Page 12

DULCE

With trembling hands and tears pricking her eyes, Dulce dropped to her knees and spread her fingers along the earth, trailing the cracked lines in the dirt.

Gray dots erupted across the tree’s exposed roots, its sickness spreading.

The witch’s magic had infected her mother’s tree, a Tree of Life—its death was beginning.

However, the ancient bristlecone pine had not been destroyed yet.

She peered up at the sky—darkness didn’t reign over her world, though the sun was very much hidden behind the dark clouds of the slate gray sky.

Dulce pressed her hands on one of the roots, its small pulse thrumming against her fingertips, the tree’s energy slowly being siphoned away by whatever curse the witch had cast. A struggle within the tree stirred, a sense of sickness flowing through its network.

Soon, the timber would die—and so would everything else in the land.

How long did they have before it was too late? Her mother’s letter didn’t mention where the other four trees were located, but she had an inkling the witch knew.

“I wish I had known sooner, Mother,” she whispered.

Grasping the skirts of her dress, Dulce ran through the deep burgundy hollyhock garden, leaping over small bushes dotted with plump blueberries, and rushing like a madwoman to the back of the manor.

Her staff lingered in the family cemetery, safe and sound, unaffected by the panic that threatened to overtake her.

Vesta hummed a happy tune while picking weeds and placing them into a wicker basket, while Lucas dropped down into the grave where Dulce was once buried.

A loud creak of the casket reverberated as the young man shut the lid.

Sylvan wiped the back of his hand against his sweaty brow, his smiling gaze meeting hers.

“I know this villainous lout doesn’t deserve it,” he explained, “But this was the easiest place to bury Mr. Cornelius quickly until you know the witch’s motives.

” He reached down to the grave and helped his grandson out.

Vesta frowned, lowering the wicker basket. “I don’t believe the pompous boar bladder deserves to be buried on Dulce’s property at all. Even temporarily.”

Dulce’s chest heaved, and she stepped toward them. “You’re quite right, Vesta. A murderer doesn’t deserve such honor, even in death. But since we’re short on time, this will have to do. Temporarily, of course. ”

Sylvan and Lucas collected their shovels from beside one of the headstones and began filling the grave with dirt.

Dulce’s breath quickened as her panic rose. They needed to focus on the reason why she’d hurried to find them. “There’s something wrong with Mother’s tree,” she announced. “I found a letter in her spell book, and—”

Her words ceased falling from her lips when she caught a glimpse of a few locks of white hair floating near one of the hazel trees.

She recognized the color instantly and knew precisely who they belonged to.

Why had the thief returned? And why was he sneaking around like a sly fox?

Was her jewelry not enough? Had he returned to creep into her manor, consumed with greed, determined to take more of her things?

In a low voice so that only Vesta could hear, Dulce said, “One moment. I’ll return shortly.

” She then left the servants and circled the garden’s laurel hedges until she stood just behind Reed, his gaze fixed on the cemetery, where Sylvan and Lucas continued to cover the grave and Vesta returned to her task of plucking weeds.

Reed no longer wore his tattered cloak from the night before but another, more luxurious version of the garment.

She wondered if he’d stolen it or used some of the money he’d traded for her jewels to purchase it.

Perhaps he didn’t have a brother at all.

“Returning so soon?” she cooed.

Reed cursed under his breath and spun to face her. “You’re a stealthy one.”

“And it would seem you’re not.” Dulce pursed her lips.

He smirked just before his face softened. “Your husband tried to murder you?”

“Ah. A thief and a snoop.” She folded her arms, regarding him. Reed seemed genuinely concerned over what he’d heard. Shocked, even. “If you must know, yes. He tried to poison me.”

“And so you stabbed him, repeatedly.” He nodded in understanding that truly wasn’t understanding at all.

“On the contrary,” Dulce started, wondering at how flippantly the thief spoke of murder. “I only gave him a little scare. It was his own cowardice that got the fool killed.”

“Sounds as though he deserved it anyway.” Reed shrugged, frowning up at a Pesquet’s parrot that squawked.

“Yes, well…” The thief was even more handsome in the daylight, but Dulce had more important matters to attend to that involved life and death. “Why are you here, Reed? Did you not get to help your brother?”

“No, Philip is healing perfectly, thank you. However, I, uh”—he folded his arms and leaned against the tree—“the thing is, I was arrested. Because of the jewelry you gave me.”

Dulce gasped, her eyes widening. “Did you tell the enforcers I’m alive?” Sudden fear coursed through her at the thought of the witch learning that she lived. That the woman would know Dulce would try to stop her curse.

“I happen to be a gentleman of my word.” Reed pushed from the tree with the heel of his boot, the movement graceful as a dancer. “But perhaps you can go to the jail and tell the enforcers yourself that I am no graverobber.”

No graverobber indeed , she thought .

“I would love to help you.” Dulce smiled. “But the thing is, I can’t. Just yet.”

“And why is that, Majesty?”

“Since you left, I have … learned of much more pressing matters.”

His deep brown eyes fixed on hers, Reed arched a brow, his white hair falling across his forehead as he scowled at her, making him somehow even more handsome.

“And may I inquire, if it’s all right with Your Worship, how long do you estimate these pressing matters will take?

Not to be an inconvenience, but with every enforcer in the vicinity after me, I find that I don’t have anywhere else to go. ”

This man was a stranger, and yet, even though it meant danger to himself, he had kept her secret.

He had saved her life by freeing her from her grave.

He had helped her when she was weak and hungry, dying of thirst. She felt bound to him in a sense—she had to admit this, even if only to herself.

And now, they were both in hiding. For different reasons, yes, but hiding all the same.

He had escaped capture and clearly knew more about the dangers of the world than she did.

Maybe, just maybe, they could continue to help one another.

“Last night after you left, I discovered a witch here with Cornelius. They’d gotten rather close , it seems, and she put a spell on my land.”

“A witch.” His gaze was full of skepticism as he ran a hand along his jaw. “Cast a magic spell.”

“Yes. I saw her with my own eyes,” she insisted. “I’m not mad—there’s no reason to look at me like that.”

Reed continued to look at her exactly like that .

Dulce warred with herself. Should she tell him everything she knew? If she wanted his help, she would need to trust him with something of the truth.

“There are five trees across the territories whose magic helps to give our world its vitality, its life,” she confessed. “If their power is disturbed, which the one on my land has been, thanks to this witch, it will be very bad.”

“Very bad…”

“Yes, there will be catastrophic consequences. If the trees turn to stone, life can no longer be sustained here in Moonglade or the neighboring lands. The foliage and animals will also become stone, our water sources will turn undrinkable, and our air unbreathable. The sun will disappear, shrouding this entire region in darkness. My tree’s roots already show signs of sickness! ”

Reed blinked, seeming to not understand what a dire situation they faced.

“Total annihilation.” He nodded. “Got it. Not exactly what I was expecting you to say as your reason for not telling the enforcers you’re alive and that you gave me your jewels, but… Wait, why are you hiding?”

“I need to find this witch myself. To make her reverse her spell.”

“Ah, you have heard of the enforcers ,” he drawled. “Why don’t you ask them? It would help us both out, wouldn’t it, Highness?”

Dulce laughed without humor, her panic rising. This was a waste of time. He knew nothing of magic. Just as most in Moonglade didn’t. Sometimes she didn’t understand why she needed to keep her being a witch a secret, yet after reading her mother’s letter, she knew why. To keep the Tree of Life safe.

“Powerful witches can be capable of terrible things if they wield their spells in a way that goes against the laws of magic. The enforcers would be no better than Cornelius within mere moments, useless against her.”

“Mm-hmm.” Reed nodded, but she could see he still thought her mad. “Describe this witch to me—maybe I’ve heard of her.”

Dulce narrowed her eyes. “She’s incredibly tall, strikingly beautiful, her hair is the shade of rubies, and she rides a white stallion.”

Reed’s lips curled up at the edges, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“You know her?” She bit the inside of her cheek, hope filling her chest.

“Not personally, no.” Reed tsked. “She’s not from around here, but I saw her once in the Glen, outside the apothecary.

Not a woman to be trifled with, if you believe the stories.

They say she works for the Duke, a woman most fear.

The apothecary unquestionably did. I’m fairly certain he pissed himself when she arrived.

She has a reputation for making those who cross the Duke disappear. They call her La Bisou Morte.”

“Death’s Kiss?”