I hand over the list. Hilde doesn’t flinch as her fingers brush mine.
“This isn’t your usual sort.”
“It’s not for me.” I don’t even try to keep the salt out of my tone. “Rose sent me.”
Hilde snorts. “I see. High and mighty Grace too busy to come here herself?”
“But never too busy for Madame LaRoche.”
“What a surprise.” Setting the parchment on her counter, Hilde begins filling the order. I let my attention drift. Dried plants hang in bundles from the eaves—sachets of periwinkle and yellowed bouquets of calla lilies and leathered strips of birch bark. Vials of every shape, size, and color crowd the shelves. Stuffed wildlife with glass eyes snarl down at me from high corners. Hilde’s pets, she calls them.
“I don’t see why you let them order you about.” The apothecary’s voice is muffled as she roots around in the back stores. “They aren’t any different than you are.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Why?” She reappears, half of Rose’s order stacked precariously in her arms. “Because your blood is green and theirs is gold?” She wrinkles her nose. “I’ve never liked gold much myself. Too gaudy.”
“I don’t think the rest of Briar agrees with you.” I begin helping her pile the items into a sack. “They started a war over it once.”
“The rest of Briar can take a dive off the Crimson Cliffs as far as I’m concerned.”
A strangled laugh escapes me.
“What? So they can. Obsessed with charm and beauty and whatever other fripperies those Graces can dish out. Mark my words, Alyce. When the Etherians created the Graces, they weren’t doing us a favor.”
I stifle a groan. Hilde and her conspiracies. She’s been breathing in too many of her potions. Graced children are the most coveted in the realm. Expecting mothers, especially those in the Common District, pray that the Etherians will visit and Grace their unborn babies.
“More of your stories, Hilde?” Callow pecks at a glass case filled with withered snake carcasses and I nudge her away.
“Don’t sass me, little miss.” Her honey-brown eyes narrow. “If you used your brain, you’d know I’m right. The entire realm has gone mad for Grace elixirs. Nobles rip one another to bits to get a particular shade of hair or a clever tongue. It’s a Fae trick, girl. They’re laughing at us from their courts. Same as when they set that challenge.”
Confusion rumples my brow. “You mean the challenge to win the Briar crown?”
“And do you know of any other challenge set by the Fae?”
“No.” I grab a handful of small vials and stuff them into my sack. “But I don’t see why you think it was some kind of trick.”
“When have the Fae done anything that didn’t suit their own interests? Mortals mean little enough to their kind. Why should we? We’re gone in a blink and they live nearly forever.” Hilde tosses another beetle at Callow, who snaps it out of the air and chitters with delight. “And now that poor princess reduced to a breeding mare—having to pop out heirs in order to keep the throne secure. Last heir, indeed. You see how much the Etherians care about her plight.”
There’s nothing poor about Briar’s royal family, but I keep that back. Even around Hilde. “Maybe. But I still think Leythana deserved to rule Briar. I read about her campaigns before she came here. Did you know that she overthrew the Cardon King because of the way he treated his people? That’s why the island isn’t a monarchy anymore. And her crew was mostly women—they all had a say in what missions they undertook. Things would be better in Briar these days if the queens had followed Leythana’s lead.”
Hilde places a hand on her chest. “I had no idea I had such a devout follower in my shop.”
Something burns in my chest, and I try to smooth it away with a shrug. “I know my history is all.”
“Indeed.” Hilde taps her sorrel-stained fingertip on the lid of a jar. “I imagine you know far more than I do. But I ask you this, Alyce: Was it a victory Leythana won, when they put the Briar crown on her head? Or a curse?”
Curse. The word slithers between my ribs. And a scar just to the right of my navel twinges. I clench my fist to keep from touching it.
“I’m the only one cursed around here.”
“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.” She opens the jar and frowns. “Damn. I’m out of robin’s eggs. Your precious Grace will have to do without.”