“He threw fits. I threw parties, making sure any visiting dignitaries thought the food and drink were more memorable than the most recent tantrum of a fickle king.”
“So, why does Holly seem to idolize him? No offense, but he seems awful,” I say, not caring how plainly I’m speaking. King or no king, he doesn’t deserve respect, especially after what he didto Moth.
“Awful people can have such wonderful moments, but Holly did not know her father, not really,” she says. “She was so very young and blissfully unaware of his outbursts. Without the expectation to rule, he favored her with dresses, dolls, and daggers—even before she was old enough to wield them. I dare say the sickness that befell him softened his temper in later years. I know she has been … disappointed in my ruling since Atlas disappeared. She thinks Eclipsica needs a firm hand. She does not know the power of a well-timed smile and a warm cup of tea. But you do, don’t you?”
I nod, the air suddenly thick with pollen and secrets. I understand more than I’dlike to.
My whole brand was built on unending positivity. Never let the haters win, never let them see you sweat, and disarm them with kindness. It worked fine for 22 years until I yeeted myself off the internet. But there’s one other thing that doesn’t make sense. If the Moth Court prides themselves on their healing powers, how did Moth’s father get sick in the first place?
“You said fae don’t suffer from the same sort of illnesses humans do, right?”
“No, I can’t say they do.” She shifts under my gaze, the soft smile never leaving her face, even for a moment. “My husband’s case was unique…” Queen Plume moves through the greenhouse, away from her attendant’s listening ears. I follow her, watching her elegant fingers pluck a pair of gleaming garden shears from a nearby potting table.
“We should have a bouquet at the head table, shouldn’t we?” she asks, carefully trimming flowers and gathering them in her arms. A spare set of shears rests on the potting bench in the corner. I gather them in my hands, helping her select roses and baby’s breath for this impromptu bouquet. We work in silence, the memories she shared of the past settling inside my head.
Poor Queen Plume…
Her relationship seems like it was complicated at best. Could she really grow to love someone like that? I’m glad Moth doesn’t want this life. Obviously, I know he’s different. He’s as kind and gentle as he is fearsome. A life of well-timed smiles is not the kind I’m after—not anymore.
“It’s gross that he was such a dick about Moth not learning to heal while he couldn’t even heal himself of whatever sickness he had.” I think—no, say out loud. My lips clamp shut. I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or the growing brain fog, but I did not mean tosay that.
Instead of getting upset, Queen Plume lets out an unexpected laugh—before something unrecognizable plays across her face. All the warmth she radiates shifts to something coldand flat.
“The illness took years to claim him. It was a secret to most of the kingdom and a mystery to all in the castle.” She violently snipsa flower.
“The plants here are truly magnificent, don’t you think?” Her fingers trail across the petals. “There are all sorts of properties that come out in recipes and teas. I may not look it, but once, I was quite fond of putting afternoon tea together for the late king. It was my little ritual. My husband always appreciated the way I took the time to make something justfor him.”
“You, you—” I begin but can’t get the thought out. Moth’s mother has been nothing but warm, kind, and welcoming. There’s no way—absolutely no way—she’s amurderer.
Puzzle pieces click together, creating a full picture of the events in my mind. Queen Plume finding her terrified son in the caves and plotting her husband’s slow demise. I wonder how much pain King Death inflicted before she decided murder was the best course of action. My stomach twists at the grim reality that her life in this castle is not the fairy tale it has seemed.
“And you didthis for—”
“Until the king was no longerwith us.”
“No one thought it was odd that you’d take the time to … care for him like that?”
“And question my devotion to the king? No dear, of course not.”
“But you were so heartbroken. When we spokeyou said—”
“It is true I loved my husband.” She snips and the head of a red rose rolls to my feet. “But I love my children more.”
I swallow a shallow breath, steeling my nerves before Queen Plume turns to face me. As she rises to her full height armed with nothing more than a winning smile and a pair of garden shears, she’s suddenly the most terrifying person in Eclipsica.
“It is getting late,” she says, glancing up at the sun. “Would you be a dear and see that everything is going accordingto plan?”
“Totally, yes. I will do that now.” I rush back the way we came, the flowing skirt of my dress catching on thorns and leaves as I trip and stumble over the potted plants.
As if in a trance, I walk back to the bedroom. The mental checklist weighs heavily on my mind, but not as heavy as the information I just learned. Queen Plume killed Moth’s father, and I’m not even sure I’m upset at her for it after what he did. Honestly, I’m just totally and completelystunned.
Queen Plume killed her husband and confessed to it as casually as some gossip you’d overhear at a hair salon.
Sprout trots over to me, plopping his headon my lap.
I want—need—tolay down.
But I can’t move, can’t think. I melt into the chair by the window. Fading into the darkness, I rest my eyes for justa moment.
