Page 12 of A Witch’s Guide to Love and Poison

12

A s if sensing she needed time alone, Xander was gone for some time.

Luna slept while Bisma stared off into the distance, unmoving.

Xander returned about an hour later, and this time, she actually saw him. He had changed and freshened up. With him, he brought a tray of food balanced atop a pile of clean cloth.

Around him, things came into focus again: the greenhouse, the aftermath of the bloody procedure, and she realized the bedraggled state she was in. Her clothes were covered with blood and reeked.

Xander set the tray of food down on the table, then approached her with something else in his hands.

‘Here,’ Xander said, holding a folded piece of clothing out to her. His voice was kind.

‘Oh.’ She blinked, taking it. The fabric was thick and soft, obviously expensive.

‘It’s an old dress of my mother’s,’ he explained. ‘Don’t worry; she won’t miss it.’

She looked down at her hands, which were still covered with her sister’s dried blood.

‘I’ll show you where you can wash up,’ he said.

She followed him outside the greenhouse, where a washing area was set up.

He lit the candles to reveal large basins filled with clean water, a small bucket for pouring, bars of soap, and a sponge. Xander pointed out the towels on a shelf, and she set the dress down beside them.

‘I’ll just be inside,’ Xander said. ‘If you need anything.’

‘I—Thank you.’ She met his eyes, hoping he understood just how much she meant it. ‘Really, Xander.’

He swallowed. ‘Of course.’

He left her, and Bisma tied her hair up into a knot, preparing herself. Then she stripped off her clothes, which she would be discarding now. It felt like peeling off a layer of skin, and she poured cold water over herself, then scrubbed with the sponge. She watched the water turn pink with the dried blood; she scrubbed and scrubbed until it was all gone.

Bisma took long, measuring breaths, her heart slowing. It was done now; there was no use in being upset about it. She ordered herself to be alright.

Grabbing the soap bar, she lathered suds across her skin, inhaling the scent. The soap smelled strongly of cloves, and when she washed it from her body, she found she smelled just like Xander.

Pressing her nose to her skin, she breathed it in. She closed her eyes, letting the scent calm her.

Once she was clean, she patted herself dry, then stepped into the dress. It was of a fine material, and the moment it touched her skin, she felt safe from the chilly evening.

The dress had a dark plaid print with full sleeves, though the neckline was wide enough that the sleeves were barely hanging onto her shoulders. The dress was long on her, for Eleanora was taller, but that was not the biggest issue.

The dress laced in the back.

Eleanora had maidservants to help her dress, of course, but Bisma had no such thing. She tried to reach across and lace it up herself but to no avail. The dress slipped off.

With a sigh, Bisma considered putting on her own dress, but she looked at the sorry state of it and her mouth soured.

Well, there was only one thing for it.

After drying her feet and putting on her shoes, Bisma slipped the dress back on. Holding the front of the dress in place, she walked back to the greenhouse.

Luna was still asleep, and Xander was leaning against the opposite table, watching her with careful eyes. When he heard Bisma come in, his gaze immediately went to her. His jaw went slack.

Suddenly, she felt exposed. Her wet hair was still up in a knot, tendrils falling down, but for the most part her entire neck was bare. His eyelids fluttered.

‘It laces in the back,’ Bisma said, hesitating. ‘Can you—’

He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering. He clenched his jaw, then nodded. ‘Come here,’ he said, his voice a command.

A shiver ran through her.

She went to him, holding the dress tightly in place to keep it from falling. Beneath her palm, she felt her heart race. Suddenly, she felt shy, not wanting to turn, for her entire back was bare.

Xander slid his hand over her waist. With the barest pressure from his finger, he turned her. She couldn’t help but gasp as he pulled the laces, pulling her closer to him. His legs bracketed her; she stood between his knees.

He began at the bottom, at the base of her spine, the pads of his fingers dancing across her bare skin. She imagined what it might feel like if he slipped his hands under the dress; it would be so easy—he could pretend it was an accident.

But he did not, which almost made it worse. The temptation hung there, like a sword swinging above her head, back and forth, waiting to fall. She wondered if he felt it, but she couldn’t see his face, which she was almost glad for. Her skin grew hot.

He continued lacing her up, tugging the strings tight, and Bisma briefly forgot how to breathe. His long fingers worked deftly but slowly, as if he was savoring it. Desire pierced through her, sharp and bright.

She felt his scattered breath against the bare skin of her shoulders as he finished, tying the laces in place into a tight bow. The dress was secured, but Bisma still held onto her heart as it pounded thunderously.

A single finger went down the laces, as if he was checking them, and she felt an electric current tingle through her skin with the movement. Then his hand settled on her waist, holding onto her like an anchor.

He was quiet, deathly so.

‘Is it done?’ she asked, her voice a whisper.

She received no response, but she heard his hoarse breath. A moment later, she turned. His hand moved with her body, shifting over her stomach, leaving a trail of heat in its wake as he held onto her. Blood roaring in her ears, she faced him.

Because he was leaning against the table, they were finally eye level, though his eyes were closed. She stood between his knees, their faces separated by a distance so paltry she could almost taste him, if only she put out her tongue.

It was disconcerting to see his face this close; she had the urge to run her fingers through his hair, down to the planes of his cheekbones, drifting lower until she reached his mouth.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

He still had not opened his eyes. He leaned closer, inhaling deeply.

‘You smell like …’

He opened his eyes, and the breath lodged in her throat. She could hardly see the green in his eyes; the pupils were blown wide, a bottomless black. He stood abruptly and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

His hand tightened at her waist, pulling her closer. His gaze went to her lips.

She wondered if he would kiss her. She had not been kissed in some time. Her terrible experience at sixteen had deterred her from love, but not from dalliances. She had kissed plenty of boys in the two years since that summer—always strangers, travelers who didn’t know who she was, and most importantly, always just the once.

She never got her heart involved.

To kiss Xander now was surely a bad idea; she knew that. But the way he was looking at her … she couldn’t help but draw nearer, her entire body pulsing in anticipation.

‘Bisma,’ he whispered, his voice strangled.

His free hand came up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and he cupped her face, his fingers soft against her neck. His skin was so warm it felt intoxicating.

He was trembling, as if exerting a great deal of power in holding himself back.

She bit her lower lip, hard enough to feel pain. ‘Yes?’

He opened his mouth—to say something or to kiss her, she would never know. For at that exact moment, Luna roused.

Bisma startled back, out of Xander’s reach. Her heart hammered.

Feeling hot all over, she rushed to her sister’s side.

Luna groaned, blinking blearily.

‘She’s awake,’ Bisma said, turning back to Xander.

He shook his head as if waking from a trance, or a dream, then slapped both his cheeks with his hands a few times. She thought she heard him mutter a curse to himself before he came over to Luna’s other side.

Together, Bisma and Xander helped Luna sit up.

‘What happened?’ Luna asked, turning to Bisma.

Relief poured through her at hearing Luna’s voice, at seeing her open brown eyes.

‘You’re okay,’ Bisma said, pulling Luna into her arms. ‘You’re okay.’

‘But what happened?’ Luna asked. She groaned. ‘I feel terrible.’

She pulled back, her gaze going to her arm, which was covered in stitches. Her eyes widened.

‘You were sick—poisoned, like Mei was, I think,’ Bisma explained. ‘But you’re alright.’

‘I remember …’ Luna trailed off, her face twisting.

‘What?’

‘I was dying,’ she said quietly.

Pain pricked Bisma’s heart. Luna looked so afraid.

‘I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you,’ Bisma said, trying to keep her voice strong.

‘Baji, I was dying .’ Luna’s eyes welled with tears, and she blinked them away rapidly, though they only came back. ‘I felt it,’ she continued. ‘And there was nothing I could do. Everything hurt so much!’

‘Lu,’ Bisma said, wrapping her sister in a hug.

What Luna had gone through was a traumatic experience. Guilt needled Bisma; how could she have let this happen? Bisma wouldn’t have let anything happen to her sister, but what if it had, anyway? What if Luna had died? She’d clearly come close.

‘I’ll give you a moment alone,’ Xander said, quietly stepping back.

Luna cried, and Bisma held her tight. When it seemed Luna’s tears had subsided, she let go, and pulled back to face Bisma.

‘Do you have any idea how this could have happened?’ Bisma asked. ‘Something you ate? Touched?’

Luna shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I was at home all day. I didn’t leave the Forest.’

Bisma didn’t understand. Something was getting into their home, poisoning them right under their noses—under her watch—but what?

And by whom?

‘Can we go home?’ Luna asked, sniffling. She brushed her messy hair aside.

‘Of course.’ Bisma helped her stand, but as Luna swayed, she had her sit down again. ‘Why don’t you drink some water first?’

Bisma saw the tray of food Xander had brought earlier; there was a pitcher of water and glasses on it. She poured Luna a glass, then handed it to her.

Xander watched from a corner of the greenhouse, agitated, running a hand through his hair; she could see he did not approach because he did not wish to intrude.

‘Just a second,’ Bisma told Luna. She went toward Xander, and he immediately went to meet her.

‘Anything I can do?’ he asked. He was bouncing on his feet, restless. ‘I can ask my mother for help, as well. She wouldn’t mind.’

‘It’s alright,’ Bisma replied. Eleanora would clearly do anything for her beloved son, but Bisma didn’t want her help. She didn’t quite know if she trusted Eleanora, and besides, even asking for Xander’s help was already too much. ‘I’ll draw up strengthening potions and give her something for the pain.’

She shuffled on her feet, feeling awkward and unsure. She wished to go back to the mindless bliss of a few minutes ago, Xander’s hand on her waist.

‘If there’s anything I can do, please let me know,’ Xander said, his eyes kind.

She nodded. ‘I’ll send over payment soon; it’ll just take me a while to arrange it.’

Anger flared on Xander’s face. ‘You can’t be serious,’ he said, making a sound of disbelief.

Bisma was taken aback; it was the first time he’d been truly upset with her. ‘I—I’m sorry.’

Xander exhaled, his face immediately melting. ‘No, I’m sorry for snapping,’ he said, his voice gentle. ‘I … I’m just—sorry.’

Bisma’s composure shook. ‘If there’s anyone who’s sorry, it’s me,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know how I could have let this happen.’

‘No, Bis, it’s not your fault.’ Xander brushed his thumb across her cheek, and she was unsettled to find it wet; she didn’t even know a tear had slipped out. She didn’t have the strength to push him away.

Instead, she shook her head. For once, she didn’t have anything to say.

‘Goodbye,’ she whispered.

She went back to Luna and they left the Chapman Estate to return to the Enchanted Forest. They walked in silence through the cold night. Bisma could not find any words, not even as Luna silently cried. She didn’t fully understand why Luna was crying; she was alright.

‘Lu, you’re okay,’ Bisma said, trying to reassure her. She put her arm around Luna’s shoulders.

‘I just feel so afraid.’ Luna wiped her cheeks. ‘It was so dark.’

‘Nothing is going to happen to you,’ Bisma said. ‘I promise.’

Luna nodded, though there was a distant look in her eyes. She needed time, Bisma decided. Then she would be alright.

Luna stopped crying when they reached the Forest, which was dark, though all the Unwanted Girls could easily maneuver it blind. However, at a turn, Luna tripped, stumbling.

Just as she was about to fall, Bisma reaching for her from behind, a branch crept out and caught her. Luna steadied herself, and the branch retreated.

As they walked on, Bisma looked back to where Luna’s foot had caught: there was a small puddle of murky water. That was … strange. The Enchanted Forest never had random elements out of place in such a manner. The creeks and streams usually all flowed seamlessly.

But perhaps Bisma was imagining it. In truth, Luna was weak, exhausted. That was why she had tripped.

‘Thanks, Forrie,’ Luna whispered. A breeze lifted to kiss her cheeks, and Bisma felt the same breeze against her own face.

But Bisma didn’t deserve to be consoled.

They arrived home, and from the bottom of the treehouse she could hear noise and commotion. Azalea was clearly bossing everyone around, and the girls were begrudgingly listening. They would have eaten dinner some time ago and must have been getting ready for bed.

Luna paused to catch her breath, and a branch reached down, twining around her body to carry her up. Bisma followed on the stairs, and she heard the noise inside fall dead silent as she came up the last step.

‘Luna!’ Nori cried, rushing to give Luna a hug.

‘You’re alright!’ Mei called.

The other girls crowded around, Deeba waddling over with Azalea behind her.

‘You look awful ,’ Azalea blurted. ‘What happened?’

Luna’s lower lip trembled, and tears sprang in her eyes.

‘She’s okay,’ Bisma said. ‘We got the poison out.’

But Azalea was right; Luna’s skin was practically gray. She had lost a lot of blood.

Without another word, Luna went up the stairs to her room, disappearing from sight. Which left the girls to stare at Bisma instead. She saw the accusation in their eyes, the confusion and the fear.

‘She’s fine,’ Bisma said, her voice weak. ‘Everything is fine .’

The words were hardly consoling, to them or to her. In truth, nothing was fine. Two of her sisters had been poisoned, one barely escaping with her life. But Bisma did not say anything else, for she did not know what there was to say.

Deeba was the only one too young to understand; she sat on the floor, gleefully knocking over a tower of blocks. Bisma went to her, and Deeba greeted her baji with the usual affection, which Bisma sorely needed. She hugged little Deeba tight.

‘Everyone get ready for bed,’ Bisma said, standing with Deeba still in her arms.

Nobody moved.

Bisma cleared her throat. ‘Come on, then,’ she said. ‘It’s getting late. Nori, Mei, get changed.’

They went up the stairs. Azalea paused, looking back at Bisma as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she didn’t.

Bisma changed Deeba, then took her to Mei’s room, laying her down in the cot with her favorite handmade doll. Mei was already in bed, though she was sitting up, eyes wide.

‘Go to sleep, OK?’ Bisma said, going to tuck her in. When Bisma grew near, Mei threw her arms around Bisma, hugging her tight. Bisma held her close.

Mei was trembling. When she pulled back, Mei looked afraid.

‘Baji, why couldn’t you help Luna the same way you helped me?’ she asked quietly. ‘She doesn’t look fine.’

She was not accusing, she was merely curious and confused, but it was hard not to feel the words as a reproach.

‘We tried, sweet,’ Bisma said, tears pricking her eyes. She blinked them away. There wasn’t anything else to say. She kissed Mei goodnight, then blew out the candles.

Bisma went to Nori’s room, where she was in bed with her stuffed rabbit, the one she never slept without. Nori was holding it tight.

‘All ready to sleep?’ Bisma asked.

‘Is Lulu going to be alright?’ Nori asked.

‘Yes, of course,’ Bisma said, though she did not know for certain.

‘Are we going to be OK?’ Nori asked, nibbling on her bottom lip. Her blue eyes were clouded with worry.

‘Yes,’ Bisma said, brushing aside Nori’s blonde hair. ‘Always.’

But as she left Nori’s room, she wasn’t so sure about that either.

Bisma went across the hall to Azalea’s room, where Azalea was sitting cross-legged on her bed, fiddling with her hair.

‘Go to sleep, OK?’ Bisma said.

Azalea looked at her, dark eyes slitted. ‘I don’t think Luna’s fine,’ she said. ‘What even happened? How did she get poisoned? Who did this?’

Bisma’s heart all but stopped at the accusation in her sister’s tone.

‘I–I don’t know,’ she said, her voice halting. ‘I’m sorry.’ What else could she say? ‘I’m doing the best I can, Azalea.’

‘Well, it’s not good enough!’ Azalea snapped, then stopped, surprised by her own words. She quickly got into bed, pulling the covers over her and turning her back.

‘Azalea—’ Bisma started.

‘Goodnight,’ she replied curtly.

Tears bubbled in Bisma’s eyes, falling down her cheeks, but there was no one to see. She went up to Luna’s room to check how she was faring, but Luna was already asleep, which was good. Sleep would help.

After checking on the girls, Bisma went down to the garden. She made a strengthening potion, then grew something for the pain, and took both up to Luna’s bedside table, leaving a note with instructions beside them.

Then there was nothing left to do. Bisma should have gone to sleep herself, but she knew sleep would not come despite how drained she was.

She went back outside, walking through the dark woods, letting her feet take her. As she walked, she listened to the sounds of the birds and crickets and frogs; she wasn’t alone, but she felt so terribly lonely.

Thoughts swam around in her mind. Would Luna truly be OK? The poison was out of her, but Bisma was afraid Luna had been permanently affected by the experience.

Bisma ended up by Mirror Lake, the water a glistening black as it reflected the moon above. Bisma took off her shoes and clothes—thankfully the dress was much easier to undo than it had been to lace up—and waded into the lake, letting the calm waters fold over her. Though the night was cold, the magic of the Forest meant the water was always warm.

Bisma lay down, floating beneath the moonlight, staring up at the stars. Usually, such an exercise helped to soothe her, but tonight it hardly made a difference.

Sometime later, she dragged herself out of the lake. She did not wish to put Eleanora’s old dress back on; she remembered Xander’s firm hands lacing her up, and a shiver ran down her spine. She felt a dozen emotions sparking together inside her, and any moment now, she would burst into flames.

Luckily, the Forest had anticipated her needs and brought out clothes and a towel for her. She dried herself, then slipped on the thick, soft nightgown, relishing the cozy, comfortable fabric.

Bisma returned home, where everyone was sound asleep. She tiptoed up to her room, lighting a candle and pulled out a piece of paper.

Tears slid down her cheek as she wrote, one plopping onto the page. She brushed it aside, smearing the tear stain with ink. She continued writing her letter, as if perhaps by writing, she might remove these feelings from within her and seal them away on the paper.

The most horrible thing has happened. My sister nearly died. I’m so afraid. What if this happens again? What if I can’t save her, or any of them? I am not fit to be their baji, or to even be in this family.

What am I doing here? What am I doing at all?

How do I rid myself of all the bad parts? I suppose that’s a trick question, for if I removed all the bad, surely there would be nothing left.

I wish there was a way to quietly slip away from time, to no longer be known, to no longer exist or have ever existed at all. To simply be replaced by someone better, someone good.

Bisma