“But now you’re here, pet. That’s all that matters.”
I pulled my hand away and buried it in my coat pocket. My fingers touched the hilt of my knife, cool and familiar. A reassuring comfort as I trailed the vines and leaves decorating it.
“Do you believe in curses, pet?” The question caught me off guard but it was easy enough that I didn’t need to think about it.
“I don’t.” It wasn’t a lie, but the words felt shakier than they would’ve months ago.
“I wouldn’t have thought so.” She paused, then added, “Your mother did.” She adjusted her night-sky gloves. “She believed Thornhill was cursed.”
Knowing my mum, that didn’t surprise me. She believed in a lot of things. Magic. Tarot readings. Ghosts… She used to tellme bedtime stories about creatures with no eyes, forests that moved, mirrors that could lie.
“She was a fanciful child,” Lilian went on. “But she was convinced the house was watching her.”
I felt a question linger behind her words and my gaze lifted to the house. To the stone gargoyles that peered out from their perches, their mouths gaping in permanent screams.
“Was that why she left?” I asked, and Lilian tilted her head, her thin lips curling. It wasn’t quite a smile, it never reached her eyes.
“She feared what Thornhill was,” she murmured. “I believe curses aren’t things one can dismiss by simply choosing to believe in them or not. You have to look beyond them.”
My brows knotted. For a moment I contemplated telling her about what I saw last night, then I realised she would think I’m mad and I would find myself back home faster than I could argue for my sanity. So I stayed silent.
“You remind me of her.” Lilian stood. “I only hope you appreciate what fate has in store for you, unlike your mother did.”
The words made me go rigid. What was that supposed to mean? And why was everyone talking in riddles? While I was sinking by the weights of my questions, she turned and began to walk back through the maze, her voice trailing behind her like a forgotten spell.
“Little Swan, Little Swan,
Resting on a lake,
Careful now where you sweep!
The ice is thin, the wind is cold,
Little Swan, Little Swan,
You will freeze into a statue...”
The air chilled. Lilian slowly disappeared around the corner, the hedges closing behind her, her voice dying by the wind. Thornhill stood waiting, looking the same as when I arrived. Old walls hiding secrets. And maybe, but not likely, curses.
But it also held the key to my mum. If she was a puzzle, piece by piece I could uncover the parts she had locked away from me. The parts she had buried and thought I would never find.
CHAPTER TEN
ELODIE
After Lilian left, I stayed behind, my gaze glued to the manor’s towering form. Then my attention shifted to the package in my hands. I looked around, making sure I was alone, before tearing away the blue wrapping paper.
A book was nestled inside, with a mossy green cover and faded letters that read:
Encyclopaedia of an Enchanted Garden - Healing Herbs and Vicious Plants.
My head cocked on its own. Why would Hudson Lamont give me this?
Its spine flaked under my touch as I opened it. The first page revealed a colourful drawing of a flower above a handwritten inscription. The blood drained from my body, leaving me limp.
My skin prickled. I looked up, glancing around, but it was just me and the tall walls of green. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching. My eyes slid to the gargoyles again, but then I shook my head. It was only stone. I sank into the bench, my fingers trembling as I flipped to the next page.
On the centre of the yellowed page was a drawing of a long, purple flower, framed with my mum’s looping script.
