Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore by Emily Krempholtz - 31

Pru waited for Violet at the edge of town, an empty satchel slung over her shoulder and a linen-covered wicker basket in her arms.

“You said you were running an errand,” she said with her Prudence-iest smile. “I thought I’d keep you company!”

But Violet’s nerves wound tight around her heart, kicking her pulse into high gear. She did not want company today. “Pru, you’ve done enough.”

“Please.” Her friend flapped a hand. “All I did was tell you a story, and that wasn’t helping, that was me confirming that you do not listen to my performances at Market Day because I’m pretty sure I’ve told that one at least three or four times since you moved here, so really, you’re the one who owes me.”

“Maybe later?” Violet squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ll buy you a pint at the Claw & Hoard?”

“Nope,” said Pru immediately. “I feel useless, I need to help, it’s a personality flaw, deal with it. So what are you doing? More research about the blight? Planning for the festival so we can present it at the town meeting next week? Ooh, are we taking a trip to the library?” Pru clapped her hands. “I’m a very good research assistant.”

Violet tried one more time. “I’m sorry, Pru. You can’t come with me.”

“If you’re saying that because you’ve talked to the librarian, I can assure you my being banned was a big misunderstanding.”

“I’m not going to the Dragon’s Rest library,” Violet blurted. “I’m going to Shadowfade Castle.”

Now why had she gone and admitted that? She felt naked under Pru’s stare—she shouldn’t have said anything at all—but then Pru cocked her head and smiled a smile that Violet had never seen on her before.

“I knew it!” She pointed a finger at Violet. “Breaking into the castle library was my idea, Violet! I knew you were trying to go without me!”

“It could be dangerous,” Violet warned.

“I love danger! I eat danger for breakfast, right alongside my buttered toast.”

“I don’t want to draw attention to myself in case there are…other people there or…”

“So I should leave my violin at home, is what you’re saying.” Pru snorted. “I can be quiet, you know. Besides, I brought snacks!” She hefted her basket and showed Violet the collection of flaky fruit pastries beneath the linen. “Guy gave me some of his leftovers from this morning’s market. Rhubarb turnovers and raspberry and vanilla cream tarts!”

Violet could feel herself losing control of the situation. She wanted to get to the castle, poke around the library to see if she could find some information about Sedgwick or the Eye of the Serpent, maybe have a good cry in her old gardens to take the edge off her emotions. She certainly didn’t want to have to explain to Pru how she knew her way around or have to hide what it meant to her to return to the place she’d called home most of her life.

But against her judgment, she could feel her resolve weaken when Pru’s mouth pulled into a pout. “It’s just, Nathaniel’s going to sequester himself in the greenhouse as soon as he closes for the evening, and I know he’s doing important work but I’m lonely , Violet!”

She chuckled, more than aware of Nathaniel’s singular focus. Her hands ached in response—she couldn’t say she had complaints about the new direction his experiments had taken. “Because your brother is usually such a charming conversationalist when he’s not busy?”

Pru’s expression turned sly. “ You certainly seem to think so, don’t you? Although I suppose the two of you haven’t been doing much conversing this week.”

Violet blushed; she’d walked directly into that.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” said Pru. “You’ve earned me ten stelle from Fallon!”

That took a moment to sink in, but when it did…“You bet on us?”

“Half the town’s been betting on you two. Quinn was convinced you’d hold out for another month, but I know my brother. He’s great at denying himself what he wants—until he isn’t.”

Violet groaned, her face going even hotter. She snatched a baked good from the basket and shoved it whole into her mouth, but even the buttery, flaky crust and tart rhubarb filling didn’t dispel her embarrassment.

Pru threw her head back and cackled. “You’re wearing his shirt , Violet. Don’t think I wouldn’t recognize it—I’m the one who spilled the tincture that stained the sleeve. You can’t have wanted it to be that much of a secret.”

Violet’s fists bunched beneath the too-long sleeves. The truth—that the shirt smelled like Nathaniel and she wanted to feel comforted as she revisited the castle—felt too private to divulge, so she said, “It’s not a secret, it’s just…new.”

Pru smiled triumphantly, and Violet got the sudden impression that she’d passed some sort of test. “I’m glad for you both. Nathaniel’s been through a lot—I think you’re aware of that.”

Violet nodded, averting her eyes.

“I was always jealous of him, you know. For following his dream. For leaving Dragon’s Rest. I wanted that—I’ve spent my whole life fantasizing about playing my way across the countryside, performing in Lokoa and Belakry and the Shards and everywhere in between. But then when he came home, and Mum and Da—” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, it never seemed to be in the cards for me. But he’s doing better now, and I think a lot of that’s because of you.”

Violet felt uncomfortable in an entirely new way now, one that made her feel warm and cold and light and heavy all at once. It wasn’t as if Nathaniel had changed, exactly—he was still grumpy and meticulous—but once the sunlight of that focus became trained on her, she found she could bloom. She rather enjoyed knowing that beneath the buttoned-up alchemist was someone playful who made her work for a smile and challenged her to understand herself and her magic on a different level. He made her feel like she truly could be better, but more than that—he made her feel like she was already so much better than she saw herself, like she could borrow his belief in her until she believed it too. She hoped that he felt the same, but she’d never been as good at people as she was at plants.

“I don’t know if I can take responsibility for someone else’s happiness,” she said finally.

“Perhaps not, but you’re a big part of it. And it’s good, really good, to see my brother happy again”—she pulled a face—“even if I never, ever, ever want you to explain the reason behind your redesigned worktable.”

“Oh, moons…” Violet muttered again. She’d cut the majority of the flowers from her accidental garden for bouquets—and Nathaniel, adorably, had insisted on keeping a few for himself—but it was hard to hide the way the table itself had sprouted a few leafy branches, which rained blossoms down on her work area, as well as two extra legs, which admittedly made it much sturdier even if her face went pink as a peony every time she looked at it.

“That’s all I’ll say about it, I promise,” Pru said, and her eyes glittered mischievously. “For now at least. Just know that the next time you two step foot in the inn, you’re going to be the center of attention in a way that will turn you both as red as one of these raspberry pastries, so either leave Nathaniel at home or let me know you’re going so I can be there to see his face. Now come on, I’ve always wanted to see what Shadowfade Castle looks like on the inside.”

So that was how Violet ended up on the steep mountain road with Pru at her side, a trail of flaky pastry crumbs falling behind them like they were marking the way back home.

Was the castle smaller or had Violet only built it bigger in her memories, she wondered as they drew nearer. Shadowfade Castle looked as dark and imposing as ever, its black stone ramparts shining like onyx in the aftermath of the day’s rain, mist rising from the mountain to cloak it as though its towers pierced the clouds themselves. She’d lived most of her life behind these walls, and for a long time she thought they would be all she’d ever know.

“So how do we get in?” Pru asked, munching on a pastry, crumbs fluttering to her bodice like autumn leaves on a forest floor.

“The gates are open,” said Violet quietly, gesturing to the sinister entrance, all black wrought iron bent at sharp, jagged angles. The gates barely hung from their hinges after the Tempest and her crew of heroes had destroyed them, and as she and Pru passed beneath the gaping arch of the wall, Violet shivered, suddenly paranoid that those doors would trap her here once more.

“Oh, wow,” said Pru, and Violet followed her gaze to the southeast gardens, where Violet’s hedge maze, overgrown with two months of neglect, was as vibrant and colorful as ever against the drab darkness of the castle itself. “I don’t think I expected the grounds to be so…gorgeous.”

Violet swallowed around a sudden knot in her throat, feeling strangely touched as well as extremely, unbearably exposed. “Yeah, well, the Thornwitch must have needed something to keep her busy,” she said, her voice strangled.

“The Thornwitch,” said Pru softly, eyes firmly on the greenery, “had a spectacular talent for landscape design.”

Those gardens were once the center of Violet’s life. And they were huge and gorgeous and grandiose, it was true—but all they made her feel now was sad for the woman she’d been, who had little else to live for. Violet was struck by the sudden realization that she’d lived more in the past few months in Dragon’s Rest than she had in over twenty years at Shadowfade Castle.

The feeling deepened as they opened the huge oak doors to the castle. It was musty inside, the air stale with disuse, though there was a cold draft coming from somewhere that swirled around them and made Violet tug her hands back into the sleeves of Nathaniel’s shirt like a turtle retreating into its shell.

“This place is massive,” said Pru in a hushed voice. “I can’t get over the fact that people lived here. It’s too big for me—though I bet the acoustics are gorgeous in some of these rooms.”

“Let’s hold off on testing those acoustics in case we’re not alone.”

As Violet’s eyes feasted on the banisters she’d slid down as a child and the ugly tapestry she’d once tried to set fire to as a moody teenager, Pru opened the door that led to the Great Hall, where Guy had celebrated campaigns and received guests.

“Violet, look at this.” Pru’s voice was grim. “Someone’s been here.”

Violet darted to the door and looked inside. Sure enough, the big space had clearly been in use. Tables had been shoved to the edges of the room, and the platform at the other end where a dais led to Guy’s seat was now set up with a workstation that looked decidedly alchemical in nature.

“Sedgwick,” said Violet. “It has to be.”

“Do you think this is where he designed whatever toxin is causing the blight?” Pru asked as the two of them crept forward.

Or whatever is inhibiting my magic , Violet thought. “It has to be.”

There was no sign of anyone else in the castle, but Violet still looked around nervously, checking the floor ahead of her feet. “Be careful where you step,” she warned Pru. “He seems the type to set traps.” She knew he was the type, she wanted to say, but she also knew she couldn’t explain how.

The workstation at the head of the room consisted of several large cauldrons, one of which was actively bubbling with something orange with an overpoweringly bittersweet scent. There were a few stoppered vials on a rack, each glowing vaguely green. Violet pocketed one. “For Nathaniel,” she explained. “Maybe he can make sense of it.”

Violet so desperately wanted to believe Nathaniel’s theory, that using good magic shouldn’t hurt her at all, that the pain in her hands was Sedgwick trying to stop her and not her own natural resistance to being good. And though Nathaniel couldn’t possibly understand the intricacies of why, it did make sense that her former nemesis would target her like this. If Nathaniel could fix it, then maybe Violet could stop the blight. Maybe then she could tell him the truth about herself, and he’d be so overjoyed at their success that he wouldn’t be upset with her.

She found an empty vial and carefully spooned a bit of the orange concoction into it, sighing wistfully as she slipped it into her pocket too. Hope, Violet was discovering, was as dangerous a poison as any, for it had spread through her veins quickly and ruthlessly, and it made her dread finding an antidote.

Meanwhile, Pru searched the table for clues about what Sedgwick was doing.

“ ‘Rate of decomposition,’ ” she read from a scribbled piece of scrap paper. “ ‘Time of revival.’ Is he talking about the blight, do you think?”

“He must be,” said Violet, looking for any notes or books that might tell them more, but there was nothing there. A large metal box, longer than Violet was tall, rested on one of the tables against the wall. Looking at it nearly bowled her over with a wave of unease.

“And what’s this symbol, do you think?” Violet’s gaze rose from the box and looked to where Pru pointed to the margins. Sedgwick had drawn a curling spiral slashed through with some kind of rune.

“I have no idea.”

“He’s drawn it several times,” noted Pru, turning over the scrap of paper and pointing.

Violet shivered. She didn’t like this. “Let’s see if we can find anything in the library.”

So Sedgwick had taken up residence in Shadowfade Castle, she mused, even if just part-time. And he was working on something in addition to looking for the Eye of the Serpent. It had to be the blight, and hopefully the sample in her pocket would give Nathaniel the edge he needed to reverse it.

But Sedgwick’s being here presented a different problem—if he was searching for the Eye, then he would have looked in the library. He was a person who knew the value of information, so he would have found and read any useful books already. Violet needed to get on the same page as him. Even if he was ahead in the race, she needed to catch up before she could surpass him. Sedgwick hadn’t been part of Shadowfade’s inner circle, though. Perhaps he wouldn’t have known where to find the truly rare texts.

Violet was lost enough in thought that she barely noticed they’d reached the library until she threw open the doors and noticed Pru looking at her strangely.

Right. She wasn’t supposed to know her way around.

“I, um,” she said awkwardly. “I found the library.”

Pru looked like she wanted to say something but closed her mouth. Finally, she said, “Yes, you did.” Then that odd expression disappeared, and she smiled, looking like her cheerful self once more. “I can’t wait to steal some books. I should have brought a bigger bag.”

Violet laughed, relieved that the subject had shifted. “Eat some more pastries and you’ll be able to fit a few books in that basket.”

While stepping through the gardens and into the castle had brought Violet sadness, being back in this library washed her with nostalgia. How many evenings had she spent here with Guy as a child, poring over magical texts and practicing her magic? The battered armchair in the corner still had the split in the leather where she’d accidentally grown a tree through the armrest, and over there at the window seat was where she’d sat anxiously before her first solo mission, looking out over the mountainside. She had been fifteen years old.

“You can do this,” he’d told her, his voice as warm as the father she’d pretended he was. “You are capable of so much more than anyone knows, petal, and we’re going to uncover it all together.”

Violet had kept her eyes on the window as she admitted, “I want to make you proud.”

“Ah, my darling, there is nothing under the moons that I am prouder of than you.”

That was the thing no one had ever understood about her relationship with Shadowfade, what Violet herself still struggled with. It wasn’t just that she’d worked for him; it wasn’t even completely that he’d raised her. It was that he’d encouraged her, trained her, empowered her.

Guy Shadowfade had loved her.

He’d done terrible things as well—to her and to others—and she wouldn’t, couldn’t, forget that, but moons, how she’d loved him too. And even now, with the full knowledge of what he’d done to her and what he’d taken from her, Violet knew that part of her always would.

Pru lurched toward the shelves, head cocked to the side as she scanned titles for anything that might be of use to them. “ The History and Mystery of Rock Goblins !” she exclaimed, pulling out a book and opening the cover.

“Maybe you can figure out why they’re so obsessed with your music,” Violet teased.

Pru guffawed and began to read aloud, “ ‘Rock goblins are magical beings, not biological creatures. They do not, to the knowledge of the scientific community, reproduce, and are only created when a being of immense magical power is—’ ”

“Why don’t you take that one home with you?”

“You’re right. I’m getting distracted already.” Pru tucked the book into her bag and resumed searching the shelves. While she was occupied, Violet made a beeline around a corner shelf to another row of books against the wall next to the dark, empty fireplace. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Pru was out of sight and twisted the ugly brass candlestick on the mantel, triggering the mechanism that opened the door to Guy’s private library.

It was clear even from a glance that Sedgwick had never set foot in this place. The study felt messy in an in-progress way, as though Guy had simply left the room and would return at any moment. An empty teacup on the desk. A notebook open to a half-scribbled page. A high-backed, overstuffed chair pulled out as if waiting for him to sit back down. Behind the desk, Violet spotted a dried rose in a vase and recognized it as one of hers. Softly, almost reverently, she touched the stem and tugged magic through her stiff fingers until the rose blossomed once more, petals soft and as vibrantly purple as the Thornwitch’s cloak. For the first time in weeks, the color didn’t make her recoil.

There was a bookshelf on the opposite wall, and Violet began her search there, abandoning her emotions in favor of single-minded purpose. Keeping an eye out for Pru, she found books on sorcery and on the Merethi Empire. Scrolls that contained workings for spells to raise the dead or curses that would make the target forget the people they loved most. But nothing that referred to the Eye of the Serpent or a magical blight. With a sigh, she moved to the desk, opening drawers and searching inside.

It was more of the same—detailed sketches of magical daggers, maps of the Darktide Isles, a contract in a language she didn’t recognize that appeared to have been written and signed in blood. And then—

A book, hardly bigger than the palm of her hand and embossed on the leather cover with the same symbol that Pru had found in Sedgwick’s notes. Frost blossomed through her veins. She opened the cover to begin reading the first page.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there reading. She took in words she didn’t understand and some she wished she didn’t. She traced her fingers over long-dried ink in Guy’s familiar handwriting, notes he’d pressed into the pages, probably in this very room, sitting in this very chair. She caught snippets she recognized from Pru’s storytelling, things about the Eye of the Serpent, and more about its power over life and death.

Hell and Undersea, the box in the Great Hall…

By the time Pru wandered into the open door of the study, Violet was slumped in the chair, staring out the stained glass window.

“This is a great room,” Pru said admiringly. “Shadowfade had style , I’ll give him that.” She held up a book and continued. “I found some great information about the legend. Apparently, there’s actual evidence that the witch and the warrior were real people who founded Dragon’s Rest. But while the story is the same everywhere it’s told, and there are reports of a dragon living in this region a long time ago, scholars take issue with the idea that they defeated the dragon as easily as they did. They must have—” Pru stopped, catching sight of Violet’s expression. “Violet? What’s wrong?”

Violet dragged her eyes up to meet Pru’s. “I know why Sedgwick wants the Eye of the Serpent,” she said quietly. “He’s not trying to seize power himself. He’s trying to resurrect Shadowfade.”