Текст книги "The poison daughter"

Автор книги: Sheila Masterson

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 48 страниц)

5HENRY

Harlow Carrenwell tried to kill me.

It takes a moment for it to sink in. I stare down at the marriage contract as if the answer might be written there. That menace tried to kill me, and I fell right into her trap because she batted those long eyelashes at me.

I knew that someone would have it out for me the moment I set foot in Lunameade, but this is not where I expected the first shot would come from. At least now I have a specific reason to hate her and not just a general hatred of her family.

Harlow watches me with narrowed eyes, like she’s waiting for me to rat her out. She shifts so her hand rests on a ceremonial blade on the bookshelf. She was so convincing in her performance last night. But now, with belladonna blossoms embroidered on her dress and her hand on a blade, she looks as dangerous as she truly is.

Since the attack ten years ago, my vision has been colorless. But while the rest of the world is a spectrum of muted grays, Harlow is black and white. That’s why I noticed her in the bar. Her hair dark and inky, her skin pale as fresh snow. In a monochrome world, Harlow is still striking.

She catches me staring and flashes a knife-sharp smile.

I thought I’d at least make it down the aisle before I did something offensive enough to beg for that level of ire. She tried to murder me…and yet she also moaned and arched into me when I kissed her neck. Either she’s the world’s greatest actress, or she was at least a little bit into it.

My parents are looking at her like they won the daughter-in-law lottery. Coming here and making this offer was a huge gamble, and now they know for sure it paid off. Her magic is dangerous, but not from a distance.

I’ve nurtured my hatred of the Carrenwells for almost ten long years. I was not supposed to ever see Harlow as anything but an assignment, and yet, she’s already outmaneuvered me. Every time I look at her, I can only think of her body pressed against mine.

Harlow was only meant to be a means to an end—someone I could woo and use for information. But the fact that she has sneaky magic makes her even more of an asset.

My new fiancée’s gaze is fixed on me, like she’s waiting for me to speak now and end this.

I’m outraged enough to consider it, but if I tell everyone now, I won’t get a chance to figure out who put her up to it. I won’t get a chance to figure out why she ran off instead of finishing the job she set out to do by some other method, or how she managed to be so convincing. The memory of the way she whimpered when I kissed the thin slash of skin at the top of her stockings rattled through my mind all night, and I need to rid myself of the idea that it was anything more than an act.

Most importantly, if I sell her out now, I won’t get a chance at revenge.

“Could we see a demonstration?” my father asks, startling me from my thoughts.

It takes all my focus not to react. When we planned for this meeting, we’d expected a demonstration would be manipulation or holy fire—not murder. But my father gives me an expectant look, and I have no choice but to commit.

Harlow’s body is rigid, poised to run.

I grin at her and nod. “Yes, I’d love to see.”

Liza Carrenwell knocks twice on the door. A moment later, it opens, and a man walks in. He hands her a paper with trembling hands.

She checks the signature. “The contract looks good. Your family will be paid well.”

The Carrenwells are paying this man to die. They anticipated our request, or perhaps they wanted us to see first-hand how well their daughter can defend herself.

The man takes a step forward, looking torn. He’ll die either way now that he knows Harlow’s magic, but he still has to decide not to die a coward.

Harlow closes the distance between them, her eyes flitting to me before settling back on him.

I step closer to watch how the magic works.

Harlow holds her victim’s gaze. “I’ll make it quick.” The whisper is so faint, I’d think I imagined it if the man’s eyes didn’t go wide.

He nods. “I have a wife and daughter. Make sure they’re taken care of?”

Harlow bites her lip. An exhausted resignation settles in her shoulders.

I’m morbidly curious to see how this works, to know if she can control how quickly and painfully her poison kills someone.

She squeezes her eyes closed as she pulls him closer, like she can’t stand to see her reflection in his gaze as the monster she truly is. Her lips go darker, like they did last night. The witness’s gaze drops to her mouth, and he tenses as she leans closer, his body torn between the biological imperative to flee and survive and the inevitability of staying.

Harlow kisses him. It’s quick, platonic. He stumbles back, staring at her. For a moment, he’s relieved. He pants, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face, like he thinks nothing will happen.

Then, the man stumbles back, clutching his throat. He gasps for air, fingers clawing at the skin of his neck, his face going splotchy and his mouth foaming. His knees hit the floor with a loud thump before he crumples to the side.

I watch the man die the death she meant for me.

Harlow looks resigned, grinding her teeth as she’s forced to watch her victim’s veins turn black beneath his pale skin. Her lips are still dark.

I stare at him longer than I need to, to remind myself why I’m here—what’s at stake. To remind myself that no matter how lovely Harlow Carrenwell looks on the outside, she is a murderous woman with a poison mouth.

My parents’ clapping draws me from the spell.

Harlow turns toward them and catches my eye. For the first time, I see a hint of doubt on her face.

It’s a drastic error for her—a weakness I can exploit. She feels guilty—which makes her attempt on my life more curious. It’s a relief to know she’s not as strong and steady as she appears. Her full lips slowly return to a soft gray as her magic recedes.

“What a fascinating power,” my father says.

Liza places a hand on my mother’s shoulder. “Harvain has blessed Harlow greatly. I’m sure you’re wondering what this means for the line of succession, but we’ve made certain that Harlow’s kiss is the only deadly thing about her. She’ll be able to have heirs without issue.”

Harlow’s skin, from her neck to her cheeks, goes dark. She’s blushing—clearly embarrassed that her mother is talking about her sex life so casually.

“Well, that is excellent news. Hopefully one of those heirs will inherit just as impressive a gift,” my mother says, her voice stiff with the effort of not swatting Liza Carrenwell’s hand away.

Harrick clears his throat. “And what of your son? What is his magic?”

“Our Henry is blessed by Elvodeen. He’s a healer,” my mother says.

I hold my breath for half a second, hoping the Carrenwells won’t ask too many questions about my magic.

Harlow studies me with new interest, but Liza looks bored. Harrick frowns, then shakes his head. It’s like he can’t tell whether to be disappointed I don’t have a more brutal power or glad he’s sending his daughter away with a mender.

“It’s a relief to know that Harlow will be in good hands,” he says, a beat too late for it to sound natural.

Harrick draws a dagger from his belt and steps toward Harlow. Her eyes go vacant as he grabs her arm, pushes up her sleeve, and slices into the flawless pale skin of her forearm. A thin line of blood forms and spreads. The scent of it hits me at the same time as her perfume—a mix of copper and Stellarium Blossoms. Magic and years of hunting in the Drained Wood have trained my sense of smell to break down complex scents quickly, but there’s something unique about hers.

I shift. I’ve felt on my heels since I walked into this room. All I can do is stare at the blood rapidly dripping from her arm to pool on the floor. I should be horrified that her father cut her without any warning, but I’m more disturbed by the fact that she didn’t even flinch.

She holds her arm out to me, and a hot rage swells in my chest at their presumption. Her father doesn’t even know what kind of mender I am, yet he was willing to gamble that I could fix it quickly.

An uncomfortable feeling, something like sympathy, twists in my stomach.

This could all be a carefully choreographed game to prey on my sympathies. I know better than to expect not to be tested. After last night, I can’t put any of this past her.

Harlow steps closer, and the heady scent of her skin hits me like a blow, mingling with the iron smell of blood.

I place my palm over her bloody wound. Her skin is warm and sticky and her pulse pounds.

“Does it hurt?” I whisper.

“No,” she says.

The burning ache that she’s trying very hard not to react to is so sharp it feels like my arm is wounded.

I click my tongue. “Lying again, lovely? Shame on you. It doesn’t matter, though, because I can feel it.”

Her gaze goes far away.

“Harlow?”

Her eyes remain unfocused, like she’s looking through me. I push my power into her, and she winces as the tingling, itching sensation hits her skin.

“It will pass in a second,” I say.

She clenches her jaw as the last edge of the cut knits together. I know that overwhelming itch. She sighs as I pull out a handkerchief and wipe away the blood to reveal flawless skin again.

“Remarkable,” Liza says. “You’d never even know she was cut.”

For a moment, I forget to speak. Neither of her parents looks remotely concerned about whether Harlow is still in pain. I suppose it’s not a surprise since they just watched a man die without batting an eye. Still, I thought maybe they’d show more concern for their own daughter.

I meet Harlow’s eyes. “The pain takes longer to abate, but it will.”

Liza steps closer. “Does it work as well on sickness? Ailments of the mind?”

I frown at her. “Can’t say I’ve had much opportunity to work on ailments of the mind, but I do well enough with fevers.”

“What happens now?” Harlow asks.

“Now you’ll have time for formal courting here in Lunameade, culminating in an engagement party,” Harrick says. “Then you’ll go back to Mountain Haven for the wedding. I understand that they have their own customs. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to attend with all our duties in the city.”

Harlow nods. She looks so calm, her assessing gaze passing over me, like she’s entirely unconcerned about marrying me.

I want to ruffle her. She tried to kill me, and I want to know why.

“Well, we will leave you all to get settled in,” Liza says, gesturing toward the door.

“I’d love to start getting to know my lovely fiancée now if she’d be willing to take a stroll around the garden,” I say, extending a hand toward Harlow.

The entire group freezes, but the request has the desired effect.

Harlow’s gaze darts to her parents before coming back to rest on me. “Now?”

I smile. “Why not? It’s a glorious day and I’m eager to get to know my bride.”

Her eyes narrow. Maybe I have a death wish, but I like that I’ve finally caught her off guard. This is a test to see if she’ll push back. I want to know how desperate her family is for this alliance.

She purses her lips. “I’d be happy to show you around.”

I hold out my elbow, which she reluctantly takes. “Lead the way, lovely.”

We walk out of the room, and a burly-looking man in dark clothes falls into step behind us, his boots clicking against the floor. I try to ignore him as Harlow leads me through the long hallway and out into bright sunlight.

The patio is lined with planters brimming with flowers. It has to be magic keeping them in bloom so late in the season.

Stones crunch beneath our feet as we walk down the short trail into the garden. The whole ride to the city, the forest was barren, nature preparing for winter by shedding leaves and blooms and drawing energy inward, but here, safe inside the city walls, the Carrenwells are so well-resourced they can spend magic keeping their garden blooming like it’s spring.

Harlow leads me toward the tall, leafy walls of a hedge maze, and I stumble a step, wondering if she’s leading me into some kind of trap.

She waits until we clear the maze border to speak. “Are you enjoying your time in Lunameade? Have you taken in the sights? I must admit I’m relieved to see that you can walk on two legs.” Her tone is suddenly as pleasant as the sunshine. It’s more unnerving than her staring daggers at me earlier.

I want to demand answers, but I’ll play her game for now, because the longer I drag this out, the more agitated she’ll be.

“I passed through North Hold, but I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of sightseeing, not that I would have wanted to see the manor. It’s awfully grim-looking.”

She flinches. “My sister, Aidia, lives there. Did you see her?”

I shake my head. “We didn’t even visit the manor. Just passed through the gates. Why? Are you close?”

She pauses and narrows her eyes at me. “You’re awfully nosy.”

“So strange that I’m curious about the woman who tried to kill me?”

She pauses on the trail and turns toward me. “What happened—it’s not what it seems. And please keep your voice down.” She casts a meaningful glance at her guard, looming like a shadow behind us.

I lean closer, and she holds perfectly still. “Does he not know his charge is a merry murderess who sneaks out on her own at night to try to start a war between families?”

She glares at me as I run a lock of her hair between my fingers.

“He can’t be very good at his job if he doesn’t,” I continue. “How often do you do it? Is it weekly, or more of a nightly thing? Just wondering what kind of body count my beloved has stacked up.”

She swats my hand away. “It’s none of your business how often or why I do what I do.”

“It is if you’re coming to live amongst my people. They’ve already been through enough,” I snap.

The guard behind us clears his throat.

“You’re dismissed,” I say, waving a hand at him.

An amused smirk ghosts over his weathered face. “I’m here at Miss Carrenwell’s discretion.”

I’m guessing he’s got to have a good twenty years on me. He looks like he’s in his fifties, but I can tell he’s still fearsome. He has the trained stillness of an experienced fighter, and I’m not about to test him this early on—not when he’s already so wary of me. Part of training is learning to assess a threat, and despite his age, he wouldn’t be guarding a Carrenwell if he weren’t formidable.

Harlow turns to the guard. “You’re dismissed, Gaven. I’m more than capable of handling one brute.”

“One hour,” Gaven says.

The bodyguard’s tone is more fatherly than Harrick’s. He waits for Harlow to nod before he turns and disappears down the path toward the house.

“He seems fond of you,” I say.

“He’s paid, Henry. He’s fond of money.” She laughs.

Her pragmatism is unexpected.

“How did you do it?” she asks.

“Do what?” I ask.

“Hide your aura. I would have known—well, maybe not who you were, but what you were.”

I choke out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re upset that I hid my magic from you, after you tried to murder me? That alone would be enough to start a war, you know?”

“How did you do it?”

I consider not telling her, but I need her to play somewhat nice for now. My plan hasn’t changed; I just need a new strategy, because she’s not a wilting city flower—she’s a murderous snake.

I pull my ring out of my pocket and lift my hand. Holding her gaze, I slide it onto my finger, and she frowns.

“Your ring is⁠—”

“A shield.”

“It prevents magical attack?” she says.

“And magical eavesdroppers.”

“Bullshit.”

She’s smarter than I anticipated. The ring doesn’t shield anything but the visual aura of my magic. I assumed these city walls would have made her soft-hearted and -headed, but she’s sharp as a blade.

“I wanted protection, but I didn’t want to be spotted in the city until we formally met. Didn’t want to cause a fuss ahead of schedule.” I tug on the lapels of my jacket. “I like to make an entrance. I thought you’d understand, considering that dress you were wearing the night we met.”

She crosses her arms, shivering, and for the first time, I realize she’s only wearing a delicate silk dress. She didn’t stop to get a coat before we ducked outside. I pull off my coat, and she flinches as I reach to wrap it around her.

“Easy, Harlow. Just being a gentleman.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“In your nightly exploits? Tell me—do you usually let them get so close to fucking you, or do you prefer to kiss quick and get it over with?”

She silently turns away and rounds another corner, leading me farther into the hedge maze.

I walk faster to catch up. “Why did you try to kill me?”

She frowns. “I didn’t.”

“But you did. You pressed your poison lips to mine and you tried to kill me.”

“No, I didn’t try to kill you.”

I laugh. “Could have fooled me.”

She throws her hands up. “You don’t understand. I didn’t know who you were⁠—”

“So you kill indiscriminately?” I ask.

“On the contrary. I kill selectively, and I was led to believe that you were a problem that needed solving. I didn’t know you were my fiancé.”

Her indifference disgusts me. I know I’m supposed to get her to like me and open up, but I can’t mask how much I loathe her. She’s grown up behind tall walls, and she knows nothing of the world yet thinks she has a right to execute men as she pleases.

“Is this a regular thing for you? Just a normal night out with a side of murder?”

She scoffs. “Why did you take me to your room? Trying for a taste before we make it official? You could have just told me who you were and it would have saved us both trouble.”

Her tone is so haughty, it takes me a moment to realize she thinks I knew who she was.

“I didn’t know who you were either,” I say. “In fact, every person I asked about the youngest Carrenwell had no idea what you even looked like.”

She hums low. “So, you think I should believe you, but you shouldn’t believe me.”

I don’t know what to think. I don’t like that I’m already on my heels. I’d assumed she’d be a delicate flower, but she’s more like a climbing vine waiting for the chance to choke me.

She cocks her head. “Why didn’t you tell your parents?”

“This alliance is important for my people. I wanted to at least speak to you before I decided how to handle the incident.”

She stares at me for a long moment before turning and continuing down the trail.

I follow her around the corner into a tall, ivy-bracketed pathway.

“Why did you look so relieved when they told you I was a healer?” I ask.

She glances up at me and flutters her lashes. “Who doesn’t want a nurturing husband?”

It’s almost enough to make me forget she’s a murderous little viper.

I try again. “I think you owe me a little honesty.”

She scoffs. “I owe you nothing. Just because my family traded me away doesn’t mean I owe you my mind. You’re standing here looking none the worse for it. You got to feel up a pretty girl and now you’re crying about it. Maybe I should be asking the more compelling question…” She smiles viciously. “Why didn’t you die? I poured poison into you and you drank it down like fine wine.”

“I told you. It was the ring,” I say.

She purses her lips, her gaze raking over my face, looking for a lie. She doesn’t look at all convinced. This is trouble.

Her eyes dart past me just long enough that I pick up wariness in them.

I glance over my shoulder. There’s an offshoot of the maze that I almost missed. The whole walkway is bracketed by climbing white roses.

“What’s down there?” I ask.

“Nothing for you to see.” Her tone is suddenly cold.

“It looks beautiful.” When I turn back to her, there’s a murderous glint in her eyes.

“It’s not for you.”

That makes me certain it most definitely is, but I’ll have to wander the gardens another time when she’s not looking at me like she’s planning my death again.

I trail her around a corner into a wild-looking section of the garden. “Poisonous plants,” a sign at the entrance warns.

“Your favorite spot?”

I want her to say more. To explain how her magic works. To offer me any information at all—but she just stares at me.

“Many poisonous plants are medicinal,” she says matter-of-factly.

“So you just use magic to hurt people.”

She scoffs. “If magic was all that hurt people in this city, we wouldn’t need a city watch.”

I’ve hit on something. “Is that why you do it? The casual kissing murders? To stop violence?”

She looks away.

So that’s it. She does have a soft spot under all those thorns.

“You can tell me, Harlow. I won’t tell anyone.”

When she finally looks back, her eyes are glassy. She hesitates, then leans in close, her breath ghosting over the shell of my ear.

“I would rather marry another old pervert than pour my heart out to some feral forest wolf.”

I stumble away. “You think I want this?”

She crosses her arms and looks completely bored by my outrage. “Do you want to hear all about my secret pain, Henry? Want to be my white knight stealing me away to your creepy forest fort?” She huffs a cruel laugh. “You’re not a hero. You’re just another asshole impersonating a good guy.”

She storms by me, bumping my shoulder as she passes.

Anger twists in my chest as I stalk after her, but she’s too wound up for me to get a word in.

“I’m not your friend,” she says. “I’m not your family. I’m just a person who knows how it feels to be currency. Just like you.”

“Harlow, I⁠—”

“You and I are nothing but necessary to each other,” she says as she turns and shoves me back against the marble statue. “Do not be an obstacle.” Her voice is laced with menace.

I hate to prove her right, but maybe growing up in the fort has made me a little feral, because her viciousness turns me on.

“Or?” I ask, arching a brow.

“Or I’ll be forced to remove you from the board in this little chess game our parents are playing.”

I hook an arm around the slim curve of her waist and twist us so that she’s pinned to the statue. I bracket her body with my arms and slip a knee between her thighs. She looks up at me with murder in her eyes, and I’m reminded of how good she feels pressed against me.

“Is that what it is? A chess game?”

I lift my knee so it’s flush between her legs. She tries to shift away. My jacket slips down her shoulders, revealing the pale swell of her breast straining against the dark silk dress. I let my gaze linger.

“Are you foolish and feral enough to believe you’re more than a pawn?” she taunts. “If so, I suppose I won’t have to worry about it being difficult to eliminate you if I wish to.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“One option down, plenty more ideas to go,” she says.

I slide my hand to her hip, but she doesn’t even flinch. I wonder if she’s thinking about last night. This close, it’s hard to think of anything else. But that’s the kind of blinding sense-memory that will be my demise. I brush my fingers down the silk on her hip to her thigh. My knuckles graze something hard.

She freezes as I slide my hand inside the slit and palm a sheath on her thigh. She has a fucking dagger.

My mind flashes back to the ceremonial blade she gripped when she thought I was going to sell her out. Did she just want me to know she had a weapon in hand?

“Planning to use that?” I ask.

“Planning to give me reason to?” she counters.

She’s so sure of herself that I can’t help but be curious. I act on instinct alone and bring my hand to her throat, not to actually hurt her so much as to see what she’ll do. I know better than to poke a bear, yet I can’t seem to help myself.

My fingers have barely brushed her neck before she swats my arm aside, grips my wrist, and twists it around until I’m forced to drop to my knees.

“What in the Divine-damned Drained Wood do you think you’re doing?” she snaps. “I’m not some meek toy for you to break. Next time you lay a hand on me, I’ll shatter it.”

“Next time?” I ask. “You think I’ll try again?”

She shoves me forward so hard I barely have a chance to catch myself before I hit the gravel.

That was unexpected. I jump to my feet and turn to assess her.

She’s fuming, her pale face flushed gray with anger.

“This was illuminating, but I have to go get ready for dinner,” she says through gritted teeth.

She turns to leave. I’m losing her, and I need to know more.

“Who is Rochelli?” The question comes out before I can stop it.

It has the desired effect.

She spins on me. “What did you say?”

The rebellion has them rattled enough that a Carrenwell has stopped to see what I’ll say about him. Clearly, I’m going to need to find this man and maybe even help him.

“I heard a few men talking about him at the bar last night before we met,” I say.

“What did they say?”

I rub the back of my neck, trying to figure out how much to share. I have her hooked, but I don’t want to surrender all my leverage. “I assumed at first that it was just drunken ramblings. Those without magic love the idea of someone evening the score for them.” I wait.

She sighs impatiently. “But?”

“But then they said he was gaining ground in the city—becoming more popular with the common people than your family. They’re tired of the blood tax and they say he’s going to get you to abolish it.”

She crosses her arms. “Of course they would say that. The common folk love a fairy tale. It makes them believe they could be more than ordinary.”

I can’t tell if she actually believes that or if she’s been conditioned to respond that way.

She blinks and winces. She opens her eyes wide and then narrows them on me.

“Are you well?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” she says, but her eyes remain squinted and she rubs her temple lightly. A smirk splits her face as she glances around us. “Well, I’ve enjoyed our little chat, but I must be getting back. This is the center of the maze. Hope you can find your way out.”

I turn, and, sure enough, we’ve reached a circular alcove with six paths leading in different directions.

She tosses my jacket at me and gives a mischievous glance at the trail to her left. She’s going to run from me.

“Harlow, don’t.” My heart kicks up, blood pounding in my ears.

Her eyes light with mischief. “Why not?”

I grab her arm. “Don’t ever run from me.”

For a moment, she’s frozen there, her eyes far away and then focused, and she looks murderous as she yanks her arm away. “Why?”

“Because I’ll chase you.”

She arches a brow. “Wow, you wild forest huntsmen really commit to the feral thing, huh? Do you still do all those fancy blood rituals and wild forest orgies to Kennymyra?”

“I’m serious.”

She takes a step away, her gaze darting down the path. A cold wind blows her hair forward, but I can still see the mischievous smile on her lips through the dark, shining strands. “What happens when you catch me?”

I grind my teeth, trying to keep control of my temper. Why can’t she just listen? “If you trust me on nothing else, please trust me on this—you do not want to know.”

She frowns and still looks poised to run.

“So, will we be venturing out again this evening? More victims on your list?” I ask, knowing this is my absolute last chance to change the direction of this interaction.

She crosses her arms. “That’s none of your business, and you need not worry about my nighttime antics until you’ve said your vows. You cannot speak of it to anyone.”

I close the space between us, and her hand skims the place where her blade rests on her thigh.

“Is that a command, lovely?”

“It’s a threat that if you don’t keep quiet, I’ll find a more permanent way to silence you.”

I click my tongue. “I’ve lost track of how many times you’ve threatened my life.”

“I’d say this arrangement is off to an above-average start,” she says, a half-smile creeping over her lips. “No matter how I act in public, let there be no question in private that all I feel for you is loathing.”

I lean closer so she can see the seriousness in my eyes. “The feeling is entirely mutual.”

She steps away and turns toward the opposite pathway. “Good luck finding your way out, my feral forest wolf,” she calls over her shoulder. “I look forward to our formal introduction feast tomorrow evening.”

By the mercy of the Divine, she doesn’t run. She just strolls away casually. I’m too proud to follow her, but she effectively led me to the center of the maze without my noticing all the twists and turns we took to get here.

I shouldn’t be surprised that she walked away. It’s what Carrenwells do.

Ten years ago, her family led the Drained to our gates and left us alone to die.

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