Page 75 of Those Fatal Flowers

The words make my throat tighten—shouldn’t I know that better than anyone? I was innocent once, too, until the cruelty of men molded me into something else. This child, who never took a breath, is blameless.

It’s all right to love him.

All at once, the walls I’ve built around my heart come crashing down, and the tears for Will now fall freely with tears for my son.

“Take care of my sister,” he adds, nodding to Cora. The sound, combined with my crying, is enough to draw her from her slumber.

“Who are you talking to?” she asks gently, rubbing hereyes. I don’t know how to answer, so I look to the chair only to find that it’s empty. Will is already gone.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Cora pulls me back to the mattress and holds my head against her chest. “Shh…” she murmurs, not entirely awake. “It’s all right.”

I want to tell her it’s not, but the warmth of her hands cradling me says otherwise. I allow myself to sink into her embrace, to be comforted by the scent of her, roses mixed with the sweetness of her sweat. Despite everything, it works.

This time, we fall asleep together.

In the early light of dawn, I confirm what I suspected last night: that this is a healer’s home, not a witch’s. Lions and wolves made docile by magic aren’t guarding its perimeter, at least as far as I can tell, and I don’t see any of the usual magical instruments—no looms, no wands, no altars to Hekate. No poisons grace the rafters. But there’s no denying that some magic must reside within Sybil. She recognized that I’m beyond human. So the gift of sight, then. The corners of my lips curl at the injustice—this woman, now old and alone, lives on society’s edge for her own safety, and yet she took me in without question. She saved my life. How many other villagers has she treated under the cloak of night only to be abandoned again come morning?

The people here fear those whom they do not know to the point of treachery. They despise women who seek knowledge. They subjugate, rape, and murder those who possess what they want. Just as with Jaquob, I cannot ignore their cruelty any longer. It’s time for me to take Sybil’s words to heart.

I can’t avoid my fate.

It’s a lesson I should have learned centuries ago.

All I can do now is shake Cora’s shoulder gently to wake her. She rolls away from me, a long groan passing from her lips. I want nothing more than to watch her like this, in the dim light that filters through wooden slats that cover the windows. It’s the first time in months I’ve seen her so peaceful—how easy it would be to let the gentle rise and fall of her back pull me to her side, to bury my face in that raven hair. Instead, with a lump rising in my throat, I try again.

“Cora, we need to go back…”

She grunts in response but pushes herself onto an arm, wiping the sleep from her eyes with her free hand. An awkward silence sits between us.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I whisper. “For trying to save him.”

She turns to look at me. Her face is open, her forehead creased with guilt. “I’m sorry. For how I treated you after Will…It wasn’t your fault, I know that, but I wanted someone to blame so badly…”

“Shhh,” I coo, placing my hand on the side of her face. She nuzzles into my touch, and heat blooms in my cheeks. “You don’t have to apologize…I hope this means we can be friends again. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” she breathes, and despite the sorrow that has settled within my bones, I smile softly. She returns mine, but then her teeth find her bottom lip.

“Was there something else?” I ask softly, but before she can respond, Sybil opens the cabin’s creaking door and steps inside. The old woman holds three squirrels by the tail in one hand and a hare in the other, and Cora’s eyebrows rise with surprise.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Sybil says as she places theanimals on the wooden table. When she sees Cora’s shocked expression, she winks at us both. “If you can stay a little longer, I’ll send you on your way with full bellies. Lord knows you girls had a trying night.”

We nod ravenously, which makes Sybil laugh. She makes quick work of processing her game, throwing the sinewy meat into a large pot. I flash back to my last carcass, a comrade of Jaquob’s. What would Cora say if she knew? Sybil adds some herbs to the mix as well, then wanders to an end table where she starts to dice mushrooms.

A hearty, rich scent fills the room before long. I detect both thyme and rosemary, and my stomach gurgles loudly. Cora giggles softly into my shoulder, and Sybil smiles at us both. When the old woman deems the stew to be ready, she ladles our portions into wooden bowls. We slurp it up so fast that neither of us savors it, but Sybil offers servings until our stomachs are bursting.

We take our time eating these, lazing in the warmth of both the food and the company. I don’t want to return. I feel at home here, with this woman who senses my destiny as if it were its own scent in the room, mingling with the thyme and rosemary. She and I have much in common, with our respective curses and banishments.

But Cora doesn’t find the same comfort here. Although she’s grateful for her help, it’s clear by how the muscles in herneck have corded that she’s not entirely relaxed in the oldwoman’s presence. She finishes her meal first and turns to me.

“Are you all right to stand?”

I bob my head yes, and she extends a hand for me. I take it, gratefully, and then we turn to Sybil.

“Thank you for your kindness,” I say. “I’ll never forget it.”

“Remember what we told you, girl,” she cautions. Coraglances at me, intrigued by the comment, but I fix my gaze on Sybil, bowing my head in acknowledgment. So she saw Will, too.

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