Page 27 of A Treason of Thorns

“You’re a devious little witch,” the king says affectionately, patting my head as if I’m a faithful hound. “I always did like that about you. We’re far more similar than you think, Vi.”

Like hell we are. “Oh, I think so, too, Uncle. We do tend to land on our feet.”

“As you say.” He gestures to the guardsmen and they start off down the lane, moving away from Burleigh Halt and toward Taunton.

“You know where to find me if you need me,” His Majesty calls back over one shoulder. “Oh, and I’m sending someone into town, to look out for you and the House. Just in case Burleigh should unfortunately need to be—dispatched—at short notice.”

So we’re to have an executioner in residence while I plan my treason. Wonderful. What could possibly go wrong?

Rather than complain or answer back, I stand in the lane and wave, a dutiful girl farewelling her beloved godfather. It’s only once the king’s party has rounded the bend in the road and disappeared from view that I step back and lean against the House’s wall for support.

“I hate him,” I whisper to the sun-warmed stone. “I want you out from under his thumb, and for neither of us ever to have to answer to him again.”

Mortar oozes from the wall in reply, like blood from a wound that won’t heal.

10

I FIND MIRA IN THE KITCHEN, BUT THERE’S NO SIGN OFWyn.

“Are you married, then?” Mira says, looking up from the basin full of laundering she’s at work on.

“No,” I tell her. “Not yet, at least.”

“Good,” she says with an approving nod. “Wyn told me what was going on. My first thought was to run out with the rolling pin and beat the priest over the head with it, if need be. But then I remembered you’re nearly grown and set on being a Caretaker, so you need to fight your own battles.”

I rest my chin on my hand and let out a sigh. “Everyone’s far more confident in my capabilities than I am.”

Mira smiles wickedly. “If things hadn’t gone your way, I had every intention of making that lord’s life utterly miserable while he was under this roof. Burleigh and Jed and Wyn all would’ve helped. The king’s man would have been begging for an annulment after a fortnight. And there was always the rolling pin, if he tried to lay a finger on you.”

I look at her, bent over the washbasin, her hair all gone iron-grey, arms red to the elbows from the sting of harsh soap. I love her. Blood and mortar, I love her and Jed so much it hurts sometimes.

“I’m sorry I was cross about the deed,” I tell Mira. “I don’t deserve you or Jed, truly I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes. “No family agrees about everything; why should we be any different? But Violet,tryto be safe, won’t you?”

“I’ll do my very best,” I promise, getting up and brushing a kiss to her cheek. “Wyn hasn’t left yet, has he?”

“No, he said he was going to do some plastering in the dining room. He was... anxious... while you were out there with the king.”

“Anxious that I’d come back within an hour, maybe, and that he’d have to speak to me again,” I grumble. But I leave the kitchen and walk down the dimly lit, musty corridor that leads to the dining room. I’m still trying to learn Burleigh’s new face, but it seems to me as if several more cracks have sprouted in the walls since I last came this way. Surely I would have noticed those gaping fissures, and the way they spill mortar and black-thorned brambles out over the wallpaper.

It feels like a chance at redemption, finding Wyn in the dining room yet again, this time plastering over gaping holes in the walls rather than nailing up a broken window.

“Still here, are you?” I say from the door. “I hope you’ve finished being angry at me. I haven’t done anything, Wyn. I know other people have done things to you, but I haven’t. And I want to help—not just the House, you too.”

At the sound of my voice, Wyn sets his palette down and turns, visibly collecting himself.

“I’m not angry,” he says. “Hello, Violet. I missed you. Welcome home.”

I want to be petty. To hold on to how standoffish and harsh he’s been, but I don’t have it in me. It feels like everything was upside down, and now it’s gone right-side up again. I’m not sure which I needed more, either—theI missed you, or thewelcome home.

“Do you have another palette?” I ask.

“On the drop cloth,” he says. I pick it up, and for a quite a while we work together in silence, mending some of Burleigh’s hurts. It may not be House magic, but as we go, a bit of the tension singing through the floor beneath my feet fades.

Oh, Burleigh, all you want is to be looked after.

I gather my courage as we reach the last damaged section of wall, and steal a glance at Wyn. He’s got his serious face on, a slight frown pulling his brows together as he smooths plaster across a seam.