Page 57 of Those Fatal Flowers

Agnes turns to me.

“Certainly breakfast isn’t ready yet?” She’s beautiful, almost handsome, with soft blond locks framing her face, her piercing eyes watching me smugly from underneath a thin brow. Her smirk is relentless. I see where Thomas learned his.

“What did you do to Will?”

She seems surprised by my boldness, but instead of admitting any wrongdoing, she closes the gap between us and reaches out to stroke the side of my face, her smirk morphing into a hideous grin. The gesture catches me by surprise, and I pull my head away in disgust. Her fingers twist around a lock of my hair.

“What an awful thing to suggest, Lady Thelia,” she murmurs. “Will was like a son to me. He was Thomas’s closest friend…Although, this does technically mean that Thomas is now the winner of your hand.”

“You vile—” I begin, but she slaps me across the face, hard. The sting sends me stumbling back in shock.

“That sounds like disrespect,” she says as she turns to continue dressing. “Which will no longer be tolerated.”

“How dare you raise your hand to me!”

“Who will punish me?” She laughs. “By your own admission, Scopuli is dying. You need Thomas.” Her words are true, but she’ll never understand why. “Unless that’s all a lie.”

“I need a husband. It doesn’t have to be Thomas.”

“Choose another, then. Winter is dangerous here—hopefully he survives it.”

The threat is clear; it makes my throat tighten. “What about Cora…?”

“It’s a pity, really. She would’ve made a more compliant wife, and certainly a prettier one. But her hand doesn’t come with a fortune, and yours does.”

“You’ll pay for this,” I hiss, far enough away from Agnes that I’m safe from another slap.

“We’ll see.” She pulls on her stockings, completely unbothered by my warning. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a search party to organize.”

“How could you? He loved Thomas.”

“Then perhaps this is God’s punishment,” she says, then ushers me back into the hall. “May the Lord have mercy, or else he’ll burn for it.”

The door slams shut in my face. My entire body trembles as I retreat to my quarters, where I push a chair against the door for good measure. Now that the Bailies believe I’m Thomas’s property, who knows what they might do, even in the light of day.

I pace back and forth between my bed and the fireplace, mind racing. Cora will never forgive me for this, and the thought is so unbearable that it nearly brings me to my knees. My fingers find the mantel’s edge to keep myself from toppling to the ground, and I spot her there—my little spiderfriend weaving a new web. Her presence doesn’t bring the peace it usually does. I believed us so similar, but now, as my chest feels as hollow as one of the countless carcasses I’ve processed, I understand how different we truly are. This fierce little creature would never be foolish enough to get tangled in such a mess. She was born knowing the painful lesson I’ve refused to stomach these past few weeks: Sometimes, it’s best to hunt alone.

I am, once again, entirely on my own, but gods, it hurts so much worse like this—with Will gone and Cora lost. Though it’s painfully clear that, unlike this spider, I am no predator without my sisters.

The best I can hope for now is to not become prey.

13

Before

Thelia!

Thelia…!

“Thelia?”

I sit upright with a start. My hand rushes to my heart; it burns with terror, and it hurts to breathe. Pisinoe rests beside me, and she rubs my back, coaxing me into consciousness, into leaving the dream world behind.

“You were whimpering. It sounded like a nightmare,” she coos, pulling my head to her chest. I nod and slide my arms around her waist.

“Was it about Proserpina again?”

Ah, yes. Jaquob’s tale’s distortion of Dis is only a new twist in a recurring nightmare, but the image of that emaciated face and those bloodied lips has me shaken. I nod again.

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