Page 74 of Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore
“Thornwitch? Why? It’s who you are.” Sedgwick cocked his head. “Unless…”
She whipped her attention back to him.
“You couldn’t possibly think you’re fooling anyone with this getup, could you?” His expression turned delighted. “Don’t tell me this is more than a gambit? You’re not actually playing house here with this sad little shop and these sad little people?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think perhaps I do. Poor little Violet felt unloved andunappreciated by Papa Shadowfade. He betrayed you, after all. Stole you from Mummy.”
Violet hardened, the panic of that day in Silbourne coming back to her.
“You thought you could run away from it all and no one would notice one of the most powerful sorceresses in the world had set up as a florist, practically still in view of the castle?” Sedgwick laughed cruelly. “You’re not that stupid.”
“Leave,” she spat at him.
But he had wrested control of the reins, and the power made him brave. “I don’t think I will. You’ve gotten soft, Thornwitch. You’ve gone and thrown in your lot with this ridiculous little town, and unless you want them to suffer, you’re going to help me. Or I will raze this sorry place to the ground and tell everyone about your secret.”
“You’re mad. You think telling them I’m the Thornwitch will work for you? I know your secret too, Sedgwick. You’ll be ruined here just as much as I am.”
“I couldn’t care less about them knowing my identity. The shop was a necessity for me, and a temporary one at that. But no, I’m talking about your other secret.”
Her blood froze in her veins. He couldn’t know. The only other person who knew was Karina the Tempest.
Sedgwick smirked. “I have spent weeks preparing for this ritual. I have built the space in his Great Hall, preserved his body for his return. I have cared for his wounds, Thornwitch. I know exactly the weapon with which he was murdered. I know who drove it through his chest. And I can put a bigger price on your head—yours and the heads of everyone you care about—with that information than you ever could on mine.”
He knew.
Three moons, he knew.
And whether or not he managed to bring back Shadowfade, he would use that information to his advantage—and put not just Violet but everyone she loved at risk in the process.
Thorns erupted from beneath her skin, and from his fearful expression, Violet knew exactly how she looked: eyes glowing green, thorny vines snarling through her hair, skin spiny with armor that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Her clothes would be shredded, and as the buckets of flowers behind her shriveled and withered away with the force of her anger, she knew she’d have to regrow all her commissions before tomorrow. Magic flooded from her body, radiating around her in a way that felt almost like relief. It erased the residual sting in her palms, leaving only delicious, wicked power. Sedgwick wanted her to be the Thornwitch? Fine. Evil came as easy to her as breathing.
“What makes you think you can demand anything of me?” Violet’s voice was low, and she watched with satisfaction as he swallowed hard, trying to mask his fear.
“I demand nothing, milady,” said Sedgwick, backtracking. Violet’s mouth pulsed in a cruel smile at the deference in his tone. A part of her had missed this, the fear, the groveling. She was powerful, and why shouldn’t she show it? Sedgwick continued. “Although I am pleased to see you are still yourself.”
But there was still that tone to his voice, the one that said he knew he had something over her, something that could ruin her. He could control her with the knowledge of what she’d done. She would be his puppet, his plaything—unless she put a stop to this right now.
She laughed, knowing it sounded arrogant. Her magic swirled and eddied inside her, rejoicing. Being without this power had been like breathing with only one lung. The other magic, the one that hurt, had never felt this way. Somewhere inside her, VioletThistlewaite the florist pounded against the inside of her chest, begging her to remember…something. But no, she needed to scare him. She needed him to think she would end him, that he couldn’t intimidate her or control her. No one would ever force her into their service again. No one.
“You know nothing,” she told him. “Of me, of my power, of what Shadowfade was and was not. How could you? You are a weed, seeking opportunity to grow wherever you can. But a weed cannot uproot an oak. You do not know the extent of my power. You will never understand how far beneath me you are, how easily I could crush your roots. Leave this place and do not return.”
Sedgwick’s eyes had gone wide, and again triumph thrummed through her. She was proud of making him feel fear; shewantedto crush him. Tear the building down over his head. If he was dead, he couldn’t talk. She was—
Something bit her hand, hard, and Violet rushed back to herself, panting. Peri had latched his stony teeth on to the skin between her thumb and forefinger, not biting hard enough to draw blood, but enough to snap Violet out of the bindings of her past. She didn’t want to be that person anymore. Shewasn’tthat person anymore.
Sedgwick was still staring, but no longer at Violet. Complex thoughts raced across his features, too fast for her to follow. “That rock goblin,” he whispered, then cut himself off, his eyes darting back to Violet. “I’ll leave,” he said slowly, drawing his cloak around himself like a shield and curling his hands into his pockets. “I yield.”
It was meant to soothe her ego, and a moment ago, it might have, but Violet had shaken off the Thornwitch like snow from her cloak, and all she could feel was cold disgust. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want anyone to fawn over her or fear her. Thepeople at Shadowfade Castle had never known her, never wanted to know her, because they were too afraid of ending up like Bartleby or one of the hapless victims in the towns she destroyed. She would never have been able to build a friendship like any of the ones she had created here. She—
Glass shattered on the worktable in front of her, and a faint orange mist rose in the air. Before she could stop herself, Violet inhaled, registering an overwhelming scent like bitter wormwood and sickeningly sweet hyacinth. She wanted to grimace but suddenly found that she could not move her face. Her eyes darted to Sedgwick, who smiled triumphantly and used his cloak to cover his nose and mouth.
“I would apologize for this,” he said, “but I’m not actually sorry at all.”
Violet tried to lunge for him, to twitch her fingers and use one of the plants on the shelves to wrap him in bindings so tight he couldn’t move, but she was the one who was frozen in place. Her arms and hands felt tight, and her feet felt heavy. She teetered where she stood as Sedgwick chuckled.
“It will wear off,” he said smugly, “but by then I’ll be well on my way to completing the ritual.” He reached for Peri, who had also been rendered motionless by the contents of the vial. “I do thank you, however, for solving the final piece of the puzzle for me.” He tapped the big peridot in Peri’s chest. “I had just about given up on finding the Eye of the Serpent, and here it was right in front of me all along.”
