Page 87 of Those Fatal Flowers

Scopuli’s call carries me to the main deck, dressed in only my thin linen smock. The predawn air draws goosebumps on my skin, but though I know it’s cold, I don’t feel it. The blood is rushing too quickly through my veins. Sailors gawk as I brush past them, but they’re of little concern to me now. The bow is my destination, and I stare ahead, willing Scopuli to appear in the endless blue gradient of sea and sky. The sun sits low to the east, spilling its warm glow onto the waves.

Three tiny needles appear just left of center on the horizon, and every hair on my body rises. It’s a familiar, unmistakable sight, and it leaves me breathless: the rocky formations of Castle.

I’ve dreamed of this moment for months, thought through every minute detail, but now that the time is here, I’m frozen in place.

“Thelia?” Cora whispers, and her voice shatters my suspension. I whirl around to meet her.

“Cora.” The desperation in my voice catches us both by surprise. She throws a shawl around my shoulders, always concerned for my decency. I take it readily. With my reverie broken, the chill finds my skin, and I pull the shawl tight around my frame. “Go, now.”

My tone sends her back a few steps, but I don’t have time to calibrate my reactions properly. If we can see Castle’s spires, it won’t be long before Raidne and Pisinoe discover us approaching from the south.

Cora takes off toward the gun deck, and I look north once more. The trio of rocks grows larger; there’s no denying it. I tear myself from the view and head for the Bailies’ cabin. Noone answers when I knock the first time, so I knock again, louder. A few moments pass before Mistress Bailie answers, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Mother and son have both just woken.

“Lady Thelia.” Her eyes widen in surprise. Just as Emme and Margery suspected, in the fury of the storm, no one bothered to confirm if their story about Charles was true.

“We’re approaching Scopuli,” I say cheerfully. Excitement radiates off my words. The elder Bailie stiffens at the news.

“What do you mean?” Thomas’s voice is pitched, no doubt alarmed by my appearance in his doorway. “Your map says we’re still a few days out.”

Saliva pools beneath my tongue, and I laugh at this little gift from Proserpina. “Did you think I’d tell you Scopuli’s true location?”

“Go warn the men,” Agnes orders, twisting to face her son. Her tone pushes him to pull on his leather boots. “And ready the cannon.”

His expression darkens at the order, but he obeys it, stumbling shirtless from their cabin. I let him pass and then close myself in with her. The corner of her lip twitches at the sound of the door clicking into place, but even now, she’s too proud to let me see her fear for long. Instead, she moves to stand before a mirror that hangs on the wall to our right, eyeing herself in the looking glass. Gracile fingers collect her yellow hair to twist it into a bun, then she reaches for her hairpins to secure it in place. I want, no, Ineedto see her jaw drop, her carefully constructed exterior crumble into ash.

“You taught me an important lesson, Agnes.”

That piques her attention, and our eyes connect in the mirror’s reflection. “And what was that?”

“Before I met you, it wasn’t in my nature to wish harm upon women. So many of us have suffered at the hands ofmen. It seemed wrong, no,perverse,to inflict that same cruelty on each other.”

I deposit Cora’s shawl on her bed, then slide beside her and pluck the pins from her grasp. She still holds her unsecured bun with her other hand, and I slip the delicate metal pieces into those daffodil locks for her.

“But then you showed me it wasn’t simply the sex between your legs that can corrupt a person. That although we bear unimaginable burdens, women can curdle just as easily when lusting for power. Tell me, why did you kill Will?”

She turns to face me, intrigued by my candor. The smirk on her lips reveals that she doesn’t believe herself to be in any real danger. “I didn’t.”

“You know what I mean. All of this”—my hands motion to the room around us—“was your idea.”

“Will meddled where he shouldn’t have, and after, it wasclear that he was never going to do what needed to be done.”

Her voice is steady, calm, as if she’s discussing her favorite Bible verse or her preferred flavor of tea. But then her eyes narrow. “You had something to do with his body ending up outside the walls—how did you move him there without being caught?”

I ignore her question. “Why would you do such a terrible thing?”

“For Thomas, of course. He needs to be guided to greatness.”

“You’ve hurt a lot of people.”

“The world is a dark place, Lady Thelia. The weak don’t survive it.”

The back of my throat begins to tingle, although the exact sensation is difficult to describe. It’s not painful, but there’s a pressure that builds, and it begs to be released. It’s my song,trying to break free. Now that Scopuli is close, its magic has returned.

“If I wanted to, I could enchant you. I’d lead you off the ship’s edge and let you drown in the waves below. If the gods deemed you fit, you’d wash ashore alive, and I’d slit your throat as a sacrifice to them.”

Her eyes widen in disgust. “I knew something was wrong with you from the very first time I saw—”

“Most men don’t survive the gauntlet of the waves and reefs. But you’re stronger than most men. I’m so tempted to see if you’d live. I’m almost certain you would. And what an incredible offering you’d make! Proserpina would love that pretty porcelain neck of yours and the treacherous blood in your veins. But I’m tired of waiting for the gods’ approval.” I pull one of the fibulae from my hair and press its pin into my finger to test its sharpness. A tiny bubble of blood erupts from my flesh, and I smile. “When I kill your son, his death will be for me. Just like yours.”

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