She hadn’t realized until that crepuscular conversation with Moriah at the edge of the garden and the blurred boundary of reality how alone she’d felt, how not fully fleshed. Barely a caterpillar, eating her way through foliage with nothing to become. Only a dread cocoon to curl up in and slowly, inevitably desiccate. Dreamless sleep becoming death.
You have far more power than you know. Learn to use it again.
Dreams. It all revolved around her not dreaming. Jada would put her to sleep—she couldn’t prevent that—but perhaps if she could dream then…
Thenwhat?
She didn’t know and the not knowing tantalized and frustrated her. It seemed this power she needed hovered just beyond the reach of her grasping fingers. And the one person she could ask was the one person she didn’t dare alert with the question. Thorn knew without knowing that any mention of dreams and dreaming would bring punishment.
The possibility of unlocking all the mysteries that plagued her lay beyond that library door. Ever since her escape attempt, Thorn was only allowed in when Jada was inside and didn’t care to stir herself, as in the evenings when Thorn brought her a glassof cognac and a plate of the melting meringue cookies she’d learned to make from the new recipe book with the whites of eggs from the faithful chickens.
That single nightly visit to the library had to be her key. She would open access to the books with it. That meant Thorn needed something to make Jada very sleepy. Sleepier than the cognac alone. And she had to try now, before she lost her nerve. Her resolve solidified when Thorn returned to the warmth of the cottage to find Jada had retired to the library. It was a sign.
Perusing the herb cabinet, she touched each with her psychometric sorcery, asking for its nature and gathering the ones that promoted sleepiness. From each, she gleaned where they’d grown—right there in the cottage garden for most of them, though some came from the faraway cities—when they’d been harvested, how they’d been dried and stored. With their homegrown herbs, she saw images of Jada and herself processing and storing them away. Layered beneath that came the inherent knowledge of their nature.
She didn’t allow herself to be distracted by the kaleidoscope of images from the herbs that came from far away, some from exotic locations that she could barely imagine from the brief glimpses of searing deserts or endless waters. But how galling was it that a dried herb had led a more interesting life than she had? These had been handled by many people, from the initial gardeners feeling mostly calm and affection for the little plants, all the way through chains of traders with varying motivations, all of them fascinating.
Reminding herself not to follow the alluring thread of the colorful experiences of the herbs, she concentrated on the task at hand: a potion to give to Jada to make her sleep while Thorn found what she needed in the library. Her life could begin after that.
Individually, the herbs couldn’t induce the depth of unconsciousness Thorn required. Determining how to combine themfor maximum effect without killing Jada presented a challenge. Thorn’s psychometry couldn’t inform her on that front. The herbs simply didn’t know. There could be books in the library with recipes, but that simply brought her full circle to the core problem.
How cavalier she’d been when she’d had more or less unfettered access to all that knowledge, except for the warded shelves. How frivolous of her younger self to take that so for granted that she’d scorned to learn more. What she wouldn’t give to go back and change the past. But no magic allowed that to happen, so she needed to focus on the current problem: How should she combine these herbs to make Jada sleep like the dead but notbethe actual dead? No magical answer for a formula popped into her head, however. She’d have to guess.
Erring on the side of less potent, she mixed the least bitter herbs, then ground them into a powder. She couldn’t afford for Jada to become suspicious. Casting about for something to blend them into—they wouldn’t dissolve in the cognac, just settle into a green mud at the bottom of the glass—Thorn hit upon a bit of soft goat cheese. She mixed in the herbs and even dusted some on top, making a pretty presentation of it. Toasting a few triangles of fresh bread from the loaf she’d made for morning, she added those to the plate. She arranged the tray prettily with the plate, cognac, and a few meringue cookies. Her heart quailed with fear, but she touched the prince’s jewel in her pocket, calmed by his sunny presence. “You’ll never find him if you don’t at least try,” she whispered to herself. “Have courage.”
She carried the tray into the library, where Jada sprawled in her favorite reading chair by the fire.
“Since dinner was light, I thought you might like a snack,” Thorn said cheerfully, hoping her voice didn’t wobble, arranging the offerings on the little table beside the chair.
Jada looked surprised. “Goat cheese?”
“With herbs,” Thorn supplied, then added as inspirationstruck, “It’s a new recipe from the cookbook you brought me. Apparently many nobles enjoy the dish with dessert to encourage healthful sleep.”
That pleased Jada and Thorn watched, trying very hard not to look too invested, or too afraid, as Jada used a pretty, dull knife to spread the cheese on the toast points. Chewing thoughtfully, she considered. “I don’t love the herb combination. A bit bland.”
“Perhaps followed by a sip of cognac?” Thorn suggested. “They’re supposed to be sublime in combination.” She resisted the urge to cross her fingers as Jada tried it. Her lies could only go so far.
Fortunately, Jada loved to think of herself as having a sophisticated palate, so she nodded. “Much better. Subtle, yet intriguing. Most elegant.”
“Thank you, for the cookbook and new supplies. It’s so fun to try new things.”
“Yes, yes. Well go on with you. You know you’re not allowed in here anymore. I’ll ring if I need you.” Indeed, Jada had brought back a little silver bell for exactly this purpose.
Thorn returned to the kitchen. Only when she reached her quiet oasis did she experience the reaction to what she’d done. Shaking uncontrollably, she pressed a hand to her queasy stomach, willing it to calm, for her dinner to stay put. A gut-deep, childlike part of her wailed in terror, and her gaze fastened unwillingly on the root cellar door. It would be so cold in there. A rime of ice sometimes whitened the damp walls in midwinter like this. If Jada made her sleep in there…
“Stop it,” she whispered to herself. “What would Moriah think about your spinelessness?”
Making herself move, the habitual motions familiar enough that she didn’t have to think about it, she cleaned up her mess. It had been terribly careless of her to leave everything out like that, even if Jada rarely left the library once ensconced and certainly not to venture into the kitchen when there was cleaning up tobe done. Making herself delay the normal amount of time, she finished her preparations for morning breaking fast also. Only then did she return to the library to say good night, as she always did.
On the short walk to the far side of the cottage, she debated with herself on what she’d do if Jada had indeed fallen fast asleep. Rouse her to go to bed and return to the library? Leave it to another night to lull Jada into complacency and trust that she’d eat the goat cheese snack again? Knotting her fingers together, Thorn fretted over the correct answer.There can be many answers to the same question, all of them correct,Moriah’s voice reminded her. Trusting in that, she stepped into the library.
Jada was gone.
Attempting to restrain her panic, Thorn cast about wildly, searching for her guardian, even looking under tables and chairs, in case Jada had gotten so sleepy she’d crawled under something, like a wounded animal seeking its den. What if Thorn, in her amateurish bumbling, had somehow killed Jada? Then she’d be trapped here forever with no one knowing she’d ever existed. Except for Moriah. And the cat, with all her “I’ve already talked more in these few minutes than I have in a hundred years,” probably wouldn’t tell anyone about her.
Thorn made herself take a deep breath, touching the surface of the gem in her pocket and comforting herself with a quiet moment of the prince’s, riding through the shadowy forest. Once again able to think, she realized Jada couldn’t begonegone. Even if Thorn had accidentally murdered her guardian, the corpse wouldn’t just vanish, would it? Dead animals left bodies behind. And many of the treasures she’d touched had been removed from corpses, the final contact with that person fizzling out with their death. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Jada must have simply moved to somewhere else. Thorn only needed to methodically search.
After thoroughly checking the entire library, however, heranxiety escalating by the moment, despite her best efforts, Thorn hadn’t found Jada. She was about to go search the rest of the cottage when a strange magic tingled against her senses.
