I’m right on the precipice of figuring out exactly what the Havenwoods want. My conversation with Henry was telling. It’s not a surprise that they want my father dead after what he did, but I’m wondering exactly how they plan to do it. If he weren’t so entrenched, I might have done it myself.

It might make sense to bathe the fort wall with well water because it’s smaller than the city. Trying to do the same in Lunameade would require a tremendous amount of water.

I have no intention of telling my parents everything I’ve learned, but knowing what is coming will help me figure out how much to give in order to earn the key and my way out. At this point, even if I told my father the truth about Henry, it’s not as if there’s an easy way to manage him.

Once the message finishes burning, I return to the still-open book on the library table. I sit and peer at the crude sketch of a Stellarium Blossom on the page.

When I first discovered my magic, I studied poisons to understand how different types worked, and through practice I learned that if I understood the way each plant poison worked, I could vary how my magic affected its victims.

When I killed my first husband, Marc, I used small doses of belladonna. A quick dip of a poisoned fingertip in his morning tea was enough to start the hallucinations, and I made them worse by adding a little more each day, until he was raving mad.

The healers of Mountain Haven have records of some different plants that are not in the books back in Lunameade. Most notably, they’ve documented the poison properties of Stellarium Blossoms. The flowers were so rare in Lunameade that I didn’t even realize they were poisonous. But according to this book, in low doses they have a subtle paralytic effect. In higher doses, they will paralyze the entire body and the victim will asphyxiate.

“Well then, I’ll let you get back to your studies of—” Henry bends over my chair, his breath ruffling my hair as he leans close. “Poisons.”

“I have a question about your deaths⁠—”

Henry stills but doesn’t object.

“Is it the method or the specific circumstances?” I ask. “Meaning, does a death from one poison prevent a death from any poison?”

“It’s the method—that’s why I can kiss you as much as I want.”

He’s so close that the juniper and cold mountain air scent of him is an assault on my senses. He slides my hair over my shoulder and brushes his nose up my neck.

I shiver, waiting for the sting of fangs, but he simply takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Did I distract you?”

I swat him away. “No, you just reminded me that I wanted to ask how you hide those fangs.”

He arches a brow. “They only come out when I need to feed—or if someone wants to play.”

That’s how he hid them from me. “So the first night I caught you on the hunt, you were going to feed on that woman.”

“Miriam. Yes.”

I frown. An irritating hint of envy fizzles through my blood.

He clicks his tongue. “It wasn’t the same with her. That was just a bit of fun. I never even had the impulse to claim her. That was just simple hunting and feeding. No need to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” I snap.

He arches a brow and tips his head forward. His dark hair falls over his forehead. It’s irritating for him to look this handsome when I’m so annoyed at him.

“Not jealous, but you are tense,” he murmurs. “All that late-night fantasizing not cutting it? I know you’ve been enjoying your toys, but I imagine it’s hard to get the same satisfaction without me. I’d be happy to have you back in my bed.”

The book on poisons is heavy enough that it could do some damage if I chucked it at him, but it’s too valuable. I might need to come back to it when I have more time.

He wants to disorient me? Fine. I can do it right back.

“I’d like to meet with Nicolina Laurence. Do you think she would see me?”

All the humor drains from Henry’s face. “Why her?”

“Because storytellers are also historians and it was her tale that clarified things for me.”

He scrubs a hand over his face, and his annoyance is only an added bonus to this task. “We would have to make an appointment. I will go to Raining Star Bar and see if she can see us this afternoon or this evening.”

I offer an overly cheery smile. “What a helpful husband.”

He rolls his eyes as he walks toward the library door. “I live to serve.” He eyes my book. “Seems like you could write such a book at this point.”

I cock my head and give him my most patronizing smile. “I can see how you might think that, but it’s like I’ve always said. A woman can never be too rich, too confident, or too knowledgeable about poisonous plants.”

OceanofPDF.com

53HARLOW

True to his word, Henry begrudgingly made us an appointment with Nicolina. Unfortunately, Nicolina really doesn’t like him, so she made us wait three days, until after the nightly story hour, when it’s late and the Raining Star Bar is almost empty.

A few dwindling storytellers sit at the bar, drinking and talking and occasionally breaking out into hearty laughter.

While Henry took the spot across from Nicolina, I opted to sit next to her in the hope that she would see the positioning as less adversarial.

We return to Lunameade tomorrow for the start of Dark Star Festival. It will be my last trip to the city for a while. If she can help me figure out what I’m missing about the Drained evolving and my father’s madness, that alone could be enough to get me the key to the tunnel.

The older woman peers up from her notebook to assess me. I’ve already explained that our well in Lunameade doesn’t seem to be as effective at healing as it once was, and that has piqued her interest.

“We think that the issue is environmental,” I say. “In order to explain and get your expertise, I would have to share some secrets with you, and you would have to swear to keep those secrets in the eyes of the Divine.”

I noticed in the short time I was in the Raining Star Bar before that there is a certain level of superstition among the storytellers. They take their devotion seriously, and this is a vow that wouldn’t be taken without the purest of intentions.

“It’s the sacred duty of all storytellers to understand what information is necessary for sharing our history and which details must remain private,” Nicolina says. She places her hand over her heart. “I swear to the Seven Divine that I will not speak of any secret information shared here today with anyone but the ones sharing it.”

I sense Henry’s annoyance immediately. By not telling him the complete information about the wells first, I’m reminding him that he still needs to get back into my good graces. Now he’ll feel obligated to comply the next time I need him to do something.

Manipulation is not my favorite tactic because it’s a man’s tool, but there’s no denying its effectiveness.

Nicolina listens intently as I explain what we’ve discovered so far about the well’s healing magic not working, the blood mist, and the Drained.

When I’m finished, she waves a hand to a woman across the room, and a few moments later, we have a fresh pot of tea and a plate of small cakes in front of us. Nicolina pours us all tea and takes a bite of a strawberry-topped cake before finally turning her attention back to me.

“Can you explain more about what you mean about the well not working?” she asks.

A cold sweat breaks out on my back. I knew this question was coming, but I am nervous about revealing even the barest hint of weakness in my family. For so long, the need to appear strong, flawless, and invincible has ruled my life. Sharing a crack in my family’s facade is unnatural but necessary.

“They aren’t healing, and they seem to create a bit of agitation in some.” I hope this is subtle enough to give her an idea, because if I explain the full extent of the madness, Henry will undoubtedly do something stupid. He already wants to kill my father, despite the way it would cripple the city.