But she does not rouse. What have I done?
“Alyce?”
I freeze. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the glimmer of an emerald braid.
Laurel.
“What are you doing here?” My panic ebbs, swallowed by surprise.
She stands in the doorway to Aurora’s bathing chamber, a bottle of some peach-colored liquid in hand. Her gaze travels to Aurora, then back to me. “I came with the Fae lord to deliver the princess. They don’t want the servants to know what’s happened, and so they left me to watch over her until…”
“You helped him with this?”
“You mean did I help save Briar’s only heir from a Vila curse? Yes, I did.”
I bristle. “I wouldn’t hurt her—you know that.”
“I know that you promised you had this situation under control.” She sets the bottle down on a side table. “Clearly, you didn’t.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. It wasn’t my fault.”
“It never is, is it?” The tone of her voice feels like a slap. I crumple a fistful of blanket. “You craft curses, but the effects aren’t your responsibility. You come up with some half-baked plan to depose the Briar King, and it’s our future queen who winds up nearly dead.”
“That was an accident! I would never—”
“I know you wouldn’t,” Laurel interrupts. Her expression softens. “But I also know this situation was entirely out of our depth.”
“What does that mean? You regret allying with us?”
“We had no chance of winning. I knew that from the start. I should have gone to Endlewild right away and—”
“Endlewild?” Something slithers between my ribs. She’s never used his name like that before, without the honorific. And she wouldn’t. As full-blooded Fae, he ranks far above the Graces.
“Yes. I told you we’ve been speaking of late.”
But I can tell from the way she picks at the end of her braid that it’s been longer than that. “When was the first time?”
“After I Bloomed.” She straightens her sleeves. “And then at parties.”
“Liar.” The black silk of my magic ripples. “Tell me the truth.”
Fear simmers stark ocher in her gaze. Good.
“I did meet him after I Bloomed.” Her fingers knot and unknot. I’ve never seen her so restless. “Alyce, you have to understand that—”
“Just tell me.”
She paces. Halts. “On the night of my Blooming Ceremony, Endlewild asked me to report on your actions. I was placed in Lavender House specifically to watch you.”
For a moment, there is only the sound of the bells pealing outside. The soft ticking of the clock on the dressing table.
“And you agreed? You…spied on me?”
“I was afraid of you,” she rushes on. “Everyone was. In the nursery, you were the subject of nightmares and horror stories. And then I was placed in your house? I was terrified, Alyce.”
Unwelcome tears graze the back of my throat. “All those years—you were telling him everything about me.”
Bits of memory, like shards of glass, begin to fly together. My missing gold. The king’s servants sneaking into my Lair without leaving a trace. Laurel appearing in my Lair in the dead of night—she never did tell me what she was doing “visiting” me. Now I know. She didn’t think I was alone. She thought the Lair was empty. She’d been breaking in. Poking her nose in my affairs. She’s the one who stole my gold. Who told the Briar King what I was planning to do. This is why Endlewild stopped coming to check on me after I started working for Lavender House. He didn’t need to. Laurel did it for him.
“It wasn’t easy,” she says. “Not after I got to know you. You’re not a monster. And I meant what I said before. You and Lord Endlewild would be so much stronger together.”
“Get out.” I can hardly breathe around my rage. Around the magic that swells and hums inside me, desperate for an outlet. “Leave us.”
“Alyce.” She edges toward the bed. “You can’t think this is going to end in your favor. The curse is different this time.”
On instinct, I move closer to Aurora, blocking the path to her body. “Why?”
She presses her lips together, as if debating whether to answer, but then goes on. “Because when the princess wakes, she will not remember you. Not as you are.”
I glance at Aurora. The smoothness of her forehead. The untroubled lines of her mouth. “What does that mean?”