Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Prologue: Be Good
Until
very recently (eight minutes ago, in fact), the blood spattering the
outside of Karina's brand-new tunic had pulsed inside the heart of the
dark sorcerer known as Shadowfade. Brock, the knight she traveled with
who did most of the laundry, would be appalled when he saw it. But
Karina the Tempest, Protector of the Queen's Realm of Mereth, chose to
think of the stain as a rather dashing and intimidating addition to her
look as she strode through the castle grounds, blade in hand.
Karina
searched for movement atop the black stone battlements that stood watch
like hulking sentinels over the expansive gardens. The carefully
groomed paths flanked by topiaries and flower beds were full of
poisonous blooms, no doubt, but greener and more cheerful than she would
have expected from a villain like Shadowfade.
None of this was
as she expected. With as fearsome a reputation as Guy Shadowfade had
amassed, vanquishing him should have been much more of a trial. Her
lingering concern whispered that this had been some elaborate trick.
But
Karina would have time for those thoughts later. One way or another,
the sorcerer was finally defeated and his minions scattered, meaning it
was up to Karina and her companions to make sure they could cause no
further harm to the Merethi people.
"She went into the hedge
maze!" Maggie cried, her long legs a blur as she sprinted in the
opposite direction, her staff in hand as she chased another
foe-hopefully that dreadful alchemist who had burned through Karina's
favorite pair of boots with his poisons. "Brock and I will take care of
the others!"
Karina nodded curtly, her eyes dragging on her
partner's form for only a second longer than necessary before she took
off into the hedge maze, sword gripped tightly in her fist. As she
navigated the twists and turns of the maze, she kept an eye out for
danger. She wouldn't have put it past Shadowfade to fill his grounds
with tricks and traps, but the maze was strangely pleasant, its greenery
on full display despite the late-winter season, and its corners staged
with cheerful pots of colorful flowers. Like everything else about
today, it didn't meet her expectations, and it only put Karina further
on edge.
At the center of the maze, in a wide, round clearing, she found the one they called the Thornwitch.
To
look upon the Thornwitch, it was said, was to look your death in the
eye as it reached for you with vines that strangled and flowers that
poisoned. The Thornwitch had destroyed the crops of an entire county
with a single wave of her hand, dooming them to famine. She had torn
buildings from their foundations by roiling the roots beneath them and
disrupted trade routes by tearing apart roadways and growing
impenetrable forests of the poisonous thorny vines for which she'd been
named. She could command anything that grew and twist it to her dark
purposes.
She was a monster, or so Karina had always heard.
Hideous and deformed, some said, though others swore she was a temptress
more beautiful than Evry, fearsome goddess of the second moon. When
she'd fought her back at the castle, Karina had gotten only an
impression of thorns, spiny like the quills of a porcupine, and eyes
glowing like fox fire.
But the woman in front of her was sitting
serenely on a garden bench like a young lady enjoying afternoon tea, not
like an infamous trafficker of cruel poisons and punishments for the
sorcerer's enemies. Gone were the thorns that sprung from her skin like
spines and harshened her facial structure. Gone was the unearthly glow
from her eyes and the vines that sprouted from her back like wings,
slinging clouds of toxic pollen. If not for the iconic purple cloak
puddled at her feet, Karina wouldn't have recognized her at all.
She
was young, late twenties if Karina had to guess, and without the thorns
that she had been named for, her face was soft and round. Pretty, in a
homespun sort of way, with pale, freckled skin, thick brown hair that
tumbled over her shoulders like vines reaching for a hold, and
honey-tinted eyes beneath soft-angled brows. A white scar, perhaps the
length of Karina's thumb, tracked down her face just to the right of her
nose, slightly puckered where it bisected the edge of her lips and
tugged one side of her mouth upward in a permanent smirk.
She
would have been popular in a tavern, Karina judged, though of course she
had nothing on Maggie's elegant beauty. Still, there was little to
liken her to the monster of the stories or the villain she'd seen just
minutes ago.
"Hello," the witch said softly, her voice high and clear.
Karina
raised Flamebright, putting the sword between her and the witch, though
she was realizing now, too late, that she was surrounded by plants.
Here, the Thornwitch could incapacitate her with a twitch of her
fingers, which were covered in dirt and curled tight around a long,
sharp branch, still filthy with blood from the fight. The Thornwitch
followed her gaze and allowed the branch to crumble to dust, leaving
dark stains on her fingertips that matched the black silk of her tight
clothing.
"Why haven't you killed me yet?" Karina asked, her voice like brittle steel.
The witch only blinked her long lashes. "Should I have?"
"We're surrounded by plants."
"Well, yes. This is my garden, after all." The witch paused. "Are you here to kill me now?"
Karina
hesitated. If anyone had asked her even twenty minutes ago, her answer
would have been a resounding yes. "I don't know. Do you want to die?"
She lowered her gaze. "I don't deserve to live."
"That's not what I asked."
The
Thornwitch's chin trembled, though she quickly got herself under
control. Karina hid her surprise. The witch in the stories felt no fear,
only anger and hatred. But stories-she knew well, being one
herself-were just stories in the end. Made of equal parts truth and
lies, and it was often impossible to be certain which was which.
There
was more to the Thornwitch than Karina could fathom, and more still she
didn't understand. She had fled to the hedge maze, but why did she stop
here? Why wasn't she fighting back? Her mind snagged on something the
witch had said. Karina looked around at the center of the maze-the
ivy-covered bench where the Thornwitch sat beneath a large flowering
shrub heavy with pink flowers, the koi pond edged with round, smooth
stones, the lush flower beds filled with buttery daffodils and the tall
jut of foxgloves. "This is your garden?"
The Thornwitch looked around, fondness shining in her eyes. "Yes."
Karina
remembered the tidy room she'd found in the castle, with a small bed
and potted flowers and leafy vines crowded in the doorway to the
balcony.
And a lock-on the outside of the door.
"You made all of this."
The
witch did twitch her fingers then, but instead of carnivorous plants or
thorny vines, a flower burst from the ground next to Karina. From
amidst its splayed, fingerlike leaves sprung several clusters of vibrant
purple flowers.
"It's gorgeous," Karina murmured, her fingers
stretching toward a flower, half afraid it would sprout teeth and sever
her fingers.
The witch tossed her head back and laughed. "It's monkshood. Incredibly toxic."
Karina snatched her hand back.
"All
of this is poison." The witch gestured at her garden. Bitterness
stained her words. "Nightshade. Foxglove. Oleander. Even the ivy-it
might look pretty but all it does is destroy."
"But what else
could you do?" A thought bloomed in Karina's mind, tickling her with the
gentle press of a hunch. "With Shadowfade gone, you could create
something good."
"Good is not in the Thornwitch's nature." The witch's words were scornful, but there was curiosity in her brown eyes.
"And the woman behind the Thornwitch?"
She
jerked back as though Karina had drawn her sword, her jaw tight. The
hero studied the villain whose name was spoken at a whisper throughout
the countryside. There was something in her expression, behind that
angry, suspicious mask, that looked a lot like wistfulness. Uncertainty.
Hope. Karina thought back to the castle, to Shadowfade's final moments.
The words on his lips with his final breaths.
Truth and lies, she thought. Both stand before me, but which is which?
Karina
decided. "The Thornwitch dies here today. But you-whoever you are
without her-don't have to. You could do so much better. You could be
good."
The Thornwitch looked confused as Karina sheathed her
weapon. The ivy on the bench detached itself to curl gently around the
witch's ankle in what looked like a gesture of comfort.
"Just be good," Karina told her. "And don't make me regret this."
Chapter 1: Welcome to Dragon's Rest
Grimy
puddles filled the missing cobblestones in the streets of Dragon's
Rest, pockmarks of muck that spoke louder than words of what had become
of the town. In the decades since Shadowfade had built his fortress on
the craggy peak that towered over the edge of its borders, Dragon's Rest
had gone from a prosperous community to a mountainside ghost town full
of closed shutters and chipped paint.
The letter Violet had
retrieved from the post office said she could meet her new landlord at
Wingspan Green, and the postmaster said she'd know the town's largest
park when she saw it, but despite the directions she'd scrawled on the
back of the parchment, Violet was hopelessly lost.
"How does
anyone navigate this place?" she wondered aloud, looking up at the
darkening sky. Rava and Evry, two of the three moons, had already come
to life for the evening, illuminating the hand-painted street signs on
the corner. Evry was nearly full, and Violet was glad-she could use some
of the goddess's bold nature now. Dragon's Rest wasn't a large town,
but its winding, sloping streets curved and twisted like an errant vine
creeping up a stone wall, looking for purchase.
"Are you lost, dear?" A tall elf woman with pale skin and a saffron-colored hair wrap approached Violet, her smile kind.
Violet
ducked her head behind the potted plant in her arms. There was no
reason for anyone in Dragon's Rest to recognize her, not unless she lost
control of her magic, but still, she felt a spike of concern at having
to interact with strangers.
No one will recognize you, she
convinced herself. Still, Bartleby the pothos, with his broad,
heart-shaped leaves, was a good disguise. Sensing her hesitation, the
potted plant patted her on the shoulder, his flat leaves either
smoothing the wrinkles in her cloak or trying to strangle her. It was
often hard to tell with Bartleby. "I'm looking for Wingspan Green?"
The
woman pointed back in the direction Violet had just come from. "You
just missed the turnoff. Head that way and take a left at the first
corner, then keep going straight. You can't miss it."
"Thank
you," said Violet, peeking out from behind Bartleby to offer the woman a
smile she hoped didn't look threatening. She was leaving that life
behind. She was going to be good now, like Karina the Tempest had told
her to.
Sure enough, now that she was headed in the right
direction, Wingspan Green was easy to spot from several blocks away. The
large, circular park was surrounded by battered storefronts with faded
awnings. It was carpeted with green grass and lined with trees, which
were just beginning to bud in defiance of these last stubborn days of
winter, and the very presence of the greenery made Violet breathe a
little easier. Paths meandered through the space, dotted with benches
and a few small tables as well as what seemed to be a platform near the
center, though it was blocked by a huge rock formation that looked as
though it had tumbled down from the mountains sometime in the last
thousand years and had since been tucked into bed beneath a blanket of
moss.
Bartleby shuddered.
"Oh, shush you," Violet scolded him.
Before
he had been turned into a plant, Bartleby wouldn't have just argued
with her, he'd have towered over her and threatened bodily injury for
shushing him like a child. He still managed to find ways to menace
Violet on a near-daily basis, but she'd been careful to remove all sharp
implements from within reach of his vines before they set off for
Dragon's Rest.
"I think it's lovely," she said now, both to
herself and to him. "The place has loads of potential." She stepped onto
the grass, wishing she were barefoot so she could feel the soil beneath
her toes. No flowers anywhere, but then, without magic like hers, it
was too early in the season yet. Cesenne, the goddess of the third moon,
whose phases heralded the changing of the seasons, would soon wax anew
as spring began, and Violet suspected the park would liven up then.
Perhaps once she'd settled and opened her shop, she could add a few
flower beds to give it some splashes of color. A pang of longing for her
gardens struck her, quickly suppressed by complicated relief for her
own freedom.
She would plant a new garden here in Dragon's Rest
and open a shop where she could sell her flowers. Just the thought of
surrounding herself with blooms all day made her feel lighter. No one
would have to know who she once was or how she'd once used her magic.
She bent to stroke the grass and couldn't resist releasing just a bit of
power from the well deep in her core. As easy as exhaling, especially
under the moons, her magic spilled into the grass, making it grow tall
enough to tickle Violet's wrist and wrap lovingly around her fingers in
the one embrace she'd cherished her whole life. It was hard sometimes,
when she did little things like this, to remember that her plant magic
was evil at heart, but she'd done enough terrible things as the
Thornwitch that she couldn't deny it.
Your own mother knew the
truth about you, whispered a voice in her head nearly as recognizable as
her own. She saw the darkness in your magic and she abandoned you for
it. You are so lucky I found you, petal. You will always have a home
with me.
But now Shadowfade was dead and that home was gone.
If
she could keep that dark part of herself locked away, perhaps Violet
could call this place home. Yes, it was dingy and a little
weather-beaten, but then, so was she. Here, she could finally start
over. Maybe she would learn who she could be without Guy Shadowfade.
Without the Thornwitch.
The Violet who opened a flower shop in
Dragon's Rest would have no idea what it was like to watch the life
leave someone's eyes. She'd never have heard the wails of an entire
village as she sank their homes into a bog that hadn't existed before
she swept into town. Bartleby was simply a fondly named houseplant, not
one of her former adversaries who'd spent the last half decade
transformed into a potted pothos.
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