The Poison Diaries: Nightshade by Maryrose Wood Page A

figures below. It is no swaying meadow of eelgrass waiting for me there, but the plants of my father’s apothecary garden.
    Moonseed. Larkspur. Dumbcane. Snakeweed.
    â€œWhy are you here?” I wonder aloud, confused. “Youdo not grow under water.”
    They bend and twist as if consumed by mocking laughter. Then, to my amazement, they speak.
    â€œWelcome, lovely Jessamine.”
    â€œWelcome home –”
    I wake from the dream with a gasp.
    What sound was it that woke me? I listen, frozen. A quiet click as the door opens. A footstep in the dark.
    Someone stands, breathing, quite close, inside my room.
    â€œDon’t be afraid. It’s me. Rye.”
    â€œBut – the door –”
    He lights the stub of a candle and holds it near his face. I see him now, half smiling in the flickering light.
    â€œI’m not what you’d call a law-abiding citizen, I’m afraid. Locked doors don’t tend slow me down.”
    I struggle to rise, to claw my way up from the depths of the dream, but there are weights pressing on my limbs, I feel buried alive –
    â€œStay under the quilt. You don’t want to catch a chill. Not after today.” He kneels at my bedside. “Icame to say I’m sorry for what I did. At the river.”
    â€œYou saved my life. I know that.”
    â€œI may have, yes. Still. I don’t want you to hate me.”
    â€œFor saving my life? Perhaps I should.”
    â€œDon’t talk madness, Rowan.” He stops. “Ought I still call you Rowan?”
    â€œIt is the name I choose.”
    â€œRowan it’ll be, then. Until we christen you with something better.” He pauses again. “You left me full of questions. I spent the day looking for answers.”
    â€œDid you find any?”
    â€œPerhaps. I heard quite a bit of gossip while I was out. That’s the other reason I’ve come.”
    Something in his tone frightens me. “What gossip?”
    â€œAbout that murder near Alnwick.” He leans close, and his voice drops so low it seems to come from inside my head. “It seems the cottage belonged to no ordinary herbalist, but a well-known apothecary, a favourite of the Duke’s. A man with powerful,dangerous friends. A man who could heal with plants, and do great mischief with them, too. His daughter, they say, was equally skilled.”
    I am fully awake now.
    He puts the candle down on the nightstand. “I even found out the girl’s name. A fair-haired beauty, she was, named for a yellow flower –”
    I raise myself up. “What do you want from me?”
    He lets out a low, soothing whistle, as if calling a wayward horse. “I want nothing, lass, except what you might freely choose to give me.”
    I shiver uncontrollably now, with fear and a bone-deep cold. Without hesitation or permission, Rye eases himself into the narrow bed and wraps his arms around me. Instinctively my body curves into his warmth, like a sunflower reaching toward the sun.
    â€œThe sight of you on that riverbank is not something I’ll soon forget,” he murmurs into my hair. “Like a siren, you rose from the waters, calling me to the rocks. I’ve caught you like a fever, Rowan.”
    â€œI could cure you of it, quick.”
    â€œI doubt that.” His lips graze my ear. “Tell me the truth – no, don’t flinch, I know better than to ask what you don’t want to tell. What I want to know is this: Did you like it when I kissed you last night? No more lies, now.”
    â€œYes,” I whisper, ashamed. “I did.”
    â€œThat’s a start, then. Listen carefully. I’ve a proposition for you. Don’t say a word until I’m done.”
    I stiffen in his arms, but it only makes him hold me closer.
    â€œCome with me,” he says. “I’ve been on the road my whole life, a tinker and a smuggler, always on the run. With you I’d have a reason to stop