Chapter 17: The Cup

Rosalind's POV

Keely came up the ridge at dusk with a loaf under one arm and an apothecary's ledger under the other.

She had wept at my funeral so well that two of the duty wolves had carried her home.

"I told him I needed it for the Luna's household accounts," she said. "He's an old man, and he cried too."

She put the ledger on the table and opened it to a page she had marked with a hairpin.

Silver-leaf, two ounces. For Miss Ansley Ferris, for the lavender fixative.

Paid in coin. Collected by the lady herself.

The date was the week before Alastair first said the word dissolution in my hearing.

Under it, in the apothecary's cramped hand: Asked for what the old healer uses for bullet wounds, but stronger.

"Nine entries since spring," Keely said. "Always her. Always the lavender."

I ran my thumb down the column of dates.

Caleb, standing at my shoulder, said nothing, and I could hear his breathing change.

"She started buying it before Alastair told me," I said. "She was sure he'd do it."

"She was sure of him," Caleb said. "That's different."

Keely looked from one of us to the other and went red.

"I'm going to sleep in the cart," she said. "Eat the bread."

She was gone before either of us could answer.

The hut was one room, with a hearth and a pallet and a lamp, and the wind pressed on the walls.

I stood with my back to the table.

I had thought I would be afraid when I saw it in ink.

I wasn't. I was clear, and I was cold, and under the cold something was beginning to burn.

"Come here," I said.

He crossed the floor without a word.

I put my hands on his chest and felt his heart going hard.

"You nearly killed him last night."

"Yes."

"I stopped you. I want you to know I'd have been sorry if I hadn't."

"I know."

"I'm still not finished being angry." I looked up at him. "I need somewhere to put it."

His eyes went gold, slowly.

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