Page 26 of Night of Death and Flowers

She’s different with my sisters. Perhaps she’s a good mother to them, or at least, as much as she can be.

I slip into my bedroom and light the candles. Furniture emerges from the darkness as candlelight bathes the room in warmth.

Beside my bed, Thorn stands perched on my window ledge. Arabella calls him my pet, but crows require too much freedom to be domesticated.

Thorn hops onto the floorboards, and I lean over him, stroking his silky feathers until my fingertips brush against a rough, foreign texture. He winces, and I tighten my hold, restraining him so I can get a better look.

Upon closer inspection, I notice a tinge of blood on his feathers. “What happened?” I spot a union binding ring on the ground next to him, covered with crystals. Someone must have caught him taking it, then hurt him. “I warned you to stop stealing jewelry from people’s houses.”

He squawks. “Pretty ring.”

I roll my eyes. Quickly, I pull out my collection of dried roots, jars of venom, and other ingredients. While most of my collection is at the abandoned manor house, I keep a small supply here in case of poison related emergencies. But that isn’t the only thing I can do.

I unwrap the cloth, pinching a small amount of Sanare Medicis root, then add a few drops of moon water, until it turns into a paste.

Thorn flinches when I touch the wound. I shoot him a look, and he tilts his head. “It will help,” I promise, then carefully apply a thick layer of the ointment. “I’m not Arabella, but it’ll speed up the healing.”

He perks up on hearing my sister’s name. Footsteps sound outside the door, and I tense. Listening intently, I decipher they are not heavy or forceful enough to be my father’s, or if it’s a maid. My chest tightens, nonetheless.

Arabella opens the door, then coos at Thorn. “Hi, sweet baby.”

He preens his wings back, then ducks his head. Only Arabella sees the softer side of Thorn.

“Mother knows,” I say, then turn to face my sister. “Did you tell them Drake was involved?” I say through gritted teeth, my voice growing louder with each beat.

“No, I didn’t.” Arabella picks at her blonde hair, sprinkled with pink wildflowers, each layer of her hair tied back under the other, creating a wave. “They already knew,” she exclaims. “Everist got a vision in the church when he touched a pew. He knew you were there. He sensed decay magic too, but not who cast it, so I told them someone else was with you and Drake to throw them off your scent. They’re panicking, Cali. You’ve got to stay unnoticed for a while.”

I rub my forehead, smoothing out the lines forming as I stare back at my sister. “This is bad. They’ll likely pin this on some poor innocent witch in Azkiel’s coven and hang them.”

Her hands cover her dainty features, hiding the brim of tears. “I… no…” she mumbles between her fingers. “They won’t. Father won’t let them kill an innocent.”

“Don’t be naïve,” I look at the ground, uneasiness settling in my stomach. “Father will, but there’s nothing we can do about it. I just hope at least Drake left before they stop the ships from disembarking.”

I hold on to the idea that he’s long gone, but not knowing whether he’s safe has me feeling more anxious than ever.

She lowers herself onto my bed. “I’m going to talk to Father, make him see reason.”

“Don’t,” I say wearily, knowing he’ll only see it as an act of defiance. I can’t have her be treated in the same way I am. She must always appear the dutiful daughter. How else will she ever survive this family? “He’ll have no choice but to act,” I explain, each word laced with years of resentment. “Even though the statue is gone, The Choosing is going ahead anyway now that Death has returned. I accomplished nothing.” A frigid chill laces around the back of my neck, and my heart skips a beat. I steady myself, then briefly close my eyes.

“I can’t believe it either.” She pauses, then chews on her lips. “What do you think he’s like?” As she leans forward, the wooden frame of the bed creaks. “The God of Death?”

Leaving my spot, I stroll over the intricately designed rug towards the tucked-away seating area, where I place my feet on the low wooden table. “I really don’t care,” I say, anxiety lacing my words. “But if the elders are terrible, then I can only imagine that he’s even more dreadful.”

She leans against the headboard, admiring the meticulous carvings that depict the goddess of creation. “The God of Death loves his people. We’re safe from the humans because of him. I’m sure he will be magnificent, although, I admit, I am a little afraid of seeing him.”

My eyes widen in astonishment as I turn to her, my nose scrunching up in response. “Yes, we should be. He sends people to be sacrificed. He is a monster!”

She changes position, crossing her legs. “I suppose. But don’t you think it’s for a good reason? I mean, we need the elders.”

“No, we don’t.”

She sighs, then returns the subject to Drake. “Do you think Drake’s left Dahryst yet?”

“I hope so,” I reply, but the knot of fear in my chest only tightens.

“Me too. I’m sorry, Cali. I know you’ll miss him. We both will.”

“Yeah,” I reply weakly. I can’t think about the danger he’s in without going out of my mind. Drake is smart, quick, and resourceful. He has a better chance of evading capture than any of us. “You should rest,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

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