Page 48 of Malice

Another challenge. It seems unthinkable. Briar will be in chaos.

“Of course, Father thinks the whole crisis is the fault of the former queens. He says there shouldn’t have been restrictions placed on royal births—even if it meant more women would die if they didn’t break their curse.” She screws her lips into a snarl that very much resembles one I saw in the war room. “Such a mistake would never happen in Paladay.”

He can sail right back there.

“They might keep me out of their council meetings”—her amethyst gaze snaps back to mine—“but I’m determined to begin making some of my own decisions. And one of them is to come here. And see you. If you don’t object, of course.”

It takes me a moment to find my voice. “No.”

“Good. We can figure out something with the money I leave at the front. Donate it to the Common District, they need it well enough.”

The last of my anger melts. Shewouldthink of something like that.

Aurora crosses the room and raises a tentative hand to Callow. “Who is this?”

“My kestrel. Callow.” I dig out another treat and show her how to feed the bird. “I found her on the cliffs when she was just a chick. Her mother abandoned her after her wings were broken. No one wanted her. Mistress Lavender said I should just leave her.”

“Leave her to die?” Aurora pets the speckled fluff on Callow’s head.

“They wanted to do the same to me.” I shrug. “An ugly Grace infant with green blood.”

“I’m glad they didn’t.” She lowers her hand and it brushes against mine. Sparks shoot up my wrist. “Callow is lucky to have found you.”

“We found each other.”

I smile at my kestrel, once again struck by how similar we are. Both of us broken castoffs. Kept in the shadows, unable to fly. Callow tilts her head, as if she understands my thoughts.

“I’m sorry for her, though,” Aurora says. “It must be a miserable existence. To be caged your whole life.”

The lines of her body pull taut beneath her cloak. She knows something about that fate, I think. Beneath the crown and the lavish ballroom and expensive clothes, Aurora is little better than the Graces. A servant to the Crown instead of wearing it.

But I might be able to do something to help her.

“I have an idea. Since youarea paying customer.” I scurry along my shelves, plucking up bottles and jars and setting them on the worktable.

Aurora resumes her pacing around the room. “I wish I had chambers like this.”

“You want a lair?” I drop a dollop of magnolia-bark paste into a mortar, then sprinkle lavender heads on top, grunting as I mash it all together. “A cold, wet room that constantly stinks of smoke and blood?”

She laughs. “Remember, I like the abandoned library.”

“True.” A long tip of the valerian syrup completes the mixture. I stir everything together and funnel it into a small vial. “For your guards. A sleeping draught. It’s not an elixir, but a little bit in some tea will do the trick. Or coat a needle with it and prick them, if you’re feeling bold.”

“Oh, I’m always feeling bold.” Aurora winks and my heart skips.

She reaches for the vial. Our hands touch again. My scaly skin juxtaposed with her bronze-kissed glow. Light and darkness. Monster and maiden.

“Aurora.” I want to keep the words back, but I can’t help them. “Are you sure you don’t mind—me being part Vila? After—”

“I’ve already answered that.” She twirls the base of the vial on the table. “Whoever that Vila was who cursed my family, she was not you.”

“But I share her blood. Her curse killed your sisters. It might—”

“Enough.” She sits across from me. “I’m sure I can come up with a long list of humans evil enough to rival a Vila with a grudge. It’s over, Alyce. There’s nothing to do about it now.”

I let her words sink in, a warmth that has nothing to do with the hearth reaching its fingers through my veins. Callow mutters on her perch in what might be approval.

“Did you find anything in the book I lent you?”