Page 20 of The Verdant Cage
Peter didn’t die here.
Something or someone dragged him here postmortem.
“He’s dead?” Jarek asks.
I choke out a sound. “Yes.”
“I-i-is that…” The head of the Mason House trails off, as if she cannot bring herself to say it.
“It’s Peter Martinez,” I confirm, slipping into Apothecary mode.
Nero and Alexandra stare at the poor boy, anguish draping their features. Jarek’s lips thin to a blade. I crouch next to the body, centering myself before gently opening his shirt to search for his injury.
I gasp when I see it.
Three puncture wounds mar his chest, the same pattern that I believe marked my mother. There are no bite marks, no scratches, no blood. This wasn’t an animal attack.
Before I can think better of it, I speak the thought that’s pressing against the inside of my teeth. “We have a murderer in the Valley, and it’s not my brother.”
The words are barely out before the slap comes. My head snaps sideways, the taste of copper blooming on my tongue. Jarek’s hand is still raised when I level my gaze to face him. His expression is as unreadable as ever.
“Calm yourself,” he says, like I’m a child, like I’m hysterical,like I’m wrong. “This was an animal attack, just as Leonidas should have told you. You’ll lecture anyone you encounter about the danger of exploring outside their assigned duties. In trying periods like these, everyone should spend as much time as possible inside their own homes, with their own families. Don’t you agree?”
I look past him to the other Council members. They should be questioning this absurdity, demanding the truth. Nero glances away, and Alexandra stares at her shifting feet. Even Leonidas pretends not to hear.
They’re asking—no,ordering—me to lie.
“This is your chance to prove your loyalty to your new family, Rose,” Jarek croons. “Don’t make me regret it.”
That’s when the final seam in me tears, the last fragile thread of trust I had in our leadership, in our system, and in everything I once so earnestly believed. I stare at Peter’s body, my mind already cataloging evidence, forming theories, and plotting next steps. Because I’m certain now. It isn’t somethinghunting us, as Misia tried to suggest, but someone.
And the Council is covering it up.
.
I make my way back to the Tzu house, remembering to get my suitcase from the alley where I threw it a lifetime ago when Marina told me Jonas might still be alive. I can hardly feel my feet against the path as I walk. My mind’s a storm, thoughts colliding so fast I can’t pin any of them down. My cheek still stings where Jarek struck me.Animal attack.The words replay in my head, hollow and ridiculous.
I rub my arms, trying to shake off a chill that has nothing to do with the temperature. Around me, the village hums along as if everything hasn’t changed. A Miller carries sacks of grain to the bakery. Girlish laughter escapes from a window. In the distance, the sharp crack of a Mason’s chisel on stone echoes through the streets.
No one else sees the rot.
Too much violence in too short a time has me unravelling. My breath comes fast, keen. I force myself to walk, eyes locked on the Tzu cottage ahead. I need to get somewhere I can think.
I’m beyond grateful to find the cottage empty. I will not be preparing any midday meal for the family.
I hurry upstairs, craving answers.
And I think I know where to get them. After everything I’ve seen today—so much lawlessness it threatens to spill out the sides of my head—I’m convinced my mother knew something.
Something that got her killed.
It’s a good thing I found her hidden journal.
14
I’m perched on the edge of Gryphon’s bed.
When I open Mom’s journal, the scent of pressed herbs leaps out at me. This time, I start on the first page. Each entry is meticulously written, every plant cataloged, every remedy described in detail. But it’s the errors I’m here for, the deliberate inaccuracies only a trained eye would notice. I find the first on page seven. I run my finger along the line. “Cutleaftoothwort grows in sandy, sun-drenched fields,” it reads. But that’s wrong. Cutleaf toothwort, with its peppery taste and ability to ease sore throats, grows in moist, shady woodlands. I’ve harvested it myself, felt its damp leaves beneath my fingers.
