Chapter Eight #2
“Yes, we had a very tight-knit group, the four of us. Unfortunately, it was not meant to last, and I’m sorry to say I haven’t spoken to Lilibeth in a long time. How is she?”
“She’s— Wait, the four of you?”
I’m so eager to hear something about my mother’s past, about anything she’s been reluctant to tell me, that my heart pounds behind my ribs, cake left forgotten on the plate.
“Yes, four. Lilibeth, Morgana, Fern, and I. You’ll know her as Queen Fern now.”
My mother and the queen? Friends? Then why does my mum refuse to talk about her?
Wait. Morgana?
My hand shoots to my throat.
“What happened?” I plead. “Please.”
“If Lilibeth hasn’t shared any stories with you, then I shouldn’t either. It’s not my place.”
“No, please. She’s barely told me anything, even when I ask. I only know that Morgana—”
I stop. If the four of them were friends, but now live like less than strangers—one overwhelmed with paranoia, one protected by magical wards, one living in mystery outside the kingdom…and my mum, guilt-ridden and secretive. There had to have been a catalyst. A catalyst as big as a dark curse.
“It all fell apart after Morgana cursed me, right?”
“A lot happened,” Ruth says. “We all made mistakes and lost things we held dear. Sadly, the rift became too vast to heal. I’m glad you came here today, Fliss. I’m grateful for this chance to get to know you now.”
My chest pangs. It must have been awful…. I couldn’t imagine falling out with Card to the point where he isn’t in my life anymore. I mean, it’s hard to get rid of him as it is.
“Um, I know that the difficult times might be hard to talk about, but I’d quite like to hear some stories of my mum and her friends before the fallout. If that’s okay.”
Ruth beams.
It must be an hour later, certainly after midday, when Ruth finishes up a story about Mum and Fern climbing a tree so high that they got stuck and had to shout for the guards to come and help. I’m helpless with laughter, and there’s a joyful pink glow to Ruth’s cheeks.
“It wasn’t until they were back on the ground safely that Morgana told us she knew a spell to float them down.
Fern went ballistic. Garland, the current king, had summoned a magical bubble to get her out of the tree while all the guards watched on.
He was crown prince at the time. We all knew Fern had a huge crush on him and she was mortified.
But Morgana was always like that, tricks up her sleeves that she didn’t reveal until the last moment,” Ruth says, finishing off her second slice of cake—blueberry jam and vanilla sponge this time.
“My gosh, I can’t imagine the queen stuck in a tree.” I laugh. “That’s amazing!” Definitely something I’ll call to mind next time she has me stuck under scrutiny in that foxglove-filled room. She wasn’t always so stern. She was once a teenager in a tree.
Ruth starts to top up our cups.
And the front door opens behind her.
Will strides through the doorway in a brown leather jacket, his hair windswept and a sheen on his skin from the midday sun.
He kicks the door closed with his heel and doesn’t notice me until he’s taken a few steps into the room.
His eyes meet mine and he halts like he’s been caught off guard, like he’s unsure if he’s imagining me.
Gill, who fell asleep by my feet a long time ago, instantly pads toward Will and taps a paw on his boots. It’s not enough of a distraction.
“Fliss,” he says. “You’re here.”
“Yes. I am,” I reply. Then kick myself. Obviously.
Thank the gods for Ruth.
“Would you like some cake? Fliss was kind enough to bring some over for us, along with these beautiful flowers.”
Will pushes his hair back, and I find myself watching the way the waves fall into place behind his pierced ears.
“Of course there are flowers,” he mutters loud enough for us to hear, then heads to the kitchen. He downs half a glass of water and leans against the kitchen counter, one ankle kicked over the other.
“Do you not want them?” I ask, with what I hope is a bite of mockery.
“I couldn’t wish for anything more,” he replies melodramatically, then finishes the rest of his drink. “There’s cake?”
“Join us. How was Wendy?” Ruth asks.
Will takes a seat to my left and Gill hops onto his lap.
“She’s fine. Please don’t make me go again soon, though,” he complains. “She wouldn’t stop showing me her antique collection. I’ve heard the same stories a thousand times. And then I had to dodge a patrol of guards on my way back. I’m surprised I made it back before sunset.”
“She’s very proud of that collection,” Ruth says, and passes Will a napkin of cake.
It’s so surreal to see him here, with his mother, slouching at his own dining table, picking at a dent in the wooden tabletop and venting about chores.
All the gossip and commotion, the way Bastion treats him like his worst enemy…
it’s all very at odds with what I’m witnessing here.
The thought that Bash could be wrong about so much doesn’t fill me with comfort.
Will lifts the napkin and looks at the contents with quizzical eyes.
“Where on earth did you get this, Farrow?” he asks.
“I…I know some people who had plenty of leftovers.”
“Well,” he says to Gill on his lap, “we must be grateful that Felicity fell down that cliff, then, if the end result is a mountain of cake.”
Cocky little—
“Will,” Ruth warns, with a fondness that I’ve rarely heard when my own mother scolds me. He shoots her a sheepish grin.
“Have you remained injury free recently?” he asks me.
“Somewhat.”
“I was actually thinking about you the other day.”
I have to catch myself from tipping my cup over and burning myself with hot tea.
“You were?”
“I heard Reed’s supply wagon was heading to Mithian from Hemlor. It’s en route through Lucan right now,” he says. I wait, unsure what this has to do with Will and his thoughts of me. I would very much like to know.
“Oh, wonderful,” Ruth says. “I hope he has some stock left. Queen Clover might buy it all up for her garden again.”
“What kind of stock?” I ask.
“Every now and then a trader brings foreign flowers to Mithian,” Ruth explains. “Do you know it? It’s a small village on the edge of the northern mountains, just before the border to Senred. The trader is old friends with the florist up there, so he occasionally loops around to drop some off.”
I frown. I’ve never heard of such a wagon.
“Why doesn’t the trader stop off in the citadel?” I ask. The queen is always promising the best deliveries of flowers in exchange for the use of my curse. Not that I can refuse her calls, but at least I occasionally get something in return.
Will picks a white strand of cat hair off his jacket.
“Funnily enough,” he says, “people in Mithian don’t have a lot of warmth for the citadel these days. The trader would rather travel all that way himself to ensure his products actually make it up there.”
It reminds me of what Pigeon said. That our royal family hasn’t been sharing as many supplies with the north of Alrick as they used to.
“How far away is Mithian?” I ask, clasping my hands together. “Is it within a day’s walk? Do you know how to get there? When will the wagon arrive?”
Will looks at me with an amused smile at the corner of his mouth, like he’d predicted my questions.
The strangest feeling washes over me, like gravity took a breath to lighten its weight.
The workshop behind him is out of focus.
It’s only Will and that stupid annoying smirk that knew I would do almost anything to get my hands on those flowers.
“Will, why don’t you take Fliss up there one day?” Ruth suggests. “You’re always saying you want to be more useful.”
My heart rate rockets. A day with Willoh Vane. A whole day.
“Sure, why not?” Will says, then leans an arm over the back of his chair. I shoot him a look. Is he serious? He’s actually fine with this? “If you think you can survive a two-hour walk without injuring yourself.”
Oh, there’s the witty remark.
“I think I can manage,” I say.
“Great,” Ruth says, and stands up holding the empty teapot. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Fliss?”
I shouldn’t. Coming here in the first place was a risk.
Bash would kill me if he knew, but the more I learn about Will, the less I trust Bash’s side of the story.
And the less I want him to marry my best friend.
Not to mention that the queen would torture me to find out every detail of my time here, even if it only involves sitting and having tea with one of her childhood friends.
If I stay longer, I’ll have more to hide.
And Card knows me too well. If I get back too late…
I’ll never be able to keep this day a secret.
I open my mouth to politely refuse, and the truth comes out.
“I’d love to.”