Page 10 of A Treason of Thorns

I swallow back yet another biting retort, reminding myself thatI’m not here for my own advantage, I’m here for Burleigh. The king picks up his spoon as a footman sets a pudding in front of him. “Would you like to come to court, Violet? Be Esperanza’s companion, perhaps?”

The two of them share a scheming smile.

“No, thank you.” Though I’m trying to be civil, the words still sound tart. “I’d like to go back to Burleigh House.”

“No one’s going back to the House,” His Majesty says around a mouthful of pudding. “It’s completely unmanageable now—refused three new Caretakers. Fact is, the place was in disrepair when your father took it over, and without him, it appears to be dying. I’ve come home from Belgium expressly to put it down.”

The air suddenly feels hot and close, and there’s a ringing in my ears. “What do you mean,dying?”

For once, the king answers in absolute earnest, and there’s pity in his usually well-governed voice. “Burleigh’s failing, after spending so long without a proper Caretaker. It will have to be burned to the ground, like the Sixth House. You know as well as I do how dangerous the Great Houses can be if they fail without a proper channel for their magic, Violet. Yorkshire is a wasteland now because of the mistakes I made with Ripley Castle. I won’t risk that in the West Country. Better to destroy Burleigh, and its pent-up mortar, before it does terrible damage.”

Dex appears with an enormous tray of ices, which one of the footmen hurries to take. Once relieved of his burden, Dex lingers in the doorway, tilting his head at me as if asking a question. But no, I don’t need rescuing. My House, however, surely does.

A good Caretaker puts her House first—before her own life, and far, far before her pride.

I slip from my chair and kneel before His Majesty, not even bothering to hide the angry, despairing tears that fall from my eyes at the thought of Papa’s fate, of Wyn’s face disappearing from view as the House arrest began, of Burleigh House in flames.

Every courtier’s attention is riveted on us. Even the servants are watching.

“In seven years, I haven’t asked you for anything,” I say to the king. “I was content to live a small life and never trouble you, not as your goddaughter, not as a girl whose prospects you destroyed and whose heart you broke. So long as I knew my House was managing, nothing else seemed to matter. But I ambeggingyou now. Let me go back to Burleigh. Give me the summer with it, and if it is not in good health again by fall, then burn it down. But at least let me have a chance first. I was born for this, and you know it.”

The king gives me a narrow look. “What would you do for that chance?”

I swallow, and remember Burleigh House growing a garden of flowers in my bedroom, one winter when I lay ill with a fever wishing for spring to come. “Anything. I’d do anything you ask if you’ll give me the key and let me serve as Caretaker.”

Jed would be horrified if he could hear me. We crossed the country and hid away on the fens because he and Mira hoped to keep me from the king’s clutches. And here I am, bargaining my independence away.

His Majesty smiles languidly and my stomach drops.

I know that look. I’m eight years old again, sitting across from the king as he prepares to win yet another hand of écarté. He always did prefer games of strategy, and all I ever managed to beat him at was Slaps.

“I willnevergive a Sterling the Caretaker’s key or my trust again,” the king says. “I’m no fool, to make the same mistake twice. But I will let you go home, little Violet. That is all, though.”

I rock back on my heels. “But how will I help without the key? I can’t work House magic without it. What do you expect me to do,talkBurleigh out of its ailments?”

“That’s none of my concern.” His Majesty shrugs. “You’re a resourceful girl, and goodness knows Burleigh’s always taken an uncommon interest in you. Figure something out. And if you manage to restore the House to good health, I expect you to support the Caretaker I choose. More than that, I expect you to convinceBurleighto support my Caretaker.”

When I hesitate, the king leans forward, ready to consolidate his victory. “Either you agree to my terms, or I will do what must be done and torch the place before it makes a ruin of the West Country.”

I don’t like his terms, not one bit, but it will have to be enough for now, this chance to go home.

“I’ll need time alone with the House, to settle it,” I tell him, grasping for any scrap of advantage. “Veto power over your choice of Caretaker, too—I won’t have Burleigh saddled with some incompetent fool.”

The king laces his hands together behind his head, satisfaction written across his face. “Such a Sterling. I’m so glad you came to see me, little Violet. You may be just what Burleigh needs after all.”

“As you say,” I answer, and Esperanza’s eyes narrow. Because what Uncle Edgar doesn’t notice as he turns his attention back to his pudding is that when I look at him, I’m halfway to murder.

4

WHEN THE KING PLACED MY FATHER UNDER HOUSEarrest and I was ordered out of the only home I’d ever known, the one hope I had was Jed and Mira. I’d have been lost without them. They’d served my family as steward and housekeeper since before I was born, managing things through good times and bad, through crises large and small. And in the moment after my father’s sentencing, in spite of the trouble that had befallen me, they took my part, Mira hurrying into town to sell a few valuables and Jed doing the same with the best of the livestock, so we’d have something to start out on as we began our new life together.

Today is no different. When I wake the morning after my visit to the king, groggy and muddle-headed following a night of fitful sleep, the cottage is bare and clean. Two trunks and a jumble of satchels stand beside the doorway, holding all we own between the three of us. Mira’s few pictures have been taken down and tucked away. The broad-brimmed hat I’ve never worn is off its peg. The pile of wood shavings Jed always leaves under his chair has been swept up. Even Jed and Mira’s mezuzah is gone from the doorpost.The last seven years are reduced to memory already.

And I haven’t said a word about my plans to go home.

“He’s outside,” Mira volunteers before I even have to ask.

I step into the grey dawn air and find Jed sitting on the upturned dory, staring out across the marsh.