“Drink this. It might help you sleep.” Darcy grabbed a mug from his bedside table—one of the everlasting mugs from the fair—and held it toward me. The calming scent of cinnamon and chamomile wafted to me. “One of the staff brings a mug in every night,” he said in answer to my unasked question.
“Thank you.” I took a sip, and its warmth washed over me. Unsure what to do next, I simply held onto my magic while I skimmed my notes and sipped the tea. I read through the clues I’d gathered the last few days from my conversations with Darcy, Sable’s phone call, Steven’s interrogation, and everything else.
Somewhere outside, an owl hooted, and I took it as a good omen. Maybe my Portent would work after all.
“I think I’m ready,” I said once I finished my notebook. I put the empty mug on the bedside table and looked at Darcy, unsure of what to say. He squeezed my hand, andI nestled against the pillow, pulling the blanket up to my chin and evening out my breathing.
My magic combined with the tea, warming me from the inside and lulling me to sleep.
When I opened my eyes, I was outside Netherfield, but the tree leaves were ebony and their trunks ivory.
My heartbeat picked up. I’d done it. I was in a Portent. My itching nose and the sterile air confirmed it.
The flutter of wings overhead made me look up. An owl, my dependable guide, soared in a small circle overhead.
“Please help me find the killer,” I asked it.
The owl hooted softly, the sound jarring in this world of silence. It took off, flying around the corner of the house.
I chased after it, hope thundering in my veins as loudly as my footsteps were silent. I rounded the corner and darted across the lawn toward two figures standing by the lake.
Caroline and Louisa.
Drops of color bloomed around them, like they were flowers coming to life after a dreary winter. Caroline’s mouth was twisted in anger, and tears filled Louisa’s eyes.
The owl glided ahead of me, circling over the sisters’ heads a few times before settling on a tree branch.
I hurried forward to hear their conversation. Did they have something to do with what happened? I couldn’t afford to jump to conclusions again, not after having been so wrong, but maybe my Portent could give me answers.
“Lizzy!” A hand on my shoulder shook me awake.
My eyes flew open, and I was surrounded by the blues, greens, and gray of Darcy’s room. His green eyes were wide as they met mine.
“What did you do that for? I think I was about to find the—”
“Jane is awake.”
I flew out of bed, pulling Darcy with me. We raced down the hall, and I barged into her room.
Jane sat up in bed, the firelight playing off her face. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and Charles was urging her to drink a mug of tea.
My sudden rush of tears blurred her face, but this time they were tears of relief. I resisted the urge to throw myself on her. “You’re okay!”
“Lizzy?” She looked around, her gaze flitting from me to Darcy, then to Charles. “What happened?”
“You got hurt, but you’re okay now, or at least you will be.” My throat closed up, and I looked to Charles for confirmation, who nodded.
“What about the man we caught?” Jane asked.
“He isn’t the killer.” Unable to meet her gaze, I stared down at my hands.
Charles inhaled sharply. “Are you sure? I had my men look into him some more, and it seems like he’s been talking to a few people in town, including Frank Churchill.”
Steven was the one Frank had been talking to? Not that it mattered now. Steven had nothing to do with Easton’s murder.
My stomach tightened again, and I nodded. “We were wrong.Iwas wrong.”
“The man who has been following me is Easton’s brother,” Darcy said in a low voice. “He blames me for Easton’s death.”
