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Footsteps echoed down the hall. Heavy, because Marigold never had to live in the shadows like she had. She’d spent most of her life cozy and warm, her belly full. And she hadstillsold Briar out.

Briar had just enough time to drop the envelope and pick up the hairpin, not bothering to turn around. Only guilty people did that.

After the smallest flash of light, the door swung open.

Marigold spluttered. “Briar! What are you doing in here?”

“Getting my hairpin back.” Briar turned slowly, lazily, as if nothing was wrong. It was important not to panic in these situations. Even if everything in her wanted to grab Marigold, shake her until her eyes bled, and demand to know how much coin it took to betray her.

Marigold’s empty hands flexed at her sides. She was wishing she’d kept her staff with her, Briar realized. She was worried Briar had found out.

“You could have asked me to let you in,” Marigold said with a nervous titter. “Did you come in through the window?”

“Just teaching you to cover all your exits.” Briar grinned, making it as friendly as possible. She couldn’t give herself away now. She had to get back out to Wick. Had to formulate a plan.

Marigold laughed again, wiping her skirts. She was covered in crumbs from the bread she had been handling, a carrot peel stuck to her wrist from the vegetables she had been cutting when Briar went out to the waterfall.

“I guess you didn’t stay long,” Marigold said, nodding at Briar’s wet feet and damp pants. “Did your Skullstalker?—?”

Briar cut her off. “What did we agree you’d call the apothecary? Back when we were kids.”

Marigold paused, her hands tightening in her crumb-dusted skirts. Then they forcibly loosened.

Need to keep an eye on body language,Briar thought.I told you that, Marigold. You brushed me off.

“The Cottage Away from Home,” Marigold said, her smile genuinely soft. “You would get a friends and family discount for any potion you needed.”

“And sleep in the spare room anytime,” Briar finished. She tucked the hairpin into her pocket and strolled up, careful to keep her posture loose and easy as she walked. “Because I always have a home at the cottage.”

Marigold nodded. Her smile stiffened, her gaze dropping as Briar got closer.

“So,” Marigold said. “Where did your Skullstalker go?”

“He’s still washing. Getting that mountain smell off him; he’s a little strange about it.” Briar leaned on the doorway, making Marigold step out of the way. “I’m really happy for you, Marigold. You’re finally getting your dream. You just need to finish this one last job.”

“Right.” Marigold didn’t look at her. Her smile was wobbling, like she was waiting for Briar to ask exactly what that job was. She’d never gotten specific about it when Briar asked before.

But Briar said nothing. She just pulled Marigold into a hug, ignoring when Marigold stiffened.

“That friends and family discount better be huge,” she said into Marigold’s shoulder.

Marigold laughed nervously. “Of course! Of course. Anything for you.”

Briar inhaled deeply. There, underneath the smell of bread and vegetables, was the barely-there scent of lipseed, lingering on Marigold’s puffy hair.

Betrayal curled through Briar, as sharp as a stab wound.

“Oh,” Marigold said, leaning back. “I almost forgot. I just put the flower in to marinate. We should be able to remove your curses tomorrow! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes,” Briar said, her smile aching. “I can’t wait.”

Wick met her as soon as she stepped out of the front door. His loincloth was damp with river water, knotted messily, as if in a hurry.

“I am sorry,” he said.

He had been listening in. Or maybe he could just tell from her expression. Or he couldfuckingsmell it on her, the keen-nose bastard. He’d known her for a few weeks and saw past her better than any man ever could, and it infuriated her.

“We can leave,” Wick offered. “If she is not truly planning to un-curse us, we can find somewhere else. We still have your amulet, maybe some other witch?—”