Chapter 41 #3
“What if this love potion is related to the murders?” I said, beginning to pace.
“What if Oriane is the murderer? What if she’s the witch?
” Even the Crow had thought Lord Hywell’s body was marked in preparation for a dark spell or potion.
If forcing someone to love you against their will wasn’t dark magic, I didn’t know what was.
And what was it Oriane had said at the ball?
“Mark my words, he’ll start craving someone new and you’ll be tossed out like last week’s fish stew.
” She’d tried to slice me with her words, when, instead, she’d handed me the weapon.
I’d been too concerned with winning the battle to see her insult for what it was: an admission.
She knew what I was. She had to be the murderer.
“Oriane couldn’t be a witch,” scoffed Hugo.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked, taking a break from my pacing so I could fix him with a skeptical look.
He folded his arms on his desk and leaned forward. “After all these years, I think we’d know if she was a witch,” he said.
“Not necessarily,” I challenged, crossing my arms.
“Fine, it’s possible that she’s secretly a witch,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“But can you agree that it’s just as plausible that she’s a mortal who somehow got her hands on the instructions for a love potion?
You don’t need to be a witch to brew a potion, if you’ve got access to the ingredients. ”
He was right, damn it. “Agreed,” I said with a dismissive wave. “I still think she’s the murderer though.”
As if only just catching up to the conversation, Magnus laughed. “Wait. Are you truly saying you all believe the murderer is a witch? And you think that this witch could be Ori?”
My nostrils flared. “Need I remind you that you’re the one who suggested Oriane has bewitched Tarben?”
“It’s just funny because Hywell was talking about witches the night he was murdered,” he said, helping himself to a fresh drink.
Hywell was talking about witches before his murder? That seemed too strange to be a coincidence. “And you didn’t think to mention it until now?” I said through gritted teeth. He simply shrugged. “Well? What did he say? Tell us everything.”
“How in Seru’s name do you expect me to remember everything? I was as fucked as an Elf at midsummer.”
“Try. Please?”
He scratched his beard and squinted as if very deep in thought. “Let’s see. All he said was that he knew a witch and how this kingdom is full of secrets.”
“What else?”
“I don’t know. He began to ramble on about going fishing on an island of pine trees and I stopped listening. Actually, I went to introduce myself to a lovely lady in a swan mask who liked it when I put my tongue in her—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I warned.
He shrugged as if to say, suit yourself. “Now, are you going to explain why you think the murderer is a witch?”
I looked at the others. Their silent nods told me Magnus could be trusted, so I talked. I explained our theory and told him what we had discovered at Basia’s cottage, with Hugo and Filip occasionally chiming in. When I was finished, I handed the grimoire to Hugo.
“Ah,” said Magnus. “So that’s what the two of you were doing in the forest that day. To be honest, I thought you’d both gone mad with your tale about giant dog-beasts.”
“They were very real. Show him,” I said to Filip.
“Fuck me,” Magnus whistled as he examined the page on the maglocunos. “You think Oriane sent this thing to hunt you?”
Filip, Hugo and I exchanged glances.
“It’s possible—”
“I have my own theories—”
Hugo and I spoke at the same time. Filip just shook his head.
“There are instructions for a love potion in here,” said Hugo, pointing to an open page in the grimoire. “It doesn’t mention anything about symbols and it certainly doesn’t require the use of body parts. Only a strand of hair from the object of your desire.”
My heart sank as I slumped into a chair. “She could be brewing a different love potion?”
“It’s possible,” said Hugo, eyebrows knitting together.
My eyes widened as another thought occurred to me.
“What if Oriane went to Basia for the ingredients?” I asked, thinking of the missing glass jars and vials in the witch’s cottage.
“Basia must have refused to help her, so Oriane killed her. It all adds up.” Proud of the conclusion I had drawn, I looked at Hugo for confirmation.
“This is all speculation at this stage,” he said, frowning deeply. “We first need evidence before we can make any accusations about her being the murderer.”
But how were we going to get it? The blood began to pump faster in my veins as I remembered the wedding was tomorrow. Time was not on our side. “You’re right. We need to find evidence before it’s too late. And if it’s true, we need to stop the wedding.” The others nodded in agreement.
“We must tread carefully,” said Hugo. “If Oriane really is capable of murder, that makes her extremely dangerous and likely unhinged. And if Tarben is under the influence of a love potion, he won’t believe us unless we have undeniable proof.
And I think there may be only one way to get it—we go straight to the source. ”
I sat up straighter, Filip stiffened, and Magnus helped himself to a grape from the fruit bowl sitting on top of the low-lying table, throwing it in the air and catching it in his mouth.
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“I’m saying, we need to search Oriane’s quarters. If she’s hiding something, that’s the place it’s most likely to be.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and leaned back in my chair. “How do you propose we do that?”
Before he could respond, Magnus chimed in. “I have an idea.” He smirked at the look of skepticism that was mirrored across our faces. “Send for some food and drink, Hugh. It’s going to be a long night.”