Page 50 of Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore
“Until then, it’s just you and me, Daisy-girl,” he murmured. She looked at him with her big brown eyes and licked his face, her tail thumping against his abdomen with a flat, rhythmic thud. With a little whine, she transferred her attention to chewing on Nathaniel’s sleeve.
“No bite,” he told her firmly, detaching her mouth from his clothing with practiced ease.
Daisy accepted a toy as a suitable alternative and snuggled into his chest as she teethed.
“Sedgwick is taking my business,” said Nathaniel, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. He had grown accustomed to talking through problems in his experiments with his colleagues in the Crucible, but since coming home, Nathaniel hadn’t realized how much the habit had grown rusty. Although the puppy in his arms couldn’t offer any feedback other than a slobbery kiss or the occasional chewed-up pair of shoes, he still appreciated her attentive ear as he worked through his thoughts. “But my family’s been doing this for generations. We survived Shadowfade, we can survive this too.”
She licked his nose by way of response.
He called Pru downstairs to watch the shop and the dog, then strode into the greenhouse with determination. But the secondhe stepped foot inside, he knew something was wrong. A foul smell saturated the air, thick and cloying. Nathaniel rushed to his worktable and was dismayed to find that his most recent experiment on the blight hadn’t diminished it at all—in fact, it had only made it grow. Like one of Pru’s failed bread doughs left too long to rise, the black goo had grown puffy and inflated, with a shiny green cast to its color now that reminded Nathaniel unpleasantly of pond scum. It had taken over the glass box, filling it entirely and even seeping through the ventilation. In one place, it appeared to have grown with such force that it cracked the tempered glass.
He’d have to dispose of the whole thing, box and all, and it would take weeks to order a new one from the Crucible. Corrin, the glazier, could perhaps create something for him, but he’d have to explain to her exactly what he needed, and Nathaniel wasn’t sure how the box was constructed. He slammed a fist down on the worktable with enough frustrated force that his mint plant dropped a few leaves and the array of vials and bottles along the back edge shook.
He simply couldn’t understand this thing, and it infuriated him. That sense of drowning swept over him again like a wave, and Nathaniel felt a heavy rock of anxiety form in his throat. They were depending on him—Pru and Violet and everyone else in Dragon’s Rest—and he was failing. How could they possibly expect him, a failed alchemist with an already poor track record, to save the town? He couldn’t even keep his family’s apothecary afloat, and as for his alchemy, the last time he’d tried to invent something that could really make a difference, he’d only brought disaster upon his family.
Nathaniel ran a frustrated hand through his hair, pulling until his scalp protested in pain. He needed to stop focusing onwhat he didn’t feel capable of and start focusing on what hecoulddo.
He could step back and see that this most recent experiment had caused the rot to react differently than before. He could isolate the ingredient in the solution that had done that.
He could clean up the mess in the greenhouse and prop open the doors so neither he nor Violet would have to tolerate the smell.
He could start working on a few minor potions for the shop so he could make a bit of extra money.
He could march right into Violet’s shop and kiss her again.
Oh. Well.
He allowed himself a single moment to replay the memory that had been on repeat since last night. The soft yield of her mouth, the press of her thighs against his lap, the little mewling sound she’d made when he— No. Moment over. He simply couldn’t allow himself to be distracted right now, and that’s what Violet Thistlewaite was. A distraction. A lovely, bright distraction that made him yearn for things he’d never before thought he might want, but a distraction nonetheless. And moreover, one whodidn’t want him.
Nathaniel simply had too much upheaval in his life right now to allow himself to fall under the witch’s spell, and besides, he’d resolved to wait. Perhaps later, after he’d eradicated his current messes, he could consider a future in which he felt happy as well as secure, but right now one of those two needed to take precedence, and as usual, his happiness would take last priority.
Research
As the postmaster took her message, some of Violet’s worry disappeared along with it. One week. The letter would be delivered in one week, and then Karina the Tempest would know what to do.
After all, she’d come once before.
Still, Violet’s thoughts were dark as she made her way down the street, shaking out her hands to try to eliminate the ache that had set into them. She kept her eyes on the paved walk before her, her brow furrowed as Sedgwick’s words replayed in her head once again.
You’re nothing alone.
She hated how much she believed him. Shadowfade had given her power and purpose. Alone, she was useless. Leaving was no longer an option, but Violet was terrified. She wanted to run. She wanted to believe she could be free of the Thornwitch, and the thought that she might have tobeher again, even if just to scare off opportunists like Sedgwick…
That wasn’t what “being good” meant.
But she didn’t know how else to do this.
Stay here with me.Nathaniel’s voice, rough and so close to herear, rose once more, the only thought that had been able to compete with Sedgwick’s taunts. She closed her eyes and took a ragged breath, stamping down the complicated turmoil of emotion that threatened to overtake her. No, she had to stay focused, no matter how tempting the alternative.
Sedgwick had spoken of a legend, so Violet made her way to the town hall building, which also held the community’s small library. For the past two days, she’d been working her way through the local history section with every moment she could spare. Anything to help stop Sedgwick, though it also had the added benefit of helping her avoid Nathaniel. Inside, the musty-sharp scent of paper and ink cast Violet into memories of Shadowfade Castle, happy ones from her childhood before she realized who she’d become, as Guy read to her from ancient spell books and encouraged her to experiment with what she found there.
Violet wound her way through tall shelves of scrolls and books until she found a thick, promising-looking book and brought it to the front desk to sign it out.
“We have other texts on the town’s history,” said the library clerk, who recognized her by now, “older ones that can’t leave the premises. If you don’t find what you’re looking for, you can come back and request them.”
Violet returned to her shop to find Jerome the Gnome outside with his cart, tapping his feet impatiently next to the Marsh Apothecary sign, which was less pointed today than usual. Although a few half-hearted response options swam weakly through her brain, the sign failed to bring out Violet’s competitive streak, and only brought a blush to her cheeks as thoughts of the other night once again rose unbidden. Here, in front of their shops—where it would take no more than a dozen steps to stand before him—it was harder to ignore the fact that they’d kissed. Or the fact that a not-so-small part of her wanted to do it again…
“This is no way to run a business.” Jerome waved his hands at her. “You have hours of operation on your sign, don’t you? Are you going to open or what?”
