Page 52

Chapter 46

Lotte

Lotte wondered if, deep down, Modesty suspected what she had done.

Modesty’s graveside weeping was gone, replaced with insouciance as she perched on a settee, a green tulle skirt spread out below her, as if this were just another party. Not the funeral of someone she had killed.

She must know what she was capable of. She had done it so easily.

Lotte had made a mistake thinking that she and Modesty were using each other equally. Modesty had been playing her own game, trying to push Lotte out of the family. Trying to destroy Nora. She saw it now, how she had slid inside Lotte’s mind. Planting an insidious seed that had grown there.

Lotte had spent her whole life with other people’s thoughts intruding on her mind. But she hadn’t mistaken any of them for her own thoughts. It had felt so desperate and so urgent, her need to find her father. But now she had no idea whether she’d ever truly cared or if that was Modesty’s influence. And it made it hard to untangle how she felt now, knowing the truth.

Knowing that her father was a Rydder knight. That there was nowhere to turn for another life if she lost the Veritaz Trials.

Lotte had felt out of place in the Holtzfalls’ world. Today more than ever as her family mourned a cousin she had only known for a few days. They shared a past with Constance that didn’t include Lotte. She didn’t have any stories to share. Or any grief to offer.

But she couldn’t imagine herself among the Rydders either. Holding a sword, defending the lives of the Holtzfalls. Would that be what happened to her if she lost the trials? Would she be sent to train with Theo, be expected to die for Modesty and Nora and Clemency?

From the corner of the wake, Lotte found herself watching Benedict stand at her mother’s shoulder. Hunting again for some resemblance between them.

The moment Nora had shown her the reflection of Liselotte Rydder dropping blood on the charm, Lotte had known. If a knight was her father, then it was Benedict. Benedict with his missing memories. Benedict sent to guard Grace while she hid her pregnancy in a convent. Benedict, who everyone said had been meant to protect the next Heiress, but stayed firmly by Grace’s side years after she lost.

Did he suspect? Lotte wondered. That desperate surge of protectiveness she had felt when she first met him. She had thought then it was duty and oath. But maybe distantly, he remembered.

“You want to duel ?” Modesty’s loud scoff drew Lotte’s attention from the other side of the room. “Over a headline .”

“Well, you know me.” Nora was all haughty anger. “I’m a great proponent of truth in the press.”

Nora had been avoiding Lotte all morning. The last thing she would remember was her betrayal coming to light. She wouldn’t remember that Lotte had forgiven her. Or that the factory break-in splashed all over the headlines had been Theo’s doing in a desperate bid to keep his oath. There would be time to tell her, after the funeral, Lotte thought. But now this was all about to go too far. Whether Nora wanted to listen or not, if she was planning on picking a fight with Modesty, she needed to know how dangerous their cousin really was.

Lotte moved toward Nora, but a servant cut across her path. “Miss Ottoline.”

Lotte recognized her. It was Abigail, the maid who had taken Lotte under her wing when she had snuck into the mansion disguised as a servant. But the brief moment of gladness to see her faded fast as Abigail kept her eyes on her feet, her head bowed. Lotte was a Holtzfall now, not a fellow servant.

“Miss Ottoline, your grandmother has summoned you.”

“Why?” Lotte’s stomach dropped in fear, Nora and Modesty’s squabble forgotten. Her grandmother must know that Lotte had read the memorandum charm. There was no other reason she would call on Lotte alone.

Abigail kept her head bowed. “Follow me, please.”

Lotte dreaded walking down that portrait-lined hallway again. Generation upon generation of Holtzfalls sneering at the rogue branch in need of trimming from their family tree.

But instead, Abigail led her out of the house. Back through the gardens toward the distant corner where they had held the funeral. Past Constance’s fresh grave, deeper into the trees that each marked the body of a Holtzfall being returned to the earth. Until the trees towered over them. The portraits weren’t enough, apparently. Her grandmother wanted her to walk through the ancient grave markers of her family.

But when they reached the edge of the woods, it wasn’t Mercy Holtzfall waiting for Lotte.

Two men stood in plain clothing.

One was about Lotte’s age, the other had a graying beard and weary face. He was leaning on a shovel. It was only then that Lotte managed to place them.

The gravediggers from Constance’s funeral.

A grin spread across the young gravedigger’s face. And Lotte’s heart kicked up in fear. These men hadn’t come to dig Constance’s grave.

But before Lotte could turn and run, the younger gravedigger was on her, pinning her against the nearest tree, twisting her arm hard enough to make Lotte cry out. “Quiet,” he snapped. “Or we’ll cut your tongue out too.”

Behind him, the other gravedigger peeled himself off the shovel with the weariness of a man who’d had a long day at the job and just wanted to get this done. “What did we agree, a thousand?”

Abigail wouldn’t meet Lotte’s eyes as the older gravedigger counted out a thick wad of bills.

“Abigail.” Lotte gasped out the other girl’s name, ignoring the order to stay silent. She could tell by the thoughts leaking through the press of his hands against her that cutting out her tongue was an empty threat. Not because he didn’t have the stomach, but because he didn’t have the time. “Why are you doing this?” The young gravedigger jerked her back against the tree hard, but it was enough. Enough to draw Abigail’s guilty gaze off the ground, even as she took the wad of bills.

“Edmund.” The name came out small and choked. Edmund Rydder, the young knight who had been sent to guard her more than once. The one who tended to look bored while his sister, Hildegarde, jabbed him in the ribs to stand at attention. “I can’t let him die in service to your family.” Abigail desperately clutched the money to her chest. “I’m sorry, but we have to run before it’s too late.”

With that, Abigail was gone, vanishing back through the graveyard to the house, leaving Lotte alone with two men at the edge of the woods.

“All right, Miss Holtzfall.” The old gravedigger rubbed his hand along his beard, then paused. “Or should I call you Miss Rydder?”

They knew.

They knew that her father was a knight.

Nora had sold her out after all.

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter what her name was. “We should get started.” And with the same weary efficiency, he drew a knife.