Page 25 of The Poison Daughter
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 notwhoyou were, butwhatyou were.”
