Chapter 83

Ruby

Nancy’s eyes widen as I tell her my theory.

“You really think she has something to do with it?” she says. “But she’s so nice!”

“I know,” I answer, glancing over my shoulder at the herbalist’s shop. “Lately, I’m learning that the nicest people can sometimes be the ones we should worry about.”

Nancy sticks her hands in her pocket and chews her lip. “So what should we do?” she asks. “It’s not like she’s gonna give us any information, and she already kicked us out.”

“There has to be a back entrance to her shop,” I reply thoughtfully, twisting a strand of my long, white hair around my finger.. It’s officially grown to its original length before I cut it, thanks to the hormones that have been coursing through my body since my wolf emerged. I’d forgotten how much I missed my long hair.

Suddenly, my stomach starts to growl, making me realize just how hungry I am.

“Let’s get something to eat first,” I say, grabbing Nancy’s hand and pulling her toward the cafe. “I can’t eat anything at the castle in case it’s been poisoned, so I’m starving.”

When we arrive at the cafe, we sit down at a booth in the window. While we wait for our food to come -- Nancy ordered French toast and I ordered chocolate chip pancakes -- we sip our coffee and quietly discuss our plans.

“I’ve seen other shop owners use back entrances to their shops,” Nancy says. “There are alleys behind every street.”

“So if we can find a back entrance to the herbalist’s shop, maybe we can find some more information on toxic ashroot.”

Nancy and I pause as our food arrives, not wanting our conversation to be overheard by the waiter. My pancakes are steamy and soft, and the chocolate melts in my mouth when I take a bite. I want to savor it since I might not be able to eat at the castle until I get to the bottom of who poisoned Vivian.

“Who do you think did it?” Nancy asks, swallowing a bite of her French toast and taking a sip of coffee. “Poisoned Vivian, I mean.”

I look around inconspicuously before answering. “I’m not entirely sure. My first guess would be the Queen, but I’m not sure what her motives might have been since everyone seemed to love Vivian. And Alice doesn’t do anything without the Queen’s orders, so if she did it, then they would have been involved together.”

“You don’t think…” Nancy says, her green eyes widening.

I know who she’s going to suggest: Atwood. “I don’t know,” I reply quietly, looking down at my plate as tears well up in my eyes. I blink them back before continuing. “It’s possible. I don’t want to believe it, but… I don’t think that I should trust him one hundred percent right now.”

Nancy reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “It’s alright,” she whispers. “We’ll figure it out. Today.”

Once we’ve finished our breakfast, Nancy and I muster up our courage and make our way back to the herbalist’s shop. We pass by the front window first to see that the herbalist is busy with a customer, which gives us our chance.

“Follow me,” Nancy says quietly, walking to the end of the row of connected shops and then looking around quickly before sidestepping into a narrow alleyway. I follow suit and shuffle through the alley after her until we come out on the other side, behind the row of buildings.

Nancy was right; the shops do all have back entrances. The ground is wet and muddy from the melted snow as we make our way toward the herbalist’s shop.

The door that leads to the herbalist’s shop is locked, but I’ve come prepared. Ushering Nancy out of the way, I crouch down in front of the door and pull two bobby pins out of my hair, then get to work. Nancy looks at me with a surprised expression on her face when I stand a few moments later and turn the knob, swinging the door open.

“How did you do that?” she mouths, to which I simply shrug and grin before stepping into the dark building.

We enter onto the landing of a narrow stairwell. One side leads upwards, toward the shop where we can hear the sound of voices, while the other leads down.

Motioning with my head for Nancy to follow, I quietly and carefully begin to make my way down the stairs, wincing with each creak of the wood under my boots. Finally, we make it down the stairs, where there is another door -- this one is unlocked, thankfully.

Nancy and I look at each other and nod before opening the door.

Just as I suspected, there is a whole basement full of plants. Most of them seem fairly innocuous -- some of them I even recognize as being common household plants, organized neatly into their appropriate hydroponics stations with bright lights positioned over them. On the far wall, there is a long wooden table that’s littered with soil, empty pots, and gardening tools.

At a first glance, anyone would look at this basement and think that it’s nothing more than an herbalist’s workshop; but I know better, because there are track marks on the floor in front of the table.

I point silently to the marks. Nancy looks at me, confused, until I explain.

“The table has been pulled out,” I whisper as I approach it. “And it’s been moved a lot.”

I grab one end of the table and gesture for Nancy to grab the other. Then, we lift it and move it away from the wall. It’s lighter than it looks, however, which causes us to pick it up too quickly. One of the clay pots teeters off of the table and falls to the floor before either of us can catch it, shattering loudly.

Nancy and I both stare at each other with wide eyes, but it doesn’t seem that anyone heard the pot break when we realize that the voices in the shop above haven’t stopped or changed their tone. My forehead is sweating with a combination of the damp from the humid room and my nerves.

While Nancy keeps watch, I shimmy behind the table as carefully as I can so as to not make any more noise and begin running my hands along the wall.

Just as I thought, there is a seam in the dingy wallpaper. Glancing over my shoulder one last time to nod to Nancy, I push on the wall. It opens.

The room behind the wall is illuminated only by red lights. It smells strange in here, like a sickly combination of burnt toast and stagnant pond water. Covering my nose and mouth with my shirt, I step into the room to get a better look, straining my eyes against the red light.

Pots with plants inside that look exactly like the plants in the book line the walls. The long, thin stalks, the small flowers… they look black under the light, but I know that they’re red in actuality. This is toxic ashroot -- and tons of it.

Shakily, I pull out my phone and snap a picture with the hope that I’ll be able to use it as evidence against the Queen, Alice, or even… Atwood.

When I turn around to go back to Nancy, however, she stares at me with wide eyes and a frightened expression on her face. Standing behind her, holding her shirt collar, is the herbalist.