Once, she’d caught Edison digging in the garden and she’d managed to steer him away. Had she done this with too much urgency and alerted him to the potential of digging up more than just seeds?
She lifted away more soil, continuing until she heard the clunk of metal on metal. Bending to her knees, she scooped at the earth with her fingers, clawing the chest until it came free. It was still here! And it was heavy. Too heavy to be empty.
Setting the chest down on the ground she worked on it, prizing off the lid and running her hand over the black velvet cloth that encased the book.
Very carefully, she peeled back the velvet, bracing herself to set eyes on the book once more.
She stared at the leather cover for a few moments, knowing something was wrong but it was like her brain had stalled and she couldn’t work out what it was.
The book was black when it had once been brown. The embossing was in gold when it’d once been silver. And the name of the book was not the one she’d been expecting. She ran her finger over the words, trying to understand how this book had ended up in here.
Princess Snow and the Magic Mirror.
“Edison!” she breathed. “What have you done?”
He had to have taken her recipe book, replacing it with this storybook she’d seen kept by the Queen’s bed when she’d cared for Tate and Edison in the early days of their life.
But why had he chosen this specific book and not left the chest empty?
She turned the cover of the book and there pressed in the pages was a dried valerian root—an ingredient in a recipe she knew far too well.
That was when it hit her. This was a sick joke. The storybook had belonged to the Queen, who had no doubt died as a result of that very recipe. Edison was telling her that he was responsible. Her son’s heart was not just gray, it was as black as the velvet this book had been wrapped in.
She leaned to her side and heaved, her stomach expelling its contents, making her wish it was her memory that could do that instead. Edison had given her a message and it was one that she didn’t want.
And if he’d killed the Queen, then no doubt the Guardians who’d fallen ill had to have been his work, too. Burying the recipe book in the garden hadn’t been enough. She should’ve burnt it. How many people would still be alive if only she’d done that?
He must’ve thought he was so clever finding it and replacing it with a book of the Queen’s. Well, she’d show him what clever was. He may be cunning, but he wasn’t as clever as he thought he was. She may be too late to save the lives he’d already taken, but she could put a stop to any further evil he had planned.
Placing the book back in the chest, she lowered it into the earth, picked up her shovel and re-filled the hole, arranging the parsley to cover the recently disturbed earth.
Going to the kitchen window, she very carefully went to the shutters, moving slowly so as not to catch Edison’s attention. She peered in, having to put her hand over her mouth when she saw two mushrooms on the workbench. Innocent and white, they may look like any kind of mushroom to the uneducated, but Ariel knew what they were.
Death cap mushrooms. Just as fatal as their name implied.
Edison had been taught how to identify these mushrooms from an early age, despite them having been eradicated from the palace gardens. Where had he gotten such a thing?
The Bay.
It all became clear now. He’d been so keen to help her by fetching her supplies of kelp from the Bay. No doubt he’d sought out other ingredients while he was there. There was a whole black market going on in the grounds of what had once been the King’s palace. A person could buy anything they wanted for the right price. She’d once considered procuring her own supply of valerian root to help her sleep when her worries about her son had first begun to grow roots of their own. But knowing how deadly it was when mixed with skullcap, a common ingredient in the Guardians’ tonics, she’d disposed of it, not wanting to risk an accident.
The Queen had been one of the palace’s biggest consumers of skullcap. Was it possible that somehow Edison had gotten some valerian root into her tonics? Or the Guardians’ tonics? That would fit with the slow and painful deaths they’d experienced.
But it seemed there was a more pressing problem in front of her, in the form of the death cap mushroom. There was nothing slow about a death by this fungus. It would be as fast as it was effective.
There was only one reason Edison could be cooking with them. Her son, who she’d raised to be the best person he was capable of being, was planning to murder someone else. And adding valerian root to their tonics wasn’t fast enough. Whoever he wanted to kill this time, he wanted them gone. Fast.
But who?
She watched as Edison sliced the mushrooms into fine slivers and added them to the pot. His face was impassive. Not the face of someone who was about to commit the worst sin imaginable.
Ariel stepped away from the window and made her way back into her home, wiping her filthy hands clean on a rag. There was no point going to her bed. Sleep wasn’t going to come to her. She had to figure out what she was going to do.
Was Edison planning to poison Pip after the wedding had taken place and he had the title of Prince? Although, surely, he’d want to have an heir before this happened to firm up his position in the palace.
Was the poison for the King? But this didn’t make sense either. Edison had the King right where he wanted him. He’d be a fool to kill him now.
Perhaps it was for one of the other Guardians? Everyone knew how much he despised them. Could it be for River?
Ariel gasped as the obvious answer came to her. It was for Tate! It had to be. With Tate gone, Pip would be the heir. And when Edison was her husband, this made him exponentially more powerful.
Ariel had to find a way to warn Tate. To make sure he didn’t accept any food or drink from anybody he didn’t completely trust. No doubt in the dungeon he wasn’t being too fussy right now.
She’d honestly thought that if she raised Edison right and put enough time and love into him, that she could make him a better person than the one he was born to be. It seemed his father’s genes were too strong. But she didn’t want to think about him now. She had to figure this out alone, just like she had to do everything else alone.
Maybe things would be different moving forward. She had Pip back in her life now. And she had Tate, once she figured out how to get him out of the dungeon. She wasn’t going to let Edison poison him.
She’d die stopping him if she had to.
PIP
THE NOW
Pip walked down the aisle, wondering if she looked as miserable and uncomfortable as she felt. Surely, she did. Although, River had told her she looked beautiful when Elise had helped her into her dress.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to look beautiful. Not for Edison, anyway. Perhaps it would’ve been better if she looked a wreck. But her mother had wanted her to wear her wedding dress one day and this would be the only wedding she’d ever have. It would be an insult to her mother’s memory not to wear all these yards of the kingdom’s finest woven thread.
The dress was so heavy, but Pip liked the way it pressed down on her. The constriction made her feel safe and the veil over her face was doing a great job at helping her pretend she was anywhere except where she was. But still, her heart beat wildly knowing how many people had gathered at short notice for the privilege of attending a royal wedding. She’d wanted to slowly immerse herself back into society, not plunge in with rocks tied to her ankles. For that was how she felt right now. Each step was an effort beyond what she was certain she was capable of. But the only way to get this over and return to the safety of her bedchamber was to keep moving forward. One painful step at a time.
The throne room had been set up with seating on either side of a wide aisle and through her veil, she could see Edison and her father waiting for her on the platform in front of the throne. As complicated as her feelings were for these two men, it was easier to focus on
them than the crowd of strange faces staring at her. Judging her. Comparing her to how her beautiful mother had looked in this dress.
Her steps were slow and measured and she wondered how long she could stretch this out. Each step took her closer to marrying a man she didn’t trust. A man she was certain was going to kill her one day.
If only Tate were here. He’d be standing there in the front row, his smiling eyes urging her forward, reassuring her that he’d look after her as he’d always done. Either that or he’d step in and put a stop to this sham of a marriage. If it hadn’t been for Tate, she’d have wasted away in her bedchamber years ago. He’d given her love and attention and made sure she kept going no matter how hard or lonely life had felt.
As she got closer, she could see River at the front of the room standing beside Ariel, so she focused on them trying to draw strength from the two people who understood her.
Her footsteps pushed forward and far too soon she reached the end of the aisle where Edison reached out his hands for her, greedily snatching at her veil and dragging it up, leaving her face bare and her soul exposed.
She smiled at him, aware that her pretense at joy was failing to reach her eyes. Instead, her chest grew tighter and each breath became harder to draw into her lungs.
“You look lovely, my dear,” said Edison, the genuine joy more than prominent in his eyes. This was the day he became a Prince. A day he’d manipulated her into giving him, by pretending that he loved her. He wore a dark suit with a deep blue robe over the top and she could see a hint of his leather cord around his neck. The one he’d let her wear as a symbol of his love, until he’d asked for it back so he could wear it to their wedding. She’d happily given it to him, not wanting to have anything of his around her neck. His presence alone was enough to choke her.
“Thank you,” she said, curious to know if any part of him had ever loved her. Or did he hate her? Perhaps he felt indifferent. She was just a pawn in his sick game to rise to power in the kingdom. He really didn’t care about her either way and for that, she hated him even more.
Her father cleared his throat and began to say the words that would bind them together for the rest of their lives, however long that may be, and she found herself retreating within herself. She wasn’t really here. She was back in her bedchamber with the blankets pulled up to her chin and Prin on the pillow beside her.
But the racing of her heart and the droning of her father’s voice told her that wasn’t true, so instead, she focused on the window over Edison’s head and imagined she could see the spirit of her mother in the sunlight instead.
Protect me, Mother, she urged the light. Don’t let him kill me.
She listened as Edison promised to love and care for her for the rest of their lives and she said the same to him, the hollowness of her words echoing around this soulless room.
When the deed was done and they were proclaimed to be husband and wife, Pip obediently tilted her head to receive Edison’s kiss. A kiss that would once have set her heart on fire, but now did nothing but turn it to ice. How could she have thought she wasn’t worthy of this man? He wasn’t worthy of her! He wasn’t even worthy of the air in his lungs.
He broke the kiss and stood tall, smoothing down his blond hair with a satisfied smirk.
The crowd of people cheered and Edison took her hand in his raised them in the air in triumph, a gesture that elicited more cheers as the people stood and threw petals at them.
If only she was marrying a good man with a good heart, it would be the most beautiful and romantic moment of her life.
They walked back down the aisle, hand in hand as they accepted the good wishes of the people. Pip’s fingers itched to pull the veil back over her face.
“She’s just like her mother,” a woman said to the person beside her.
Pip knew this wasn’t true. Well, not on the outside anyway. But perhaps she was like her mother on the inside? Had her mother felt like this on her wedding day? Pip couldn’t remember any affection between her parents and her father certainly didn’t seem to be mourning his wife’s loss too greatly. Was that why she’d been sure to tell Tate and Pip to marry for love? Not because she wanted them to have what she had, but because she wanted something different for them. Something better.
It felt like history was repeating itself. No wonder her mother had taken to her bed so often over the years. Sometimes it was easier to hide under a blanket than face your reality. After all, that’s exactly what Pip had been doing all these years.
They walked from the throne room into the palace courtyard where a feast had been set up. The combined aroma of all the ingredients hit her nose and her mouth watered in response.
She could see plates of corn dripping with butter, roasted capsicums stuffed with rice and spices, bread loaded with tomatoes and basil, and small pies made from barley and tarragon. An enormous roast boar turned over a fire. The sight of all this food made Pip’s stomach turn in much the same way as that poor boar.
Could she allow herself to eat any of this without purging it later? Ariel said she deserved to eat. And she trusted Ariel. But her relationship with food was still complicated at best. She both loved and hated it at the same time.
Edison let go of her hand to go to the table with the pots of soup, leaning over each of them and sniffing deeply. Pip’s brow wrinkled at the sight of his nostrils twitching. How could she possibly have ever been in love with this man?
People were streaming into the courtyard now and some musicians had started to play a festive tune. She fought the urge to run. This was all too much, too soon. It was even worse than walking down the aisle. So many people, so much noise and so much movement!
She went to the wedding table and took her seat before her legs crumpled underneath herself. Her breath was coming fast now as if in competition with the beating of her heart and she did her best to try to slow her body down before her dress completely stuck to her with the cold sweat she’d broken out in.
River patted her gently on her back as she walked past her to take her seat two places to her left, leaving a space where the King was to sit at the very center of the table. Pip caught the scent of the oils that Edison had brought back from Wintergreen. It was no wonder River had taken to wearing it so often. It had a way of calming the nerves. She really did need to try to get a bottle for herself.
A steaming bowl of mushroom soup was placed in front of her and Pip focused on it, hoping she’d be able to keep it down.
Ariel was seated two places to her right and she smiled at Pip with nothing but sadness in her eyes. But before she could talk to her, Edison sat between them and edged Pip’s bowl closer.
“Eat up,” he said.
“The King hasn’t eaten yet.” She raised her eyebrows at him. Nobody ate before the King. Surely, he knew something as simple as that?
“Of course,” he said. “It smells so delicious I just got carried away.”
A loud clatter sounded somewhere near the musicians and Pip turned her head to see what it was.
“Clumsy fool,” said Edison, craning his neck for a better look.
The crowd hushed for a few moments, but when they saw the noise had only been a cook dropping her ladle, they went back to what they’d been doing only moments earlier.
The King approached the table and Pip and Edison stood and bowed their heads.
“Are you happy?” the King asked Pip, as he took his seat.
She looked at him without answering. Did he really think she was happy? She’d begged him not to let today happen. He knew she’d no longer wanted to marry Edison.
“You know exactly how happy I am.” She patted her father’s cold hand.
“Then let the feast begin,” he said, bending his head forward and spooning a large gulp of soup into his mouth.
“You can eat now.” Edison pressed his elbow into her side to get her attention, as he tucked into his own bowl.
He sounded like Tate, always trying to get her to eat, afra
id that if she didn’t, she’d waste away.
She dipped her spoon into the soup and watched the hot liquid pool in the hollow. It did smell good.
But just as she was about to lift it to her lips, she paused. Why was Edison so keen for her to eat? He certainly wasn’t worried about her health. Had he poisoned her soup? Were his murderous plans coming into play so soon? Surely not.
“Eat,” her father said, draining the last of the liquid in his bowl directly into his mouth, his eyes locking on hers as liquid dribbled down the bristles on his chin.
The thought of the soup being poisoned added another even more complicated layer to her relationship with food. She needed food to live, but… was this particular food going to do the opposite?
The thumping of her heart resumed and she lifted the spoon to her lips.
“I said eat it, Phillipa!” Her father shook his head, his disgust for her even more apparent than usual.
She drew in the soup and swallowed, just as she was told, accepting that it was delicious, even if it was most likely going to kill her.
Edison smiled as she ate, eating from his own bowl, and making appreciative noises.
When she’d scooped the last of the soup into her mouth, Edison turned to her with a smile that made her skin crawl.
“Did you like that?” he asked.
Now certain she’d been poisoned, she contemplated how long she had to throw up before it took effect.
“It was lovely, thanks, but I need to freshen up now if you can excuse me?”
She stood, but Edison grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down in her seat.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said.
She winced as his grip on her tightened.
The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set Page 83
