, and the red-haired boy, and now this doomed little wretch. ’