Page 79 of Mud

Chapter 18

Rosabel La Rouge

Present Day

“You poor thing.”

Poppy was outside the door in the hallway, waiting for me with one of her maids and two guards wearing shiny black suits.

By then the world was spinning so fast in front of my eyes that I had to hold onto the wall just to keep from falling on my face.

“Help me!” Poppy whispered to the maid, and they both moved to either side of me, grabbed my arms and put them around their shoulders, and took me forward carrying all my weight.

Fuck, I must have been feverish again—or maybe justterrified?Even more terrified than when I read that text, or when I had a seven-foot catfairie looking down at me, or when the Tivoux brothers argued about whose turn itwas to torture me, or when Madeline was looking down at me, telling me that my life had an expiration date?

Yes, that last one did it for me. It was the cherry on top of this cake I’d been served these past few days.

Yet I still managed to remain somewhat conscious while Poppy and her maid dragged me down hallways and up stairs. I didn’t miss how the guards followed us close behind, and I most certainly didn’t miss the other two who were already in my room when we entered. Sunlight streamed through the windows, so I saw with perfect clarity, and the two hulking men stationed in each corner at the sides of the doors were very hard to miss.

I burst out laughing.

How veryunlikeRosabelto not be in control of her emotions at all times. How very unlike Madeline’s granddaughter to lose it, to laugh hysterically while tears streamed from her eyes. How very rude of me to let go of my body and let Poppy and the maid carry me to the bed and sit me down because I just couldn’t keep it together anymore. I couldn’t.

“Guards,” I thought I said between laughter and tears. “They are…they are…”Guards.Inside my room.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, turn around! Give us some privacy!” Poppy shouted, and the guards listened. Of course, they did—it was Poppy giving the order.

Madeline didn’t hate Poppy. On the contrary—shelovedPoppy. Poppy’s mother, my aunt, had married the man Madeline had chosen for her—therightman, so now Poppy was worthy of having Rogan blood in her veins.

Unlike me.

But the guards turned to face the wall, and Poppy’s maid went to my bathroom under her orders to fill up mytub, and then Poppy promised me that if I stayed very still, the pain was going to lessen in no time.

That’s why one of the guards from the outside was near the bed now.

We had no studies, no clue what happened to a Mud when exposed to magic, or to an Iridian performing magic on a Mud—but the guard, apparently, had beenpermittedby Madeline to do a healing spell on my leg anyway.

Taland hadn’t cared about what could happen. He’d already healed the worst of my wound, had gotten rid of the infection, just so he could get to kill me instead—and he’d been fine afterward. This Bluefire guard who was waving his wand as he whispered a second-degree healing spell for me would be fine, too.

I imagined Taland was pissed right now. I imagined he wasfuriousthat he had me in his hands, that I went to him on my own like a damn fool, and then I was taken away again. I imagined he was going to be twice as angry now when he came for me, but the joke would be on him because Madeline would have already killed me.

Well—a player in the Iris Roe would.

Then the world would continue to be unaware of what my grandmother’s true face really was, and it would have forgotten about me by the week’s end.

Just like it did my parents.

And perhaps that was for the best.

I lay down on the bed and I closed my eyes as the Bluefire magic slipped under my skin. The spell was done and my body felt…uneasy. It feltwrongfor that magic to be there, even if it was healing me. It felt unnatural, unlike a healing spell should.

But I took it. I no longer laughed, only cried my tears silently. And by the time the guard began to whisper thesecond spell—his magic must not have been particularly strong, so he’d need a couple to make it work—I was halfway gone, wishing with all my heart that I somehow never woke up again.

Iris, I was tired.

So fucking tired of everything—and sadly that’s all I could think about while I sat in the tub, hugging my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them, crying still—but you couldn’t really tell because Poppy kept pouring water over my head, and it was impossible to separate it from my tears.

“Remember when we were in fifth grade and I scratched my back so bad I couldn’t move my shoulders at all?” Poppy said. Not unusual—she loved to fill up silence with memories whenever she could. I said nothing. “We didn’t dare tell Grandma, and we were too young for spells, but it was bad.” She laughed. Her laughter was warm. Flowers and summer, and crackling fire in the fireplace in winter. “You bathed me like this for two weeks. Remember that? Remember how you used to torture me?” She filled up her jug all the way and poured the water over my head all at once, laughing again.

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