Page 129 of House of Roots and Ruin
Julien looked up from his papers, his eyes like daggers. “What are you muttering about over there?”
“Just reading.”
“Can we all agree that’s an activity best undertaken in silence?”
From behind his diary, Viktor made a face at me, then sprung from his chair, too restless to sit still. He swiped Julien’scup, then leaned against the back of my chair, peering over to see what I was reading.
“Arina’sburning heart,” Viktor cursed, dropping the journal to the floor. It skidded beneath my chair, striking my heel. He snatched the paper from my hands and slammed it down in front of Julien. “Look at this.”
Julien peered at the diagram. “Give me the rest of that.”
Before I could protest, Viktor grabbed the folder and tossed it at the desk. Sheets of paper scattered across the top. Julien flipped through them, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth. He sucked in a breath.
“Can you read it?” I asked.
He made a short, insulted noise. “Of course.”
“Does it say what kind of plants they are? What he intends to do with them?”
Slowly, Julien glanced up, blinking at me as though I was extremely dim-witted. “These aren’t plants. They’re anatomical renderings.”
I looked over the drawings I’d been studying with fresh eyes, still unable to guess what organs they were meant to depict.
“The female reproductive system,” Julien clarified, flipping the paper around as though it would help.
It still looked like a flower to me.
“What do his notes say?”
“They’re lists of trials, apparently,” Julien said, so absentmindedly engrossed in the reading, he sounded eerily similar to Gerard. “Specimens used, ratios and dosage amounts. Drugs, extracts.” He flipped to another page. “He lists out all of the women…. I think I’ve found your Constance.” He cleared histhroat. “Constance Devereux. Twenty years old. Blond hair, brown eyes. Biological father, Aukera. No discernable gifts.”
“Translate, please,” Viktor said, running his fingertip around the rim of the tumbler. His eyes had taken on a glassy sheen. “Not all of us have your eidetic memory.”
Julien glanced up. “Aukera. Lord of mirth and god of chance. One of Vaipany’s sons.”
“Constance’s father was a god?” I asked.
“Papa believed so…” Julien scanned more of the trials. “This subject was a granddaughter of Acacia…” He trailed off as though trying to recall which goddess that was.
“Pontus’s daughter,” I supplied, feeling pleased to know something he didn’t. “She controls the waves with waterspouts.”
Julien nodded. “Papa injected a combination of hydrophytes directly into the mother’s womb. The babies were born with gills.”
I drew in a sharp breath. “He was experimenting with women who came from gods.”
Frowning, Julien returned to the papers. “It would appear so, though I don’t understand what he’s attempting to produce. He tried a variety of bloodlines—Seland, Oberonin, Arius, Versia. There’s even a weak line descended from Vaipany himself. Six women. Six gods.”
An uneasy sense of déjà vu crept over me. This story was so familiar somehow.
The memory hit me.
Alex had told me it, when I’d first arrived at Chauntilalie.
Dauphine was meant to have a bit of the divine within her, running straight from Arina’s progeny. These boys. Alex. They had holy blood within them.
I opened my mouth but Julien continued on, stopping me short.
“Here’s a list of medicines used….” He whistled through his teeth. “Poisons, actually. Salvia, mescaline, hyoscine. He crushed up betel nuts, extracted opium poppies….”
