Chapter 10
Avery, too, was puzzled. He rubbed his jaw, muttering, “Surely Prince Dashnell hasn’t taken a fancy to Margaery?”
The notion seemed absurd.
To Avery, Margaery was spoiled, all airs and no grace, unfit to hold a candle to Tessa. There was no way she could catch a
prince’s eye
“No, we’re overthinking it,” he said, shaking his head. “Prince Dashnell’s seen every noble lady in the realm and turned them all away. Why her, of all people?”
“Perhaps the gemstone was a mere whim,” he added, clapping Dominic’s shoulder. “A trinket means nothing to a prince- forgotten by sunnse, likely.”
He gave a reassuring nod. “Don’t dwell on it, friend. You and Margaery grew up together. Her heart’s always been yours.”
“It’s just a fleeting spat,” Avery continued. “Give it a day or two, and she’ll come back to you. She’s the one who can’t let
Dominic nodded, but doubt gnawed at him.
Once, he’d been certain Margaery’s devotion was unbreakable. He held the power to turn away, not her.
Now, that certainty faltered. Avery’s words eased him, but unease lingered like a shadow.
“Something feels wrong,” Dominic murmured. “Let’s go to the Hall of Divinity.” He wondered if some ghostly force had swayed Margaery’s heart.
“I’m with you,” Avery said, resolute.
Through swirling snow, they trekked to the Hall of Divinity.
They secured a walnut–wood sword, but not without the high priest Simon Browning’s scorn.
“A living soul possessed by a specter? Is she raving? Senseless?” the priest mocked. “I expected better from the Wallen family than a fool with a head full of mist!”
“No saving you,” he sneered.
Avery fumed but held his peace.
The Wallen family’s power ruled the court, but the high priest answered to the heavens. One wrong, word could spark whispers of treason against the stars.
Swallowing their pride, they took the sword and returned, their goal met, if stung.
They went straight to Tessa’s chamber.
“Avery, Dominic,” Tessa whispered, curled on a cushioned bench, her voice faint as a dying breeze. “Why brave such bitter cold?
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Chapter 10
To see you, Avery sald, rushing to steady her. “You’re pale as frost. Is your stomach troubling you again?”
“Don’t fret.” Tessa said softly, though tears gleamed before she finished. “Father sent for medicine. I’ve taken it.”
Her tear–streaked face, fragile as a fading blossom, stirred pity.
Dominic’s heart softened. “How long must you endure this pain?” he said, urgency rising. “We can’t go on like this. We need a cure—how.”
He sat beside her, taking her trembling hand. Her fingers, cold and delicate, quivered like a newborn fawn.
“If Margaery wished, she might know a remedy,” Tessa murmured, eyes downcast. “But she’s never cared for me. I’d rather
not vex her.”
A tear fell, her frail form seeming to wane before them.
Dominic’s heart twisted. “Don’t cry, Tessa,” he said firmly. “You’ll hurt your eyes. Whatever it takes, we’ll get that remedy tonight.”
His voice held a fierce resolve, as if he’d storm a castle for it.
Tessa’s heart danced secretly. She knew a single tear could draw Dominic back, like a star to its sky.
Still, she played her part.
“Is that… wise?” she asked, her voice soft as she tugged his sleeve, fanning the flames. “What if Margaery takes offense?”
“Leave it to us,” Dominic vowed.
Even Avery’s blood rose against Margaery.
“She’s gone too far!” he snapped. “She knows Tessa’s suffered for years, wracked with pain, yet she hoards the cure!”
“Does she even care to be a sister?” he fumed.
The more he thought, the more he blamed Margaery for Tessa’s plight.
“Tessa, rest now,” Avery said. “We’ll find Margaery and demand that remedy.”
With that, they gathered the walnut–wood sword and a spirit–warding bell, then strode toward Gracewind Garden, their purpose alight.
In the drafty, dilapidated chamber of Gracewind Garden, Margaery swallowed the last of her bitter tonic and reached for the bowl of dregs to toss outside.
As she neared the door, a sword flashed through the gap, its point aimed at her heart.
She gasped, stumbling back and crashing to the floor, pain flaring through her spine.
Avery, her brother, and his shadow, Dominic, loomed in the doorway.
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Avery’s sword wavered as he glared. “Speak! Who are you? Where’s Margaery? Leave her body, or I’ll show no mercy!”
Dominic shook a brass hell, its sharp chime cutting the chilly air. Ghost hunters, of all things.
Margaery stifled a bitter laugh. “If you want me dead, Avery, just say it. No need for ghost stories.”
Wincing, the hauled herself up, brushed past them, and emptied the dregs in the courtyard.
Dominic, still jangling his bell, frowned. “A spirit would be thrashing by now. She seems… herself.”
Margaery shot him a glare, setting the bowl aside. “Lord Dominic, go fuss over my sister and let me rest.”
She turned to Avery, arms crossed against the cold. “I’m taking medicine for a chill. Is that a crime? If you don’t trust me, test the dregs yourself. Stop skulking like I’m a wraith.”
With a swift move, she pushed him toward the door. “Shut it. This room’s freezing enough.”
Avery faltered, his walnut–wood sword drooping. Before he could speak, Margaery snatched it and flung it into the frost-
dusted courtyard with a clatter.
He stared, stunned, from the blade to her face. “Are you… really Margaery?”
“It’s cold, Avery!” she snapped. “Can’t you see there’s no fire here? Or do you want me to freeze all night?”
Avery’s face darkened as he scanned the stark, icy room. “No coals?” he murmured, almost to himself.
Margaery’s glare was answer enough. Winter had gripped Gracewind Garden weeks ago. Even the servants‘ quarters glowed with coal fires, yet no one had spared her a single ember.
Tessa had crowed about it, vowing that as long as she ruled the Chancellor’s house, Margaery would shiver in her crumbling corner.
Her heart stung at the memory. She’d swallowed her pride, handing Avery the tonic recipe from Craig, pleading for him to charm a few coals from the steward.
He’d taken it and done nothing.
And now, he dared ask why her room was so cold.
B
AD
