Page 49 of Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore
But someone had apparently taught Sedgwick some sense since she’d last seen him because he shook his head with a teasing smile. “Ah-ah, nice try, Thornwitch. What could you have to offer me without Shadowfade standing behind you?” His words were too close to the fears that endlessly circled her mind in Guy’s voice. Sedgwick continued. “If you want information, find it yourself. And once I’ve found it and you’re the one working for me, you’ll wish you’d taken my offer. You might have been Shadowfade’s favorite pet, but you’re nothing alone.”
Thorns bristled inside Violet’s skin, and for once she didn’t stop them, letting him see the way her natural defenses itched to remove him as her problem, reminding him who held the real power here. She felt her body change, twisted thorns bursting from her temples like horns, vines creeping from her back, itching to bind, to strangle.
Even if she knew he was toying with her, being the Thornwitch again was seductive. Breaking the dam of her dark magicand letting it flow slaked a wicked thirst she hadn’t realized had grown so severe. Her body soaked it up like rain in the desert, her limbs crackling with power that pushed for release. There was no sting, no ache, only the dazzling current of magic. Oh, but she’d forgotten howwonderfulthis felt.
Sedgwick knew who she was, what she’d done, what she was capable of, and for the first time in weeks, Violet allowed herself to be that monster.
“You have no idea what I am,” she warned. Her voice, her stance, the soft threats and veiled displays of her power—it was as comfortable as slipping on a broken-in pair of shoes, perfectly molded to her feet and well suited to planting a kick between his sorry legs. “You have no idea what I could be.”
He cowered for only a moment, his surprise quickly tempered by arrogance. “I think you’re a sad, scared little girl who has lazed so long on the arm of Shadowfade’s throne that she doesn’t know what happens now that he’s gone,” he taunted. “But let me tell you something, Thornwitch—you will find out. And I’ll be glad to teach you the lesson.”
She whipped out a hand to grab his arm, and he yelped when she let her thorns pierce his skin.
“Try it, you pitiful excuse for a man,” she hissed. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
He jerked his hand back, cradling his bloody wrist against his chest. “And neither do you,” he spat, but backed toward the door, his narrowed eyes glued to her like she might pounce at any moment. She wasn’t positive that she wouldn’t, if she was being honest with herself. “I’ll get to the bottom of the legend before you do, Thornwitch. Your magic won’t help you.”
She gathered her bravado and shot him a haughty look. “We’ll see.”
It was only once he was gone and the door locked behind himthat Violet allowed herself to sink to the ground. Unbidden, the floor became cushioned with soft petals as she shed her Thornwitch guise, letting her unused power dissipate around the shop as it pleased. The lilies on the shelf behind her burst into bloom, and a potted ivy grew about three feet to weave through her hair and wrap comfortingly around her shoulders like a shawl. She felt nauseous as she came back to herself, banishing the Thornwitch to the farthest reaches of her consciousness.
You’re nothing alone, Sedgwick had said, and Violet feared he was right. Without Shadowfade to tell her who to be, she was flailing. Karina the Tempest had misplaced her faith; Violet wasn’tgood, she was a bloody coward.
She could still leave; sheshouldstill leave. Start a new life far from Dragon’s Rest where Sedgwick could never find her.
But it didn’t seem like the smart option it had been earlier that night, when Sedgwick recognizing her had felt like the worst thing that could happen. Ithadhappened, and she’d held her own, and now she knew he was looking for something.
Something he could only find in Dragon’s Rest.
Violet knew it must be something that would give him power—Sedgwick was a deviously talented alchemist, yes, but he would never dare to try to stake a claim over Shadowfade’s former territory unless he knew he could maintain it. Whatever he was looking for, he thought it would allow him to hold his own against the Thornwitch and probably much more.
And he’d mentioned a legend.
Violet could find it first. When she thought about Nathaniel and Pru and Quinn and (Good) Guy and all her new friends and neighbors living under the rule of someone like Sedgwick, she knew she couldn’t leave this place unprotected.
Running away was out of the question now.
She had no choice. Violet had to stop him.
Drowning
What kind of monster uses a red envelope?Nathaniel wondered as he slid a finger beneath the flap and broke the bank’s official seal. It seemed unnecessarily aggressive, like leaving a bottle labeledPoisonon the supper table next to a bowl of soup.
Nathaniel skimmed the short letter and tossed it aside, his heart kicking into a gallop. He had six weeks until he had to start making the extra payments—did they have to keep sending him notices like this, as if there weren’t already a voice in his head loudly counting down the days? All it did was send him spiraling.
“What am I going to do?” he asked Daisy, who trotted over at the sound of his voice to sit perfunctorily on his feet, where she continued the imperative business of gnawing on a thick length of braided fabric Pru had made for her. The weight of her little body calmed him a bit, giving him something to focus on besides the crushing disquiet that heated his skin like a forge and tunneled the edges of his vision. She was here, which meant he was not alone, he reminded himself through the ringing in his ears. Nathaniel bent to pick Daisy up with clammy hands, holding herclose to his chest as she notched her head over his shoulder and began chewing on the collar of his shirt.
He was going to lose the shop, he thought with devastated certainty as he focused on the texture of her soft fur and forced another breath through his lungs.
The barest drop of relief fused through the roiling mix, asking if perhaps this was better. If he failed, he could blame it on their inherited debts. He would no longer be bound to a business he didn’t want, and he would be free to…
To do what? Continue ignoring the siren call of alchemy? Go back to the Crucible to build weapons for the Queen? Spend the rest of his life in the same state of constant guilt and worry for the people he cared about, only unable to provide the security that he and Pru needed? Failure wasn’t a relief. It was defeat. It was his family’s legacy, his home, his and Pru’s livelihood—Violet’slivelihood—gone.
Disappointment sank into Nathaniel for the umpteenth time since last night. His shortcomings were taking center stage from every angle, it seemed. After Violet had rejected him—and so soon after their kiss on the street—Nathaniel had replayed the entire encounter in his mind until he could recall it in vivid detail. She was attracted to him, he’d decided, at least a little, or she wouldn’t have kissed him and wouldn’t have looked at him the way she had in the greenhouse before she pulled away. He was certain there wassomethingbetween them and that she must have felt it too.
Perhaps she was afraid of more—he knew she was running from her past life with her adoptive father (who quite frankly sounded like a piece of work), but perhaps she had other reasons to fear starting anything romantic with Nathaniel, reasons that could very well have little to do with him. Despite the logical reasoning and the answer upon which he’d landed, Nathanielfound it difficult to ease the sting in his heart when he remembered her wincing away and telling him, “I can’t.”
He couldn’t out-logic his emotional response or the rejection he felt. He wanted her—and even more than that, helikedher, dammit. The flower witch had wormed her way past his defenses, and all the tonics and remedies in his apothecary couldn’t get her out of his system now. But it wasn’t up to him. She’d made her stance clear, and he could do nothing now but give her time and space, he decided. Nathaniel Marsh was not a man known for his patient manner, but for Violet, he could try.
