Page 24 of Those Fatal Flowers

“Margery…”

“It was right after Dyonis died. I think he was trying to make me feel better, but—” Her voice cracks, and she shakes her head as if pushing away a bad memory. “It’s why they employed me. Master Bailie offered me a position to make it right. After he passed, Mistress Bailie agreed to continue the arrangement—”

“—because she likes the status it brings her—” Emme interjects.

“—and nothing has happened since.”

“But do you feel safe there?” I ask.

“Mistress Bailie is always present.”

“And what if she wasn’t?”

Margery buries her face in the top of Jeremie’s blond curls, and the room falls silent.

“Someone should make sure Cora is all right,” I say softly.

Elyoner bobs her head with approval, though perhaps she’s only eager to see me leave, too. Emme shrugs, and the other ladies give various levels of agreement in their nods and their stares.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Margery says, rising to her feet as well. “I’ll walk with you.”

Outside Emme’s cottage, Cora’s nowhere to be seen. Our conversation gave her plenty of time to put a healthy distance between us. Margery heads north, with Jeremie on her hip. The little boy watches me from over her shoulder; I do my best to ignore it.

I replay the conversation as we duck through the streets, pulling my cloak over my face to keep away unwanted attention. From their own lips, these women think Thomas is dangerous. Poor Cora. The sex between her legs has saddled her with an impossible choice: Either accept the proposal of a violent man for the comfort of food and shelter, or reject it and risk starving, or worse. Neither outcome has the potential for a truly happy future.

The thought darkens my mood, until another counteracts it: Cora’s fate isn’t as set in stone as it seems. When these men return with me to Scopuli, Thomas will either drown beneath the waves or I’ll slit his throat in the ritual cave. Whatever the method, he’ll be dead, leaving Cora free to pursue another destiny. That is, of course, if she wants one.

“Here we are.” Margery stops before another cottage that looks indistinguishable from the two beside it. “The Bailies’ home is a street over that way.”

“Is that where you’re going now?”

“I’ll take Jeremie to Elizabeth’s first, but yes. The Bailies will be expecting their dinner soon.”

“Thank you. For everything today.”

Margery smiles before looking to the doorway. “I can’t promise she’ll be happy to see you.”

“I have a feeling she won’t be,” I say with a laugh. Margery returns it with a smile.

I knock lightly on the Waterses’ front door, but it’s not Cora who answers. It’s Will. A grin overtakes his face when he finds me.

“Lady Thelia! What brings you to my doorstep?”

“I came to see Cora. Is she here?”

“She’s out back feeding the chickens, but I’m not sure now is a good time.”

“I know she’s upset. I wanted to check on her.”

“Ah, yes. The women often pester her with their gossip, but she never tells me what they actually say. Any chance you’ll spill the secret?” He leans against the doorframe and folds his arms across his chest. There’s something effeminate about him, though he conceals it beneath his bravado and exaggerated smile, as if the gentler nature is something he learned to hide long ago. What a loss. That buried softness is the only reason I feel safe standing outside with him alone.

“Cora’s secrets are her own, and I won’t be the one to betray them. May I see her?”

He tosses his head toward the side of the house. “Just go around. You’ll find her.”

“Thank you, Master Waters.”

“Anything for you, my lady.”

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