Page 48 of Shift of Morals
“Et tu, Brute?” I whispered.
Ash snickered.
“I couldn’t refuse him,” I grumbled. “He’d make my life difficult if I tried.”
“Why would he do that?” Hazel asked, her sharp eyes missing nothing.
“You’ve missed quite a lot of shenanigans between our favorite Floromancer and the local Lord,” Moira said, grinning at me when I turned to mouth, “shut up” to her.
Hazel grunted. “We’ll address those shenanigans later. The priority remains that cursed bundle in your fridge. But…” her voice trailed off as she watched me with those hawk eyes, “it is the height of foolishness to get close to someone who has the potential to destroy your life so thoroughly. Chimeras are put to death on sight for a reason, Evie.”
I swallowed hard. “I know.”
Hazel was right. I was profoundly dumb for acting like Caelan was anything more than a deadly foe. Even if he made me feel special. The Lord had no idea who I truly was, so everything between us was built on a lie.
Trusting anyone except the people in this room could be a deadly mistake. Caelan already knew too much about me.
I thought about running, something I used to think about far more before I’d learned to control the dangerous flares of magic building inside me.
Somehow, I didn’t think I could ever run far enough that Caelan wouldn’t find me. The thought both lifted and sobered me.
Geez. I was cooked, wasn’t I?
Later that evening,I was working out my frustrations in the greenhouse when I noticed the new tray of thyme seedlings were struggling. Concerned, I pulled the tray closer, sending a tendril of tourmaline-colored magic out.
Several withered under my power. I gasped and extinguished my magic, grief welling inside me at the unnecessary death. Shaking the power from my fingers, I plucked the ruined seedlings from the tray and tossed them into the compost pile, whispering an apology as they disappeared into the darkness.
When I stepped outside sometime later, a voice whispered through the wind, Finn’s voice.
“You’ll come to me soon, Evie.”
Unsettled, I hurried inside the house, double-checking all the locks and windows, knowing I’d never be safe if Finn really wanted to bring me to him.
Sleep was a long time coming that evening.
Chapter
Thirteen
Afew days passed. Hazel continued working on the bouquet, and I occasionally caught her muttering obscenities to herself from the walk-in. She seemed fine without my help, so I left her to it and busied myself with the sample bouquets for Caelan’s nuptials. When I’d finished all of them, I messaged Simone, who responded almost immediately with a request for a meeting the same evening at the Keep.
But this time, Moira was not invited. Odd, but if she wanted to come, I’d bring her with me anyway.
When I tried to refuse, Simone kept kicking back my refusals by changing the time in fifteen-minute increments until I got so annoyed I accepted the damn invite.
Three hours later, another decorated black box showed up at the shop, delivered by a quiet man wearing a sharp suit who said nothing and held out a clipboard for my signature.
I stared at it as if it were a snake. “What happens if I refuse delivery?”
The man’s flat stare was so quelling, I almost screamed in frustration. “Fine,” I snarled, scratching an angry signature on the paper and shoving the clipboard back at him.
He spun on his heel and left the shop, leaving the box against the side of the couch.
Moira came out from the back and gasped. “Dammit. Another one?” She looked around, and when she realized there was only one delivery, her lower lip jutted out. “I’m just the stepchild to your Lord. How disappointing.”
“You can wear mine if you’d like.”
Moira laughed. “I do not have a death wish. That one is all you.” She jerked a thumb at it. “Open it up and let me see.”
