Page 54 of The Messengers of Magic
Carolyn shook her head as she pulled a glass from the cupboard. “No,” she said firmly, flipping the glass over and using its base to flatten the dough balls into discs. “There’s no way Pen would have left like that. Not without a word. That wasn’t who he was.”
Her voice wavered slightly. “This is why I hesitated to tell you. I was afraid you’d think I was just some daft old woman with too many stories, like everyone else.”
Adelaide’s stomach knotted. “Of course I don’t think that,” she replied quickly, leaning forward and putting her hand on her aunt’s. “I believe you.”
Carolyn stilled, her eyes searching Adelaide’s face. Whatever she found there seemed to satisfy her. She turned away and lifted the heavy pot from the stove, and drained the vegetables. Steam billowed up, curling into the ceiling, like ghosts escaping the past.
Adelaide believed her, at least, that Carolyn believed in what she was saying.
It must be easier for her to accept the idea of a curse than to confront the idea that Rowland might have simply left her behind, choosing another life over the one they’d planned.
And Pen’s disappearance had only solidified that belief.
“So, now you can see why I don’t want you making the Feather Thorn your new life.
” She tipped the steaming vegetables into a casserole dish, the colors vibrant against the pale porcelain.
Then she turned her attention to the stove, where a fragrant sauce of chicken broth, milk, and spices bubbled in a saucepan.
“I do understand,” Adelaide said. “But I also feel this is where I’m meant to be and what I’m meant to do.” She paused. “How about this, I promise you, if I find anything strange or suspicious, I’ll leave it well alone.”
As she spoke, her hand drifted unconsciously to her back pocket, fingers brushing the outline of the key. Carolyn’s warnings should have been enough to make her hesitate, but instead of caution, they sparked a deeper curiosity. What could this key possibly unlock?
Carolyn finished assembling the vegetable pot pie, laid the dough discs on top and slid it into the oven.
The smell lingered, rich and savory, as she moved to a nearby cabinet and pulled down a bottle of whiskey and two small glasses.
She poured a generous dram into each, carried them to the table and set one in front of Adelaide before settling into the chair across from her with a sigh that sounded equal parts tired and relieved.
“My sweet little Addie,” Carolyn said with a dry laugh, swirling the whiskey in her glass.
“You’ve always had a hard head. Stubborn as a mule.
” She took a swig of the amber liquid, her eyes twinkling with wry affection.
“I suppose if that story didn’t scare you off, not much else will, now will it? ”
Adelaide chuckled lightly, meeting her aunt’s gaze.
“I suppose you’re right. I’m pretty set on it.
” She hesitated for a moment, then decided to share what she’d done earlier that day.
“I painted the stairway wall today… and found your paintings,” she added after a beat, hoping to shift the mood. “I didn’t know you painted.”
For the first time that evening, a small, genuine smile broke across Carolyn’s face. “Once upon a time, I did,” she nodded, then took another sip.
“Why don’t you anymore? You were good.”
The smile faded. Carolyn’s gaze drifted, unfocused, somewhere far beyond the kitchen walls. “After Rowland…” Her voice was quieter again. “I just couldn’t find the inspiration. The world that used to feel so vibrant, so full of color, it all went dull and gray.”
Adelaide felt the heaviness of those words settle over the room like a heavy blanket. She knew that feeling. How the light could fade so quickly to dark. She’d lived it, the slow fade after Jeff’s betrayal, when her own world had seemed drained of life and purpose.
“I understand,” Adelaide said gently. “Would you like me to bring the paintings to the apothecary? You should have them.”
Carolyn shook her head, the empty glass still in her hand. “No. Keep them at the Feather Thorn. It’s where they belong.” She set the glass down. “What color did you paint the wall?”
“Emerald green,” Adelaide replied, a faint smile forming at the memory. The tension in the room began to ease, the air lighter somehow. Carolyn had given up trying to change her mind. Surrender, it seemed, was simmering alongside the vegetable pie.
“Interesting choice,” Carolyn said after a thoughtful pause. “I’ll have to come by and see it sometime.”
There it was. Not approval exactly, but a quiet acceptance. Carolyn wasn’t fighting the current anymore. Instead, she seemed to be drifting with it, her resistance softening into reluctant acceptance. Adelaide wouldn’t be giving up on the Feather Thorn or her dreams.
But acceptance wasn’t the same as understanding. And silence settled over them again. Adelaide couldn’t help but wonder: Were her great-aunt’s fears rooted in truth? Or were they just the shape grief took when left alone too long, the ghosts of loss?
Adelaide ran her thumb along the rim of her glass, caught between skepticism and curiosity. Was the Feather Thorn truly a keeper of dark secrets, or just the shadowed canvas of Carolyn’s grieving heart?
Either way, there was a key in Adelaide’s pocket. One that might just hold the answers. And something told her it was time to find out what it unlocked.