Page 46 of Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore
A Visit from an Old Friend
By the time Violet, Nathaniel, Peri, and Pru returned home, the sky was growing dark.
“I suppose I should count this skirt ruined,” said Pru with a sigh, inspecting the rot staining the hem.
“You could trim it off?” Violet suggested. Her own clothing was in no better shape; at this rate, all her trousers were on track to becoming knee-length knickers. She’d fit right in with the gaggle of young children who played in Wingspan Green each day while their parents shopped.
Pru looked thoughtful. “Sounds to me like we’re on the cutting edge of a new fashion. Short skirts and bare shins for all! A new age dawns in Dragon’s Rest, just in time for spring!” She flung her arms wide and called out, “Everyone, quick, fetch your sewing scissors! I want to see those legs!”
Nathaniel had, of course, managed to keep his clothing spotless, the blackened tips of his fingers the only evidence that he’d just spent as much time in the muck and mire of the rot as they had. Violet swallowed hard, watching those careful hands flex athis sides, trying to banish the memory of them firm around her waist, those fingers ghosting across her cheek, in her hair, at her throat. She’d kissed Nathaniel Marsh. No, correction, she’d cried on him and then practically mauled him, and had then spent the better part of an evening helping him clean up a biohazardous ooze from the muddy street.
Romantic, Violet. Well done.
Deep inside her, the Thornwitch smoldered with resentment at being made to look so vulnerable. And now…now she had to leave. Violet tore her gaze away, staring at the ground where Peri the rock goblin chattered up at her, his head cocked at an angle that made the peridot in his chest gleam.
“Hopefully this new age for Dragon’s Rest includes a bath in my near future,” said Violet loudly, as if the volume would clear her mind of those other thoughts. “I cringe every time I think I might bring even a speck of this blight into my shop.”
“I should have mentioned it earlier,” Nathaniel said, perking up, “but I’ve created a special soap to remove it. You’re welcome to it if you like.”
“Oh, that would be marvelous.”
“Fair warning,” interrupted Pru, “it will also remove any evidence that you’ve ever had fingerprints.”
Nathaniel clucked his tongue. “I’ve solved that particular issue, as you well know.”
“Yes, but have you solved the smell?” Pru cocked her head, an equally crooked smile aimed at her brother.
“Perhaps that’s just your natural odor.”
She elbowed him. “Violet, tell Nathaniel that I smell wonderful.”
Nathaniel had smelled like mint and rosemary. He’d tasted of it too.
“Violet?”
She jerked back to the present. “Hmm? Yes, you smell…” She wrinkled her nose. “Like blight, if I’m honest.”
Pru’s sigh rivaled a gale-force wind. “I’m almost tempted to say it smells better than Nathaniel’s soap.” She sniffed her spattered collar. “Almost.”
Nathaniel leveled his sister with a lopsided smile that made Violet’s heart stutter. “It’s either this or scrub yourself raw trying to remove it with regular soap.”
Violet looked between the twins, amused.
“Sounds like either way I lose my fingerprints, then,” said Pru. “No matter, I’ve never been particularly fond of them anyway.”
“For the last time, it doesn’t—”
Pru laughed and winked at Violet. “He’s so easy, this one.”
They reached the apothecary doors. “Which of us has the cleanest hands?” Violet asked, but Pru had already taken a handful of her ruined skirt and used it to cover her hand so she could turn the key and open the door. The siblings maneuvered easily through the dark apothecary, Prudence announcing loudly that she was ready for a bath and heading up the stairs with a hurried good night.
“Don’t you dare touch Daisy without washing first!” Nathaniel called up the stairs as he led Violet to the back door to the garden and their shared greenhouse. He looked down at Peri with suspicion. “And you, I’m watching you.”
The rock goblin croaked at him, keeping close to Violet’s heels. Violet’s heart pounded so loudly Nathaniel must have been able to hear it. She was alone with him again. Three moons, how had that happened?
“Here,” said Nathaniel once they’d reached his worktable. He handed her a tin of some pungent-smelling cream.
Violet scrunched her nose. It was herbal and bitter, with apeppery quality that made her want to sneeze. “Pru wasn’t kidding.”
