Page 71 of Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore
Violet dragged her eyes up to meet Pru’s. “I know why Sedgwick wants the Eye of the Serpent,” she said quietly. “He’s not trying to seize power himself. He’s trying to resurrect Shadowfade.”
Happy
Night had long blanketed the sky by the time the greenhouse door creaked open and Nathaniel looked up from his work.
“Is that a cup of tea?” His voice carried more excitement than the prospect of a hot beverage probably merited, but Violet didn’t seem to mind as she strode across the greenhouse to hand it to him. The scent of spearmint and lemongrass rose enticingly from the cup in a comforting trail of steam.
“For you,” she said with a smile.
Nathaniel wiped his hands on the rag hanging from his belt and took the teacup from her, setting it on the edge of his worktable so he could lean in and steal the breath from her lungs with a kiss. It still felt shocking—baffling, almost—that he got to do this now. It didn’t add up that someone like Violet would be interested in someone like him, but for once in his life, Nathaniel wasn’t interested in doing the math as long as the result amounted to this. Every kiss still felt so new, and he hoped the swoop of his stomach and the giddy intoxication that came with her proximitynever went away. He threaded his fingers into her hair, holding her to him, savoring the taste of the tea she’d clearly sampled before bringing it to him.
“Have you moved at all from this spot since I saw you this morning?”
“Certainly doesn’t feel like it.” Nathaniel had been running on sheer stubbornness for two days now, keeping the apothecary closed under Violet’s and Pru’s urging so he could focus on the blight. He’d barely stopped to eat or sleep unless one of them made him do so. If Sedgwick was truly trying to resurrect Shadowfade, they needed every advantage they could get.
“Doesn’t look like it either.” He knew his hair was mussed and his shirt untucked, and there was a middling to high chance that he had some dark circles beneath his eyes. But Violet only looked at him with fondness as she reached up to fix his collar, her fingertips just kissing the skin of his neck. He wrapped her in his arms, trapping her in place. “Anything yet from the vial we brought you?”
Nathaniel pressed his lips together and buried his face in her hair. He still wished she and Pru had not gone to that place, but he couldn’t deny that what they’d learned was invaluable—and the book Violet had slipped him, an old text calledFundamentals of Alchemical Healing, had been one of the kindest gifts he’d ever received, even if it was technically stolen.
“Nothing about the blight,” he said. “The orange vial appears to be some kind of paralytic, whichmightbe a component in how he’s inhibiting your magic, but it’s hard to be sure.” Nathaniel twisted around and pulled a small tin of balm from the shelf above his worktable. “That reminds me, I want to try this one.” He’d rolled out an entire arsenal of salves and liniments over the past few days, trying to see if any of them soothed Violet’s hands.He opened the tin and the scent of menthol filled the air. Violet turned in his arms so they were both facing the table and loosed a soft sigh of contentment as he began rubbing it into her hands.
“As for the green vial,” he continued, voice low and directly in her ear, “my guess is it contains a weapon of some kind. It’s hard to tell without testing it on a live subject, which I will not be doing. Any more progress on the Eye?”
“Nothing.” Violet leaned into his chest, huffing in frustration. “We know he’s trying to use the Eye of the Serpent to power a resurrection spell, and I know he hasn’t found it yet, but as to howwecan find it first, I have no idea.”
She seemed so distraught, Nathaniel had to remind himself she had never lived in Dragon’s Rest under Shadowfade’s rule—she had no idea how bad it was, but he was sure she’d heard stories. She must be worried for her shop and for her future—not to mention her magic. For years, Shadowfade had a habit of making magic-users in Dragon’s Rest disappear. Nathaniel’s resolve hardened; he would not let that happen to Violet. “We’ll figure this out.”
Her concern clung to her like smoke, and Nathaniel felt it start to overtake him as well. There were obstacles coming at them from all sides now. Violet felt like the only thing keeping him grounded. He finished massaging her hands and reached for the cup of tea, groaning with delight when the flavors hit his tongue.
“You should rest,” she said, still leaning against him. He held her with his free arm, unwilling to let her go.
“I’m getting close, Violet,” he said by way of answer. “I know I am. I’m going to fix this for you.”
“I believe you.” She nuzzled into his sleeve. “But what time did you come to bed last night? And what time did you get up this morning?”
Nathaniel took another sip of his tea instead of answering. Hehad slipped through the unlocked door between their apartments a few hours before dawn to slide between the covers with her and pull her close. It had felt like a dream, one much too short because she was, in fact, correct with her implications—he’d been up again before the sun and back in the greenhouse.
Her expression turned wry. “Come on, then,” she said, tugging him away from his work. “You’re done for tonight.”
He was larger than her, enough that her gentle tugs barely registered, but when one of her hands, soft and fragrant from the balm, slid down his arm, clasping his hand and pulling, Nathaniel went willingly, leaving his teacup behind on the worktable.
“Done, am I? And what, might I ask, would you have me do instead?” His voice was teasing, his innuendo clear.
“Why, Mr.Marsh, are you propositioning me?”
His hand tightened on hers. “I might be.”
“Well, then.” A slow, dangerous smile grew on her lips, one that promised long hours of the sweetest torture imaginable. He liked her like this: mischievous, sultry, playful. In a husky voice, Violet said, “I should tell you that what I have planned for you involves taking you upstairs.”
“Oh?” His interest was officially piqued.
The slow trail of her fingertips down his chest was like a branding iron. “Taking off those filthy clothes you’re wearing.”
“I’m listening.”
“And allowing you to sink deeply into my soft, warm…” Her smile flattened as she shifted to a serious voice. “Bed. You need to sleep, Nathaniel.”
He threw his head back and laughed a deep belly laugh that immediately made him wish he gave himself occasion to do it more often.
