Page 60 of Her Cruel Dahlias

“As you wish, child.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cricket left Mistress Eliza to her cards and found Zephyr outside a nearby tent sharpening his blade.

“Did you follow me over here?” she asked, sinking down beside him.

“Possibly,” he drawled.

She rolled her eyes. “At least you didn’t barge in.”

“A thank you gift will be sufficient.” He chuckled, then sobered. “How did it go?”

Cricket recounted the conversation between her and Mistress Eliza, how the necromancer wanted her to travel with the carnival. And that Cricket decided she would return to them after helping the authorities in any way she could.

“I’ll stay here with you until you leave,” Zephyr said.

She shook her head, placing her hand on his arm. “Don’t. You and the carnival have lost so much, and I know performing is an escape for you. You need it. I promise I’ll come to you.”

“That’s a promise you’ll have to keep then.” He winked. “After I take you to Anika’s, I’ll leave for my aunt’s. I won’t be back until late into the night, but can I take you on a picnic in the morning? I still owe you one.”

“I would love that. And I still owe you a favor.”

“Oh, it will come soon enough.” He smirked.

She went with Zephyr to collect his pack for the short journey to Sorel before taking a horse back to the manor together. He helped her down from the mare, and he didn’t hesitate to pull her close, his arms folded around her. With those shapely lips of his, he kissed her, worshiped her mouth as he backed her into one of the pillars.

He slipped his tongue between her lips, and the kiss deepened. She never would’ve stopped kissing him if it wasn’t for a meek voice gasping, “Oh my,” behind them.

Heat flooded her neck and cheeks as she stepped away from Zephyr to find one of the servants, Nettie, carrying a basket of lavender. Zephyr didn’t appear embarrassed in the slightest. Instead, his hooded eyes peered at Cricket as if he wanted to devour her again.

“See you tomorrow morning, lovely Cricket,” he purred, capturing her lips once more.

Somehow, she forced herself to peel away from him, and as soon as she brought her hand up to knock on the door, it flew open to Anika, the widest of smiles lighting up her face. “Now that is what I call a kiss.”

Breeta sat in the chair, appearing flushed herself as she stitched at a rapid pace. “Perhaps it’s best you not do that again in front of a window for all to see.”

Cricket fought a smile as Anika motioned her inside, then she took a seat across from Breeta. A servant brought them sandwiches and tea, and they spent a long while chatting. Cricket shared every detail of the carnival’s inner workings with them until the sound of a horse’s hooves filled the afternoon air, and Bram returned. He shoved the front door open, his normally calm gaze wild. When his eyes met hers, he sighed. “Cricket, you’re all right. I didn’t know if you would be back yet.”

“I’m fine. What is it?” she asked, exchanging a worried glance with Anika.

“I need to talk to the two of you.” His gaze drifted to Breeta. “Alone.”

Breeta didn’t argue as she gathered her things and hurried out of the room.

Bram took off his hat and raked a hand through his disheveled hair. “Miles has been working on something in secret. It’s about the dahlias. He kept the ones Charles had with him and then the others after that instead of disposing of them.”

“Is he the one doing this?” Anika hissed.

“No, he suspected that the dahlias found in Charles’s satchel had belonged to one of the more recent victims, and he wanted to find out if his theory was correct. I wish he had told me, but after the incident with Charles, he wanted to ensure he could do this without someone turning on him.”

“What did he find out?” Anika asked.

Cricket bit her lip, wondering if it had led them to where the flowers were either grown or being sold.

“I don’t believe the dahlias were purchased from anywhere. These flowers aren’t withering as they should. They remain in full bloom as if under a spell of some sort,” Bram said, taking two from his satchel.

Cricket flinched, praying these flowers weren’t the ones that had been on Juniper. But she had to touch one for herself. She ran her fingers across its petals, which were soft to the touch, perhaps even familiar. The hair on her arms rose like needles at the strange feeling.