Savage Beauty(24)

This was too much! I needed my garden, needed the calming fragrance of the roses, their vibrancy.

I hated when she forced my hand, but people would have to pay for her insolence. Beginning with someone she once cared for... or several of them.

“Guards!” I shouted. They rushed to my side. “Bring me the cobbler’s daughter,” I demanded coldly. “The one they call Bethany. Have her wait for me in the rose garden.”

They exchanged meaningful glances before walking through the doors, right through the barrier Luna made for me. They would find the girl in the village and she would be brought to the palace, to my garden. If I couldn’t leave, neither would Bethany. And I would send Luna a little warning about what happened to those who tried to cage me.

I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and stood near the window. The balcony’s jutting stone impeded my view somewhat, but eventually, Bethany arrived and waited among the roses. Holding my hand out, I forced the bloom of a rose toward her. Entranced, she bent close to it and closed her eyes.

She inhaled just as I released the toxin, and her body crumpled to the ground.

The thorns tore at the blue ribbon she always wore in her hair, and they rose up high into the air, bringing it to me.

“Peace?” I called.

My dove perched on the rail of the balcony.

“Take this memento to my sister.”





chapter ten




PHILLIP

Ember hissed and arched her back, the fur on it standing up straight. She leapt off the desk in Luna’s room and made her way to the front door, where she squalled and clawed at the wood. A pile of wood slivers was forming beneath her, and though I’d promised not to leave, I didn’t promise to keep the door locked.

Easing it open, Ember jumped onto the porch and nearly took the meddlesome dove down before she landed on all fours on the porch planks, her claws embedding into the wood illuminated by the midday sun. There was a ribbon, the color of a clear blue sky, laying just in front of me. I grabbed the silken fabric and glanced at Ember. She seemed as worried as I was.

What did this mean? Why would Pieces, or Aura, deliver a ribbon?

I went back inside the house and placed the ribbon on the table, and then set about making something to eat. There always seemed to be bread and fresh fruit in a bowl on the counter and stew in the cauldron, yet Luna never prepared it and there were no fruit trees in her yard.

I ate and then settled into the chair near the hearth and nodded off for a few moments, having forgotten how tired I was.

But that rest was fleeting, because the dove kept bringing various gifts to Luna’s doorstep. Ember fought her off every time she came, coming close but never close enough to catch the querulous bird who taunted her.

The ribbon was the least disgusting present. They got worse each time Peace returned. Gift after macabre gift arrived, until the sun finally set and the bird returned no more. When Luna awakened and stepped out of her bedroom, I could see her strength had returned, although the dark stain on her lips and cheek were still present. I stood and opened my mouth to tell her what happened, but she sniffed the air, her smile falling away. Ember meowed at her master.

“What happened last night? I heard the owls when I returned.”

“Something showed up wearing your skin, but Ember knew it wasn’t you.”

“Did it shed my skin in front of you?”

I cringed. “In a matter of speaking. It shook you off and then turned into what looked like a walking corpse.”

“You saw Ankou?” she asked calmly. But I didn’t miss the straightening of her back.

“I guess.”

“He’s a soul-collector. He knows better than to come near my cottage, but if he caught your scent and realized mine was missing, it would explain his boldness. I’ll make sure he pays for it. Don’t worry.”

But I was worried, and not because of this thing called Ankou. She’d made sure he couldn’t get inside.

“We had another visitor today while you slept,” I said quietly.

Her lips parted.

“The dove delivered several things for you,” I said carefully. “The first is on the table,” I motioned to the blue ribbon, “and the others are on the porch.” I hated to admit that I couldn’t bring myself to touch the others, let alone bring them inside.

When tears filled Luna’s eyes and her lips began to quiver as she reached for the tattered blue silk, I knew she was breaking. As if she wasn’t already broken enough, living isolated in a cottage in the forest, too afraid to leave her home without spelling it with protection.

At first I thought she was insane to be afraid of a simple dove. That was before the fowl dropped a bloody, torn ear on the porch. Then a finger. Then a toe. Then a bloodied patch of scalp, which it had carried by the still-attached stands of hair.

Clutching the silk ribbon, Luna walked to the porch, dropped to her knees, and let loose an awful cry that scared the birds from the trees. They rose into the sky, flapping and afraid. She wept, her tears splashing onto her skirts and the wooden planks beneath her knees. She held the scrap of fabric over her heart and cried until the sadness leaked out of her, replaced by a rage I’d never seen before; a rage she couldn’t contain.

Her sobs turned to heaving breaths, and then a growl tore from her chest.

As one, the pieces and parts on her porch ignited around her.