Books and Burglary
Pru waited for Violet at the edge of town, an empty satchel slung over her shoulder and a linen-covered wicker basket in her arms.
“You said you were running an errand,” she said with her Prudence-iest smile. “I thought I’d keep you company!”
But Violet’s nerves wound tight around her heart, kicking her pulse into high gear. She did not want company today. “Pru, you’ve done enough.”
“Please.” Her friend flapped a hand. “All I did was tell you a story, and that wasn’t helping, that was me confirming that you do not listen to my performances at Market Day because I’m pretty sure I’ve told that one at least three or four times since you moved here, so really, you’re the one who owes me. ”
“Maybe later?” Violet squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ll buy you a pint at the Claw she’d walked directly into that.
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” said Pru. “You’ve earned me ten stelle from Fallon!”
That took a moment to sink in, but when it did…“You bet on us?”
“Half the town’s been betting on you two. Quinn was convinced you’d hold out for another month, but I know my brother. He’s great at denying himself what he wants—until he isn’t.”
Violet groaned, her face going even hotter. She snatched a baked good from the basket and shoved it whole into her mouth, but even the buttery, flaky crust and tart rhubarb filling didn’t dispel her embarrassment.
Pru threw her head back and cackled. “You’re wearing his shirt, Violet. Don’t think I wouldn’t recognize it—I’m the one who spilled the tincture that stained the sleeve. You can’t have wanted it to be that much of a secret.”
Violet’s fists bunched beneath the too-long sleeves. The truth—that the shirt smelled like Nathaniel and she wanted to feel comforted as she revisited the castle—felt too private to divulge, so she said, “It’s not a secret, it’s just…new.”
Pru smiled triumphantly, and Violet got the sudden impression that she’d passed some sort of test. “I’m glad for you both. Nathaniel’s been through a lot—I think you’re aware of that.”
Violet nodded, averting her eyes.
“I was always jealous of him, you know. For following his dream. For leaving Dragon’s Rest. I wanted that—I’ve spent my whole life fantasizing about playing my way across the countryside, performing in Lokoa and Belakry and the Shards and everywhere in between.
But then when he came home, and Mum and Da—” She cleared her throat.
“Anyway, it never seemed to be in the cards for me. But he’s doing better now, and I think a lot of that’s because of you. ”
Violet felt uncomfortable in an entirely new way now, one that made her feel warm and cold and light and heavy all at once.
It wasn’t as if Nathaniel had changed, exactly—he was still grumpy and meticulous—but once the sunlight of that focus became trained on her, she found she could bloom.
She rather enjoyed knowing that beneath the buttoned-up alchemist was someone playful who made her work for a smile and challenged her to understand herself and her magic on a different level.
He made her feel like she truly could be better, but more than that—he made her feel like she was already so much better than she saw herself, like she could borrow his belief in her until she believed it too.
She hoped that he felt the same, but she’d never been as good at people as she was at plants.
“I don’t know if I can take responsibility for someone else’s happiness,” she said finally.
“Perhaps not, but you’re a big part of it. And it’s good, really good, to see my brother happy again”—she pulled a face—“even if I never, ever, ever want you to explain the reason behind your redesigned worktable.”
“Oh, moons…” Violet muttered again. She’d cut the majority of the flowers from her accidental garden for bouquets—and Nathaniel, adorably, had insisted on keeping a few for himself—but it was hard to hide the way the table itself had sprouted a few leafy branches, which rained blossoms down on her work area, as well as two extra legs, which admittedly made it much sturdier even if her face went pink as a peony every time she looked at it.
“That’s all I’ll say about it, I promise,” Pru said, and her eyes glittered mischievously.
“For now at least. Just know that the next time you two step foot in the inn, you’re going to be the center of attention in a way that will turn you both as red as one of these raspberry pastries, so either leave Nathaniel at home or let me know you’re going so I can be there to see his face.
Now come on, I’ve always wanted to see what Shadowfade Castle looks like on the inside. ”
So that was how Violet ended up on the steep mountain road with Pru at her side, a trail of flaky pastry crumbs falling behind them like they were marking the way back home.
Was the castle smaller or had Violet only built it bigger in her memories, she wondered as they drew nearer.
Shadowfade Castle looked as dark and imposing as ever, its black stone ramparts shining like onyx in the aftermath of the day’s rain, mist rising from the mountain to cloak it as though its towers pierced the clouds themselves.
She’d lived most of her life behind these walls, and for a long time she thought they would be all she’d ever know.
“So how do we get in?” Pru asked, munching on a pastry, crumbs fluttering to her bodice like autumn leaves on a forest floor.
“The gates are open,” said Violet quietly, gesturing to the sinister entrance, all black wrought iron bent at sharp, jagged angles.
The gates barely hung from their hinges after the Tempest and her crew of heroes had destroyed them, and as she and Pru passed beneath the gaping arch of the wall, Violet shivered, suddenly paranoid that those doors would trap her here once more.
“Oh, wow,” said Pru, and Violet followed her gaze to the southeast gardens, where Violet’s hedge maze, overgrown with two months of neglect, was as vibrant and colorful as ever against the drab darkness of the castle itself. “I don’t think I expected the grounds to be so…gorgeous.”
Violet swallowed around a sudden knot in her throat, feeling strangely touched as well as extremely, unbearably exposed. “Yeah, well, the Thornwitch must have needed something to keep her busy,” she said, her voice strangled.
“The Thornwitch,” said Pru softly, eyes firmly on the greenery, “had a spectacular talent for landscape design.”
Those gardens were once the center of Violet’s life.
And they were huge and gorgeous and grandiose, it was true—but all they made her feel now was sad for the woman she’d been, who had little else to live for.
Violet was struck by the sudden realization that she’d lived more in the past few months in Dragon’s Rest than she had in over twenty years at Shadowfade Castle.
The feeling deepened as they opened the huge oak doors to the castle.
It was musty inside, the air stale with disuse, though there was a cold draft coming from somewhere that swirled around them and made Violet tug her hands back into the sleeves of Nathaniel’s shirt like a turtle retreating into its shell.