Page 76 of Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore
Violet, his Violet, hadn’t just caused the blight.
She was also the Thornwitch.
Truths
Violet came to on the floor of her shop to the sound of broken pottery tinkling. She lay frozen, eyes still closed, as memory came back to her. Sedgwick had Peri. Peri had—orwas—the Eye of the Serpent. She had to stop Sedgwick, or he would bring Shadowfade back from the dead. She was out of time.
Her eyes snapped open to find Nathaniel sweeping dirt and broken pots into a neat pile. He’d folded his jacket and placed it beneath her head, she realized, though when she reached up to touch the familiar green wool, she saw thorns on the back of her hand.
Oh no.
Ohno.
Quick as a flash, she reined in the Thornwitch, returning to herself as he watched. She was Violet again, but it was too late. He knew—and not because she’d told him.
“Nathaniel—”
“Please don’t.” His voice was clipped, terse, back to the version of him she’d known in her first weeks in Dragon’s Rest, onlyworse because now there was something else in his tone she’d never wanted to hear from him: fear.
“I can explain,” she tried again. “Sedgwick, he’s got—”
“What is there to explain?” His sweeping grew frenzied, and he still refused to look her in the eye. Violet clutched the shredded remains of her shirt—hisshirt—around her as he furiously cleaned her floors. “You are the Thornwitch, are you not?”
Her voice was small. “Yes.”
“You came here after Shadowfade’s death to, what, hide?”
“To start over.”
“As aflorist?” Disbelief was written on his features.
“Yes.”
He laughed, but there was no humor to it. “And the blight?”
She reeled. “What about it?”
“You’re the one causing it. Don’t bother trying to deny it. I’ve figured it out. Your magic is all over it, after all. Were you lying about your hands to throw me off the scent?”
“What?No!” But a nasty seed of doubt was germinating in her heart. It was the second time today she’d been accused of being behind the blight, but something about Nathaniel’s words struck home. Her hands. That other spring of magic—what if it had never come from her at all?
With a sick feeling in her stomach, Violet searched her shop for a bloom that hadn’t been ruined and spotted a spider plant. She conjured a flower, a daisy, just like that day in the woods, only this time she concentrated on the spider plant too. The daisy sprung to her hand with a stinging tingle just like it had every time she practiced her new “good” magic. But her heart shattered when she saw the spider plant shrivel and blacken with blight. Violet had thought herself so clever, learning to use a source of magic that was different from the Thornwitch’s. But it had never been her magic at all.
Just as Nathaniel had explained to her, everything in the world had its own small reserve of energy. And Violet had been using the plants around her instead of her own magic, sucking them dry until there was nothing left but rot.
Magic had a cost, and every bouquet, every blossom, every sprout she’d grown for her shop had been paid for by theblight.
It was all her fault.
Nathaniel watched her prove his theory correct and nodded, as though checking a box on a list.
“I didn’t know,” she said, her voice cracking. “Nathaniel, you have to believe me, I didn’t know.”
He gripped the broom tighter and continued tidying her shop with stiff, wooden movements.
“I was right,” he said quietly, and the tone of his voice was worse than when they’d met, when he had disliked her. It was worse than disdain or annoyance or even the unreadable tone that had driven her mad in the beginning—this was disappointment, it was heartbreak, it was something shattering between them, and she’d caused it. “Shadowfade’s death did create a vacuum; I just never expected it would be you coming in to seize power and take advantage of us.”
“That’s not true!” Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. “I wanted to start over. I wanted a new life. I’m trying to stop Sedgwick before he—”
