Page 66 of For the Love of the Quest

But to where?

That was the question that kept her from action. The only boat on the island was occupied by Edith and her father. She certainly wasn’t going to waltz up and join them. She had far too much pride to torture herself like that. Not to mention that Edith’s father would likely try to take Thomasin right back to her current captors. Of course, Thomasin could easily overpower Lord Darling, but … she couldn’t do that to Edith. Perhaps she didn’t have any pride left after all.

She saw no other way forward except to stay in chains, or rather ropes, and just let Worthing lead her along to her doom. She was starting to think she had been doomed the moment Marshall pulled her up by her shirt collar.

Thomasin had killed, lied, cheated, stolen. She had lived without morals or kindness or care. People like that didn’t get happy endings with the women of their dreams. They died like Jay, left rotting among the trees. That would be her. Thomasin’s only mistake had been in thinking that being with Edith would change that fate. In thinking that Edith’s goodness would outweigh Thomasin’s badness in the cosmic scales of justice.

She was a fool.

Thomasin didn’t look up from her feet until their pace slowed. When her eyes lifted, and she saw their destination, her heels almost dug in of their own accord.Not here, she thought,anywhere but here.

The abandoned church loomed before them. It was a cruel joke. Worthing tightened his grip, sensing her hesitation. He shoved her through the ramshackle doorway. They walked down the same aisle that she and Edith had walked down … God, it had only been the previous night. It felt like a lifetime ago. Her foot caught on a broken floorboard, and Worthing dropped his hand, letting her fall face-first into the rubble. Her hands were still tied behind her back, so she twisted to take the impact on her shoulder. The force against the pinned limb clanged through her, but it was better than taking the brunt of it to her face. She rolled to her back. Pinprick shards of glass cut into her shoulder blades.

“You’re such a dick,” she wheezed, the fall having knocked the breath from her chest. The chief stared down at her with a twinkle of malicious mirth in his eyes. He dragged her back to her feet, only to shove her into the very same alcove that she and Edith had shared. At least the universe still had a sense of humor. Her knees slammed onto the velvet-covered floor. Worthing took hold of her then, slicing through the rope binding her wrists. For half a second, Thomasin thought maybe he was having a change of heart. But he was only retying her to the pillar that stood in the far cornerof the alcove. He even made sure she was facing the crumbling wall so she wouldn’t be able to see what they were doing.

This was what Edith had done to her, she mused, as Worthing wrapped another rope around her ankles. Edith had softened Thomasin, made her hope for things again. Even stupid notions, like thinking Worthing might have a shred of mercy for her. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Edith had convinced Thomasin she could be loved. Then she’d left, proving what Thomasin had always known deep down: She was unlovable. The problem was that now she knew too well what Edith’s love felt like. A flash of golden light in the pitch-black sky of her life. But that was all it had been, a flash. Thomasin should’ve known it wouldn’t last, but she’d thrown herself into Edith headfirst.

God, she had been planning to spend the rest of her life with that woman. She had been good. For Edith, she had been good, and it still hadn’t been enough. The only parts of Thomasin that were worth anything were the despicable and ruthless ones. Marshall had always taught her that, had instilled in her that she was meant to wield power over others, not be loved by them.

Edith had made her believe that there was something inside Thomasin that was redeemable, that she mattered beyond her skills as a criminal.

But it was all a lie.

Not one soul on this earth loved Thomasin.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The fact that her father was here, that he had a boat docked at the shore, it had to be a sign that Edith was making the right decision. Didn’t it?

She hadn’t known what she had been planning to do when she stormed out of the cave. She’d just had to escape the crushing weight of her failure. If her father hadn’t been there, would she have let Thomasin talk her back down? There was no point in wondering.

The quest was over. She hadn’t been worthy enough to find Excalibur. Edith had sabotaged her grandmother’s chances of fulfilling her own dream to go on the quest, and this was Edith’s punishment. She did not deserve to succeed, not without her grandmother.

But what about Thomasin? The question haunted her as she boarded the modest ship, the wooden ramp swaying beneath her. It hurt how much she loved Thomasin. But the quest was done, and she hadn’t even been able to find the treasure for Thomasin. Edith couldn’t make her whole life an adventure, and Thomasin would no doubt get bored with her. She was a legendary criminal.She wouldn’t be content with a quiet little life with Edith. There was nothing to stop Thomasin from changing her mind once she realized that it was the quest she loved, not Edith.

So she was doing the right thing. She was stopping this before the hurt could get any bigger. The love between her and Thomasin was dangerous. But with her family, Edith risked nothing. She would have her boring life with people who would never stop loving her. Even if they didn’t always show it.

Without Edith to hold her back, Thomasin would thrive again. She could go back to London and take the syndicate back from Worthing. She could have everything she wanted and never be bored.

This was best for everyone.

So why did Edith’s heart feel like it was caving in on itself?

Her father showed her to a small bedroom below deck where she could change into something more appropriate, more ladylike. It was just a cot with a trunk at the foot, a water basin, a desk, and no windows, which made the gentle rocking of the boat more noticeable. Edith’s stomach clenched at the unsteady feel of the wooden slats beneath her feet. She felt like her whole world was rocking uncontrollably, and she might be pitched off the side any second.

Though it hurt to look at now, Edith still took out her grandmother’s urn and set it on the desk. She couldn’t bear to leave it in her satchel, which she’d dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Next, her adventuring outfit was shed, left in a heap on the ground. Edith wanted to tear it up and burn it to ash. It was embarrassing. A physical reminder of her foolishness, of the naive idea that she could be more than what she was. She crumpled the outfit into a ball and shoved it under the bed.

At the basin, she dipped a cloth into the lukewarm water. Her fingernails dug into her flesh as she scraped the grime from her skin. The water quickly turned brown and murky. When shedragged the cloth across her face, it came away streaked with dirt. Edith tossed the cloth back into the basin, deeming herself clean enough.

There was a fresh chemise, petticoat, bodice, and skirt hanging from the door. Last she saw the garments, they had been hanging in her closet at home. She slipped on the chemise, then stepped into the petticoat. The skirt was thick and heavy. She buttoned up the bodice over the chemise. It was made of petal-soft velvet. The feel of that velvet as Edith pushed her arms through the sleeves made her nauseous. All she could see, all she could feel, were those stolen curtains.

Her back arching against the fabric as she lay upon them, Thomasin hovering above her. Edith’s heels digging in for purchase. Her fingers clawing, clutching fistfuls of velvet.

There was a soft rap on the door, then her father’s voice. “Are you decent?”

She must have been standing there, dumbstruck and half dressed, for longer than she thought. Edith cleared her throat, her mind. “One minute!” She tucked the blouse into her skirt, closed the clasp at the base of her neck with clumsy fingers, then threw herself onto the stool before the desk. There was a mirror on the wall, and Edith watched her father enter the room in the reflection. He swung his arms out wide.

“You look so much better. Much more yourself. You’ll have to thank your mother when we get home. She made sure to send your favorite clothes along.”