Page 74 of My Faire Lady

I chew on the inside of my cheek, but he gives me a reassuring nod, and I step back.

Scarlet scoops up the scroll, turning it over in her hands. “What would make it glow today, of all days? It’s never done this before.”

“That we know of.” Boden shrugs. “The only reasonable explanation I can come up with, is that it’s tied to you. Your day of birth. Which means it’s not nearly as old as we thought. It had to have been from someone who knew you, like your mother or grandmother.”

I step closer, resting my hands against the curved edge of the table. “Maybe it’s glowed every year on your birthday.”

“And we’ve just never seen it,” Scarlet whispers, pinching the edge of the string between her fingers. She unties it, and a swallow works down her throat. “Lottie, get behind Boden.”

“Why?”

“If some sort of curse jumps from this paper, I don’t want it latching to you.” She looks at me out of the corner of her eyes. “Please.”

The tone in her voice squeezes my heart, and I nod, sliding behind Boden. I peer around his shoulder as Scarlet unrolls the scroll an inch at a time.

Her breath catches. “It’s from my mother. To me.”

“What does it say?” Frankie says, leaning over the table.

With the scroll fully uncurled, I sidestep away from Boden and take up my original spot, beside Scarlet.

She shakes her head, and her shoulders fall. “That’s all I can read. The rest of it is still in code.”

Boden taps his fingers against the table, the fire in the hearth a backlight against him as he narrows his eyes at the scroll. “Where does it say it’s from your mother?”

Scarlet presses a finger to the parchment. “Right here.”

“There’s nothing there,” I whisper, lifting my eyes to her.

“Must be some sort of charm so only I can read it.” She presses her tongue into her cheek and lifts the scroll, turning it over in her hands. “Why would the rest still be in code?” Setting down the paper, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “And if I’m only able to decipher it on my birthday, we have approximately three hours to figure it out.”

I step closer, forcing her gaze to me. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” I look at the others and nod, as if doing so can make it true. “Tell me everything I don’t know about the Murrell witches. Maybe I can think of something you haven’t considered.”

Scarlet sighs. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Frankie tilts her chin toward Boden. “We’ll look through the spell books again. There might be something new that will only show up tonight.”

Boden nods, and they turn away from the table. Frankie stands on her toes, wings straining as she pulls book after book from the shelf and stacks them on Boden’s arms.

I wrap my hand around Scarlet’s arm, my fingers resting in the crook of her elbow, and pull her toward the armchairs tucked into the corner. “Come on. They’ll need the table space, and it’ll be easier if we’re sitting down.”

Rolling the scroll in her hand, she follows me to the chairs and settles in the one closer to the sweeping window. She slides her thumb across her knuckles, cracking them one at a time.

I shift forward and cup her hands, stopping her. “We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

She swallows and lifts her eyes, her thumb rubbing light circles against my palm. “I’m so tired of feeling useless. I should know how to do this—not only how to decipher a message from my mother, but how to save the land. It’s my only purpose.”

“Scarlet,” I whisper, placing a hand on her cheek. The touch isn’t the same as when we kissed during the joust, or the way her spellbound fingers traced my jaw. There’s no heat behind it. It’s gentle, and as I skim the pad of my thumb across her cheekbone, I say, “You’re meant for so much more. You are so much more.”

She blinks, hard, as if there are tears hiding behind her eyes. I almost wish one would fall, just so I could prove she doesn’t have to be strong around me—so I could wipe it away.

Instead, she nods and pulls our hands into her lap. She intertwines our fingers, and whatever vulnerability might have lingered in her eyes fades, replaced with a stony facade I’d do anything to tear back down.

She clears her throat. “Where should we start?”

“All I know about the Murrell witches is that you specialize in bodily spells. So, how could your mother enchant a code like this?”

Her finger slides over the edge of the scroll. “I’ve searched through all the spell books for that, but the only explanation is she charmed it with a sacrifice.”