Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns, #4)(7)

‘Dead?’ Ellis exclaims as Billy shushes them both.

‘I’ll tell them,’ he says. ‘He was my brother, too, in a way. And I can describe what happened as well as you can.’

‘Tell them where he’s buried,’ Arsinoe says hurriedly. ‘Tell them about the headstone, the inscription—’

‘I’ll tell them everything. Go. Take them to see Jules.’ Arsinoe nods and leads them on, almost in a daze. As they make their way up the stairs to the tower, she tries to prepare them for what they will find, telling them as gently as she can what happened: how the legion curse was cut free when Madrigal died and what a violent reaction it sparked in Jules.

‘She might not even be awake,’ she warns. ‘The tonics I craft to keep her calm sometimes make her sleep during the day.’

‘The tonics you craft,’ Cait repeats. ‘So the rumors are true. Our naturalist queen was only ever a poisoner.’

Arsinoe pauses with her hand on the door. ‘You raised a naturalist, and a naturalist I will always be. Though I do feel better about never being able to grow anything.’

To her surprise, Cait chuckles. ‘True. But we never schooled you in poisons, Arsinoe, as we didn’t know. Is it safe, what you’re doing?’

Arsinoe swallows. Safe? Nothing about the ingredients she must use feels safe. If she is not extremely careful in her measurements, Jules could simply stop breathing. But in Arsinoe’s use of it, she has discovered that there is an instinctual aspect to the poisoner gift. Her hands are always sure. She blends the tonics as if in a trance. But that would be difficult to explain to a naturalist. ‘There’s a healer here who fills in the gaps that my gift doesn’t.’

She opens the door of the outer chamber, and they go inside. At the sight of Cait and Ellis, Camden rises on her three good legs and grunts softly.

‘You’re happy to see us at least,’ says Ellis as he goes to her and strokes her soft, golden fur. ‘Shouldn’t she be with Jules?’

‘It isn’t always safe. Camden is violent when Jules is unwell. And Jules . . . hurt her when the curse was cut free.’ Cait and Ellis frown; for a naturalist, there are few crimes worse than the abuse of a familiar. So Arsinoe clears her throat and brightens her tone. ‘But when she’s quiet, Camden’s basically fine. Her old self. If Jules is resting, she can go in with you.’

She unbars the door. Inside, Jules lies on the pile of straw, pillows, and blankets that Arsinoe and Emilia arranged for her. Her hands and feet are chained. Ellis frees Camden from the wall, and the cougar trots quickly into the room. She circles Jules twice before lying down and resting her head in the hollow of Jules’s shoulder.

Without a word, Cait kneels in the straw and gathers her granddaughter into her lap. Ellis places his hand on her shoulder. It is harder to watch than Arsinoe expected, and her throat tightens.

‘I’m so sorry, Grandma Cait.’

Cait takes Jules’s hand, so dug into the links of the chain that she has to pry it loose. ‘Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.’

‘If not mine, then whose?’

‘No one’s,’ Ellis says.

‘They say she tried to save her,’ Arsinoe whispers, her voice choked. ‘She tried to save Madrigal.’

‘Of course she did,’ Cait says. ‘That was always her way. Saving you, protecting you, trying to keep you out of trouble. And before you, there was Joseph. Our Jules was born a guardian, just as she was born a naturalist, and a warrior. Just as she was born cursed.’

After Cait and Ellis leave Jules and drift away to rest, Arsinoe remains. She stays in the tower of the castle with Camden, idly scratching between her ears and looking down on the city. There is much activity below. So many goods and supplies coming in that the gate is rarely closed. So many weapons being forged and horses being shod that the fires at the smithy are always burning. Sunpool, not so long ago a failing ruin, has come alive again with war.

When she hears footsteps on the stairs, she expects that it is Billy, but instead, a man knocks and enters, wearing the yellow-and-gray tunic of the seers.

‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ she says, glancing at Jules’s barred door.

‘Forgive the intrusion, but I need to know where to house the new naturalists. The newcomers from Wolf Spring.’

Arsinoe rubs at her brow. The tower with Jules had become her hideaway, and his intrusion is an intrusion indeed.

‘There’s no need to house them anywhere. They’ll not be with us long. And they’re naturalists. Perfectly happy in tents by the sea.’

‘Surely some will want to stay?’ he asks.

‘I wouldn’t count on it.’

‘What is he asking you for, anyway?’

Arsinoe does not bother to stifle her groan when Emilia walks into the room, with no warning or announcement. The warrior’s footsteps are only heard when she wants them to be. She grasps the man harshly by the shoulder and spins him away from Jules’s door.

‘You are not to be here. And you are not to ask her anything.’

‘I only thought . . . in the absence of the Legion Queen—’ ‘In the absence of the Legion Queen, I will handle all arrangements,’ Emilia growls.

‘Good Goddess,’ Arsinoe says as the poor fellow hunches low and tries to sidle from view. ‘He only asked me because I am a naturalist and I am from Wolf Spring.’