A Throne of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #2)(10)

Anyway, more info about the stuff I brought (my letters clearly aren’t so organized as yours—I didn’t have princely training). I do better when I can do at least eight one rough draft. I hope you will bare with me.

Some very dense people in my village have worked off the directions, so I have high hopes that the healers in the other villages can work it out. This is the safer nulling elixir. It won’t kill anyone. For the other, I would prefer to be present, since there are still so many unknowns. I’m not sure whether I can just travel to other villages? I know in the past people would die for trying, but in the past you couldn’t cross the magical boundary, either. It seems ridiculous that no one does if they can. Or maybe they just never come to our village, and no one from the other villages wants us? That certainly seems likely, given the frosty reception I received after I followed you the other morning.

My animal is not amused by whatever you did to the connection, by the way, which I didn’t realize was a thing. She has been a surly cunt ever since, and if I told her that, she’d thank me for the kind words. That’s how mad she is. It’s probably a good thing I can’t shift, or she would surely take over and do something crazy, like find you and fuck your brains out, or burn down the castle. It’s really hard to know with her. I think she’s crazy.



I took a moment to glance at his list of books, twenty in all, and only eight I recognized.



I’ve placed numbers beside the books that I know. It’s a riddle. Choose the one that you think I want you to read first, and read that one. Give me your favorite scene. I’ll then know if you chose the right book.

As the other note says, I’ve left some stuff for your very many wounds. I saw how much blood you lost. I’ve put something in the bag for that as well. Take care of yourself. You can’t let your duty kill you. I think that’s my animal’s job after the stunt you pulled. Stay healthy so she can claim a little vengeance, will you?



I sat with the pen in my hand, thinking about what else I could say. What else I might want to tell him, or get him to tell me. I didn’t want this to be the end of the conversation—I also didn’t want to use up all of our topics in one go.

With that in mind, I took a chance.



Since you are fulfilling all your duties, I find myself remiss (is that the right word? I’m second-guessing myself) in taking care of your mother’s garden. So, if you aren’t too busy, maybe wade through there and cut out all the plants that don’t belong. The vines, for a start. What the hell are they doing in there? The blackberry bushes are out of control. Those need to go. Weeds, obviously. You know, help out a little. Hadriel can assist you. He’ll hate it, but he needs something to do in my absence besides shame-fuck. He’ll thank me eventually.

Warmest regards,

Finley



The birch shook when I left, and I had a smile on my face all the way home.

The next day I went back in the afternoon, carrying more canisters. I knew it was probably too early to hope for a return note, but I figured I could add at least more canisters to the bag. A dragon could carry much more than I could. Besides, I wanted a few more crowded plant leaves so I could start experimenting. I’d also written out a bunch of questions about everlass for Nyfain.

At the birch, his smell caught me again, snapping my focus taut and sending a zip of fire through my body. It was recent and potent, deliciously curling through my senses and wetting my panties. My animal purred in delight, and I wondered just what had created the extra depth to his scent.



Dear Finley,

I enjoyed the sarcasm in your first sentence immensely. It really ruined made my night. I carried on reading with a scowl glow.



I spat out a laugh, settling back against the shaking birch to read.



First, and most importantly, your father’s convalescence is fantastic news! I am so proud of you. I wish we could go back in time, because you would’ve been crowned as the best plant worker in the kingdom, I have no doubt. You and my mother would have had so much to talk about.

Consequently, why do you call him “Father” and your mother “Mom”? I picked up on that at your cottage but drugged your family and skulked off into the night before I could ask (…is that joke too soon?).

I am sure you will heal your neighbor, but if you turn murderer, I have heard that blaming cats can be useful in getting out of it. Hadriel provided that anecdote. I’m not quite sure how it will help get you off the hook, and in truth, at the time he offered the information, he was hanging upside down by one ankle in a costume I am pretty sure was meant to mock me, whilst heavily intoxicated. Nevertheless, it bears looking into.

Since we are on the subject of spelling mistakes, when you hoped I would “bare with you,” it put a very different spin on the meaning. Soon thereafter, I read your favorite book on that list—the numbers I took to mean the number of times you had read them?



I giggled as I read, nodding. He’d figured it out.



Eighteen is quite a lot. After I read it, though, I think I understand. I’d love to see the physical book you have handled. I assume some pages have seen more wear than others, specifically the scene in which the couple is forced to escape the (rather tame) villain on horseback. I wondered why the author would have them outrun the villain so easily. And then we got the descriptions of his hands slowly gliding up her (milky) thighs and firmly palming her (luscious) breasts, and I began to understand.