Gilded Cage (Dark Gifts #1)(29)

Backing away, she grabbed Daisy and shoved her little sis and the baby behind her, towards the tree’s sturdy trunk.

What an idiot she’d been! There could be anything in these woods. So what if there weren’t supposed to be wolves or bears in England any more. There weren’t supposed to be naked men on leashes either, yet Lady Hypatia had brought one to Kyneston.

But nothing erupted from the forest floor. No slavering fangs snapped at them; no claws knifed through the air towards them. Nothing.

Abi waited. Her hands trembled.

Nothing.

Why wasn’t the creature moving? She’d whacked it hard enough to wake anything – even Luke.

Hardly believing what she was doing, she crept back to the pile of leaves. Holding her breath, she slowly reached one hand down and felt it.

Coarse fur. But cool to the touch. And still. You didn’t have to be a med student to work out what that meant.

Emboldened, Abi brushed away the rest of the leaves. The creature – she soon saw it was a deer – never stirred. The eyes were wide open and filmed over. It was dead.

But how? There were no injuries or signs of sickness. The corpse looked perfect in every way. The fur was still thick and glossy. It didn’t even smell.

In fact, the odour here was pleasant: sweet and fragrant. Abi lifted her head and looked about, sniffing. She saw the source and smelled it at the same time.

A short way off, in a glade open to the sky, stood a tree. A cherry, judging from the profusion of pink blossom. Its branches bent down to the forest floor under their weight. In the crisp autumn air, the scent was unmistakable.

The sight was mesmerizing. Abi moved towards it and sensed Daisy following. She put her palms out and brushed them over the blossom, luxuriating in the dense flowers. At her side, Daisy had taken off Libby’s mittens and was encouraging her to touch them, too.

‘It’s so pretty,’ Daisy cooed to the baby. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’

Except it was also, some part of Abi’s brain belatedly told her, very wrong. It was late September. Autumn. Not spring, when these flowers usually bloomed.

She felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with any breeze. The deer was dead, but didn’t look it. The tree was alive and blossoming when it shouldn’t be.

‘Okay, sweetie,’ she told Libby, gently moving the branch back out of reach and shooting Daisy a trust-me-on-this-one look. ‘We’re going to go now. We’ll have our picnic back by the big house.’

She only saw him when she turned.

He was sitting on the ground several metres away, legs stretched out in front of him and his back propped up against a tree trunk. His hair was tangled, and he’d raked it back from his face, which looked thin and tired. But his eyes were bright with curiosity as he watched them. The Young Master.

For a moment he said nothing, and neither did she. Then he jumped to his feet, a smooth, quick motion, and strolled over to where they stood. He reached out and offered a finger to Libby, who seized it and started gnawing enthusiastically. Abi felt Daisy shift uneasily beside her. She plainly wanted to step away, but was unable to do so without breaking that contact.

‘Do you like my tree?’ said Silyen Jardine.

‘Your tree?’ said Abi, stupidly.

‘Yes.’ He smiled and it was bright and cold as the day. ‘Or, to be more accurate, my experiment. From the noise you made just now, I’m guessing you found my other one, too. This is prettier, though, isn’t it?’

He reached out his free hand and fingered the petals thoughtfully.

‘The dead deer,’ said Daisy indignantly. ‘That was you?’

‘Death. Life,’ said Silyen, waggling his finger in his niece’s gummy mouth as she blew bubbles around it. ‘The usual party tricks. Little Libby here was my inspiration, actually. Or rather, her mother was, when Gavar shot her and she died right there in front of us. There was nothing I could do, which was . . . intriguing. I don’t like problems I can’t solve. I’m sure you know what I mean, Abigail.’

It gave Abi the creeps hearing him say her name like that. But the words before it held her attention. Silyen had seen Gavar shoot, and Leah die. It didn’t sound much like a hunting accident.

‘What?’ Daisy had gone alarmingly pink. ‘Not Gavar. He wouldn’t. He loved Libby’s mummy. He’s told me so.’

‘Coming to his defence? Gavar’s way with the ladies is legendary, but I never knew it started so young. Your sister knows I’m telling the truth, though.’

‘Abi?’ Daisy was shrill.

Abi gritted her teeth. She had wanted to introduce her sister gently to the idea that Gavar Jardine might not be a hero. Not with this shocking knowledge. Daisy hadn’t even known he was involved in Libby’s mother’s death – let alone Silyen’s rather more dramatic version of events.

‘We’ll discuss it later,’ she said. ‘We were just heading back, anyway. So if you’ll excuse us, Master Silyen.’

She ducked her head and made to pull Daisy away, but Silyen Jardine wasn’t done with them yet.

‘Tell me,’ he said, withdrawing his finger from Libby’s grasp and eyeing her speculatively. ‘Does she ever do anything . . . special? Unusual?’

‘Skillful, you mean?’ said Daisy. ‘No. She’s just a baby.’

‘Oh, that doesn’t stop us.’ He smiled. ‘If anything, babies’ Skill is much more noticeable, because it’s more uncontrolled. Apparently Gavar used to shatter plates if our mother tried to feed him anything other than mashed banana. Twenty-three years and he’s barely changed.’