Chapter Fifty
Lilith
The scullery maid was the first to wake, yawning as she slowly plaited her wheat-blond hair.
Lilith bristled with impatience.
One day.
She had one day to discover who had betrayed Sybil.
The scullery maid’s tasks were mundane, stacking wood in the hearth to light. Filling a cauldron with water and hooking it
to the crane to hang over the flames, all while still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Lilith listened in the Great Hall for the telltale groan of the floorboards above to announce someone else had roused.
Silence.
Dragon nudged Lilith’s calf, and she bent to stroke him. “I need your help today, bud.”
He squinted up at her, and she rubbed the underside of his chin, earning her a grateful purr.
A creak came from above.
Someone else was awake.
A final glance back in the kitchen confirmed the scullery maid was still setting about her mundane chores. Lilith took off,
booking it up the stairs.
On the top floor, three maids moved around rooms, and two male servants did likewise down the hall.
The buxom maid named Bess was clearly in charge, ordering the women about as they made their beds and dressed, lacing one
another’s gowns and pinning their caps into place. Bess didn’t flinch as she entered the men’s room despite their state of
partial undress, ordering that the corners on beds be tucked tighter.
Within minutes, the five descended the stairs and dispersed in opposite directions.
This was what Lilith feared the most. She was one person, tasked to monitor a household with almost a dozen servants in the
manor and another in the barn.
She looked to Dragon, deferring to his sage wisdom, but his head moved back and forth at each departing person, just as confused.
Lilith withdrew a stone from her pocket, one she’d initially mistaken for quartz. Upon closer inspection, she had noticed
splotches of yellow, like tea stains embedded in the stone. Citrine.
Or yellow quartz as it had been known in the seventeenth century. Notable for its ability to bring good fortune and prosperity,
increasing the likelihood of success.
The pink necklace pouch was still in contact with her body, stuffed in her bra to keep the contents against her skin.
Lacking any other receptacle for the new enchantment, she cupped the stone in her palm and added a sprinkling of bay leaves
for success. She reached into her pocket and took out a pinch of cinnamon.
She sprinkled the cinnamon powder into her palm and the concoction pulsed to life with warmth.
The whisper of the earth was too quiet. She stepped out of her shoes, letting her bare feet touch the floorboards.
It wasn’t the same as having the naked earth against her soles, but the telltale vibration still echoed through her regardless.
Show me what I need to see.
She folded her hand around the mix of herbs, crushing them to the stone. Her brows pursed with concentration.
Show me what I need to see.
The world around her sharpened.
Show me what I need to see.
Footsteps were discernible, not only where she stood, but on all the floors of the manor. The damp air stirred with movement.
The savory scent of the roasting meat that would be dinner mingled with the yeasty aroma of bread being kneaded, along with
the herbal notes of the rushes on the first floor.
The house came alive in a concert of activity, and she was in tune with every note. Every pitch.
The padding of four delicate paws drew her eyes open.
A birdlike chittering sent Dragon racing off to Jacinda’s room. Lilith followed, finding the girl standing by the window in
a long white nightgown.
“I received the letter you wrote for me in the grimoire,” Lilith confessed.
Jacinda turned, mouth parting in surprise. “The letter?”
Lilith touched the birthmark on her arm. Jacinda had not written the letter yet—at least not in any way that obeyed time.
Something in Lilith told her to be vague in her reply. “It was a warning…an apology.”
Jacinda watched her with unease, as if something Lilith said pressed against a truth that had not yet formed.
“We need to find who denounced Sybil, like you said.” Lilith took a slow steadying breath. “I’m running out of time and so is Sybil.”
Jacinda pulled a cloak on over her nightdress. “I’ll help.”
Lilith and Jacinda separated with Lilith starting on the first floor.
Three maids were in the kitchen, the scullery maid cutting a piece of knobby root—ginger by its sharp scent. Bess stood by
the young maid named Anne, whose face was almost as pale as the white cap covering her dark hair.
“Mayhap something I ate…” Anne moaned.
Bess’s mouth tucked back at the corners. “Go on and have a lie down if you must.”
“I’ll be fine.” Anne’s slender hand rested on her stomach. “I’m feeling better already.”
The scullery maid shoved the bit of ginger at Anne, who eagerly put it in her mouth to suck.
Bess narrowed her eyes, hands fisting on her hips. “Is there something I ought to know, Anne?”
The maid widened her brown eyes and shook her head vigorously, setting her mob cap flopping almost comically against her narrow
face. “Just something I ate.”
Bess nodded, her action slow and measured with skepticism. “Off with you now.”
Anne nodded, color showing in her pale cheeks as she rushed off so fast, she nearly ran through Lilith.
Lilith darted back in time to avoid the unwanted collision.
A place inside Lilith’s gut twinged, drawing her attention to how Anne gently held her lower stomach, as if cradling something
precious. Exactly the way Essie had done when she was pregnant with Amara.
Likely Anne would be someone to follow. No sooner had the thought nagged at Lilith than the scullery maid gave a sly look toward Bess, who was busy watching Anne depart.
That sly look caught at Lilith’s conscience, pulling her back. Surely such an expression was not unwarranted.
Bess bustled from the room in that officious way of hers, leaving Lilith alone with the scullery maid.
A shadow passed by the window as a figure strode swiftly by.
The scullery maid snuck over to a door with a key jutting from its lock. She clicked the handle, shoulders flinching at the
sound before the larder creaked open. With one last glance over her shoulder, she slipped inside, taking a lit candle with
her.
Lilith followed her into the small space, hating how voyeuristic it felt to be watching someone who didn’t know of her existence.
Especially when the hunch to the scullery maid’s shoulders seemed like a reflexive instinct from that primitive part of the
brain that lets someone know they’re being observed.
The maid shifted a jar and drew something toward her. Lilith leaned around the woman to see what it was.
Another jar, one that revealed glossy orange spheres in a syrupy liquid when the lid was removed. The fragrant perfume of
peaches filled the air.
The scullery filched one out, pinching the slippery fruit between her thumb and forefinger before letting it drop in her open
maw. Her eyes closed in pleasure as she chewed, savoring that simple extravagance in a way that made Lilith wonder if she’d
ever eaten something she’d enjoyed with as much pleasure.
The door opened and Sybil entered, her form clearer than Lilith had ever seen her. No longer a ghost from the past, but a
real person—living, breathing. Someone in need of saving.
Sybil’s dark hair was lustrous where it hung down her back in a thick braid. Golden light from the rising sun spilled into the room and caught at the gleaming strands.
“Good morrow, Elspeth.” Sybil’s voice was lightly husky, adding to her commanding presence in a way that felt both authoritative
yet welcoming.
Elspeth gulped down the fruit, a line of juice trailing from the corner of her mouth.
“I came down for some ginger and saw the door was open.” Sybil smiled, her eyes compassionate, avoiding the open jar of preserved
peaches. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Elspeth shook her head. “Not at all, ma’am. There’s some ginger on the block I can get ye. Are ye feeling poorly?”
“No, it’s for a basket I’m making for someone.”
Elspeth looked at her feet. “I was stealing a peach, mum.”
“I know,” Sybil said kindly. “I won’t tell Bess.” Then she closed the door softly, and the sound of her footsteps clicked
away.
The young woman was honest.
Too honest.
Lilith knew with utmost certainty that Elspeth was not who she sought. And from Sybil’s reaction to seeing the scullery maid
stealing what was likely valuable food back then, it was likely Sybil didn’t make many enemies in their home.
Who would denounce her as a witch?
Lilith slipped back into the kitchen, heavy with regret. She had followed the wrong thread.
Dragon raced around the corner and dashed a quick loop around Lilith’s bare feet, then darted off once more. Clearly wanting
her to follow him outside.
Lilith exited the house through a smaller, plainer door meant for the servants and drew back with an audible gasp.
Anne, the sick maid, stood outside, in the shadows of a stack of firewood. She spoke animatedly to a figure in dark clothing.
Lilith went still, frozen where she stood.
She knew that man.
The one from her dreams. The one who would arrest Sybil within hours.
The magistrate.