Page 203 of The Poison Daughter
While Harlow has warmed from outright trying to kill me to just being her prickly self any time I try to do something for her, Gaven’s suspicion has only grown. I like having him here to keep an eye on Harlow, especially after what happened with Stefan last night, but every day I’m reminded just how attuned his vigilance is.
I’ve known I’ll need to kill him since the moment we met, but I need to get as much information from him as I can before then, and I need to find a way to make it look like an accident. Harlow doesn’t trust me, but she occasionally believes me, and if I’m not careful, I’ll set us back completely and she will run.
If we can’t figure out what magic the rest of her siblings and her mother have, we won’t have a plan to counteract it when the time comes to take out Harrick.
I’d hoped the trip to the city would benefit me twofold: it would give me more exposure to the Carrenwells to try to pick up on their magic, and it would endear me to Harlow.
Instead, it only made things murkier because all of my searching ledme to Rochelli and sent me in a circle that led right back home. Harlow doesn’t seem convinced that it fits Gaven’s nature, and I’m inclined to agree with her.
Gaven clears his throat. “Are you out for the entire day?”
I shake my head. “She’s taking a bath. I have to meet with my parents, but I will be back in an hour or so.”
He crosses his arms and leans back against the door. “I’ll be here.”
“Tonight is a hunt night. I’ll have to be out for the evening and I really need her to stay in her room this time.”
Gaven nods. “I’ll stay in the room with her until you return.”
“Divine deliver you from her when she finds out you’re babysitting,” I say.
His mouth twitches into the closest approximation of a smile that I’ve seen from him. “I think I’ll manage.”
I turn and walk down the hall, casting one last glance over my shoulder before I descend the stairs.
The first floor is quiet in the afternoon. Most of the staff have finished cleaning for the day, and the only sounds come from the kitchen. Two guards stand outside the sitting room doors at the end of the hallway, and they let me in immediately.
Muted winter light pours in through the large glass windows. The view of the back patio isn’t particularly pretty when it’s this cloudy and cold, but my parents have enough meetings in this room that it’s better to be at the back of the house with a worse view for the sake of privacy.
My father sits in his old leather chair by the fire, a glass of whiskey in his hand. My mother is perched in a matching chair beside him. She looks up from the book in her lap as I enter.
I don’t even have to look at it to know it’sHymns to Asher. It’s a classic fictional tale about a man who travels beyond the veil to steal back his wife from the Divine of Endings. I’ve never asked why my mother reads it so much, but I think it’s less the tragic love story and more the exploration of what it is to face down your shadows and descend into the underworld of yourself. She started reading it when Holly died, and now she’s read it so many times, the spine is cracked and the pages are falling out.
“I need to kill the bodyguard. He’s become too suspicious,” I say.
The chair creaks as my father leans back and takes a long sip of hisdrink. “I don’t see any problem with that as long as you’re sure it won’t set back your relationship. Her trust is the most important thing.”
“There’s just one small complication,” I say. This is the real test. I want to see how they react when I tell them about Gaven’s handwriting and the letter. Harlow wasn’t nearly as confident about it being his handwriting as I was that it was my father’s.
“What is it?” my mother asks.
“When we were in Lunameade, we happened upon a rebel with a note from Rochelli. For a long time, Harlow thought Rafe Mattingly was Rochelli, but the handwriting in the letter was her bodyguard’s.”
My father frowns. “She’s certain.”
“She’s pretty sure.”
He makes a low hum of interest, but he and my mother don’t look at each other. I hate that there’s something they’re not telling me when we’re doing something so risky.
“What else do you have to report?” my father presses.
I shove down my annoyance. I’m trying to figure out how to lead them to a place where they will finally be honest with me. Their protection is so patronizing. I’ve been kept in the dark too long. I’ll have to try another way to bring the conversation back to the letter.
I take a bracing breath and force myself to press on. “I haven’t had any luck figuring out Liza’s magic, or any of the other siblings. I’m not better off than when we started. Able has holy fire and Kellan has manipulation magic, but Liza either hasn’t used hers or it’s invisible. The rest of the siblings are more distant and I didn’t get to interact with any of them.”
“Not even the sister she’s close with?” my mother asks.
The guilt of not having more to offer my parents presses in on me. I suspect that Aidia is the glamourist who made Harlow the necklace that she uses to disguise herself, simply because none of her other siblings seem to pay her any mind. A gift like that would take considerable work and skill. But without meeting her in person, it’s hard to be certain.
