It was him all along.
Wyatt is the one who told me my son had died. He’s the one who told me the doctors said it was a birth defect, but I never spoke with the physicians myself. I hadn’t needed to because Wyatt’s word was gold to me. His word has always been gold to me. It had always been more than enough.
“You killed my son,” I say.
“And your wife,” Wyatt confirms. “And your sisters-in-law. And soon,” he adds. “You.”
He pokes me in the chest, pushing me backward again, but I slug him hard in the face. Wyatt seems taken aback. He reaches for his lip, wiping away a drop of blood, and shakes his head.
“Oh, my lord,” he says calmly. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He reaches for the amulet he wears around his neck, one I seem to have never noticed before, and he spins it. Suddenly, I can’t see him. I hear him laughing, but I’m confused as I look around wildly.
“Are you wondering where I am?” He asks. His voice seems to come from everywhere at once. “Good. That means the confusing charm is working. You won’t be able to find me, good sir, at least until I want you to.”
This time, Wyatt hits me. He punches me in the gut and I keel over, crying out in pain. He laughs, and the sound seems to surround me, wrapping around me like a hug I just don’t want. Suddenly, I’m seized by guards on all sides who drag me down the aisle of the cells. I see Billy’s face pressed to the window. His mouth is shaped like a tiny “O” as he watches what’s happening to me.
Good.
I want Bill
y to see this.
At the very least, if I die, I want Billy to know that I had nothing to do with any of this.
Other faces appear at the cell windows: faces I haven’t seen in a very long time.
Faces Wyatt told me had moved or gone away.
Faces Wyatt told me had been lost.
I’m shoved into a cell at the very end of the row. Suddenly, Wyatt appears again beside his guards.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” Wyatt says.
Then the cell door slams shut.
I stare at the door for what seems like an eternity, and then I look around my new home. The cell is dark and dank: exactly how I remember the dungeons being. I walk around for a minute and then I sink the floor.
“Hey, your highness,” a voice from the next cell says.
“That would be me, I suppose,” I say.
“Welcome to hell,” the voice says cheerily. “And good luck. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter 6
Rose
I LEAVE LUTHER’S HOME and realize I need to find a place to stay. It’s already past lunchtime. It’s past when I should have had the potion. I’ll have a few more hours of daylight, but once darkness comes, there’s no way I should be lurking around the city. No one should. Not after Wyatt’s bold move. I don’t even know who this guy is, but I know he’s dangerous, and I know he’s not afraid to steal people.
I manage to find a random bench I can sit on near a little park, and I collapse on it. There are trees all around me, which at least gives me the illusion of being isolated.
I twist the amulet to give myself a little bit of privacy. Usually, the spell works for a few minutes. I’ll at least have five minutes to myself to look at this book without anyone noticing. I don’t think there will be any passers-by, but I’m not from here, so I really can’t tell. The last thing I need is to draw any more attention to myself.
I need to hurry up and find some anquan potion. I’ve already wasted almost an entire day trying to get this stuff. Who knows how long Tulip actually has? I hate thinking of her and Daisy being at home, alone. I know that Daisy is scared, but she’s also so very brave. Still, it seems cruel that I left her alone while I came to find the potion. It seems totally wrong and mean, but I have to do this for all of us.
Finding privacy in the city is much harder than I ever thought it could be, but the bench seems like a quiet haven as I pull the book out and yank it open. At first, the pages appear to be completely blank, which is perfect, really, since it means I grabbed the wrong book. That doesn’t make any sense, though, because it was so carefully hidden away. Why would Luther hide a blank book? Why would he hide it away? Why would he take the time to do something like that if the book didn’t have some value?