Chapter Twenty-Two

When Mr. Benny arrives at the Honey Witch house that evening, he finds two eager passengers waiting for him at the dock, and one slightly less eager passenger behind them.

"Is there room for two more?"

"Always room for friends," Mr. Benny says with his soft and crooked smile.

Marigold feels much more anxiety than she cares to admit. Innisfree is her true home now, and she hates to leave it when the spirit guardians are going through such a strange metamorphosis, but she has no choice. It has been more than a year since she saw her family last. She has already missed too much. She promised Aster and Frankie that she would come, that she would be there for them, that they would still have their sister.

She cannot break that promise—now—or ever.

Beyond that, it is time to see her mother again. To speak, to share, and hopefully, to reconcile.

The small boat drifts through the night without a word from anyone. The sky above them is a clear, velvety blue that looks soft enough to touch. There is tension radiating off them, and poor Mr. Benny seemingly has no idea how to react. He is a particularly chatty person and clearly struggles to sit in silence for too long.

He clears his throat. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"

"Indeed!" August says, eager to have someone who hates the quiet as much as he does. "It has been a lovely summer, hasn't it, ladies?"

Lottie does not respond, and neither does Marigold.

Has it been lovely? No, largely, this has been a cruel summer. She has missed her sister's proposal, the landv?ttir are inexplicably ill, and now she has developed feelings for a girl who defies everything that her world is supposed to be.

Overall, the magic is worth it. This life is worth it—but she would not be herself if she did not allow for time to pout. Who made this rule that people cannot have everything that they want, all at once? She would love nothing more than to write them a strongly worded letter detailing her displeasure.

"Are you looking forward to your sister's wedding, Miss Marigold?" Mr. Benny asks.

"Yes. Though I must admit, I am exceptionally relieved to not be going back to Bardshire alone." When she turns, she finds Lottie's gaze there waiting for her.

"We couldn't let you do that, Mari," August says as he reaches across the bench and places his hand on top of her knee. She stiffens at the mention of her old familial nickname. She has not heard it since she left home, and it makes her heart burn. She tries to hide it quickly, not wanting to make her friends more uncomfortable than they probably already are in a too-small boat on a journey to somewhere that they've never been, and likely would never have had any reason to go otherwise. Unfortunately, Lottie is particularly perceptive.

"I don't think she likes that nickname, August," Lottie whispers.

"It's not that." She sighs. "That's what my family calls me. I used to hate it, but now that I haven't heard it in a while, I just realized how much I miss it."

"Well then, we shall call you that more, Mari," August replies as he relaxes back into the bench.

"Mari is really pretty," Lottie says.

"So is Lottie." She smiles. There is a sweet pause in the boat before August finds the wherewithal to destroy it.

He nudges Marigold and gives her a devious smirk. "Are we still only talking about nicknames, you two?"

"Of course," she says, straightening her spine.

"Well, I want one, too. What about Auggie? Auggie, Lottie, and Mari," August says.

"Perfect," Marigold says.

Once they reach the coast, they leave the little boat and pile into Mr. Benny's carriage. As they transfer their belongings, Lottie starts frantically digging through her bag. Her breathing heavies and her hands begin to shake as she continues searching for something that is not there.

"Lots?" August says.

She puts her hands on the top of her head and tries to calm her breathing. "I forgot my book."

August immediately starts searching through her bag while Lottie paces around the carriage. "There's no way," he says. His entire arm is swallowed by the bag. "It has to be in here."

"It's not!" Lottie yells.

"I'm still looking," he assures her, but the hope is leaving his voice.

Marigold walks over to Lottie and follows her as she paces. "What book?"

"It's silly," she says, though she can barely get the words to come through her panic. "It's a small book of nursery rhymes, but it's the only thing I have from my real parents. I never go anywhere without it."

"I am sure we will find it," Marigold says as she reflexively takes Lottie's hand to comfort her. To her surprise, Lottie does not pull her hand away.

August approaches slowly with his head hanging. "I'm sorry, Lots. It's not here. You must have left it back at Marigold's."

Lottie tightens her grip around Marigold's fingers as if she will never let them go. "How could I have done that? How could I have been so foolish?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Your mind has seemed a bit"—he stares at Lottie's hand that is still wrapped around Marigold's fingers—"preoccupied lately."

She finally drops Marigold's hand. "Be serious, August."

"I am," he says. "You've been distracted."

"August," she snaps. "Stop. Talking."

He nearly speaks, but he stops himself when he catches Marigold's gaze.

She turns to Lottie and says, "Do you want to go back to get it?"

Lottie chews her lip and thinks for a moment, but she says, "No. Let's keep going."

"Are you sure?" August says.

Lottie nods. "I'll be okay. I don't need a silly book to keep me safe."

"That's right," August says as he pulls her into an embrace. "You have me." He opens one arm and invites Marigold into the hug. "And you have Mari."

She approaches slowly before weaving her arms around her friends. "You do have me," she says into Lottie's neck. The three of them separate and regather their belongings. Once they are all safely seated, Mr. Benny drives them farther into the night.

The carriage ride to the port is shorter than Marigold remembers. They arrive as the sun creeps into the sea, and their ship comes into view when they get close to the dock. It is the same one that carried her from Bardshire when she left. It's all the same, just as she last saw it. They say their thanks and goodbyes to Mr. Benny as he starts his return. Everything feels more real when his carriage is out of sight. Before, she could pretend they were all simply going into town, picking up baubles and coming back to the cottage. But now he's gone, and the only place to go is aboard the ship. This ruthless anxiety from leaving the isle will all be worth it when she sees her family.

Right?

Her foot catches on the dock before she steps onto the ship, and she wonders if it is a sign, wonders if she should turn back now and go back to the only place that has ever felt like home. Lottie and August step past her, boarding the ship and waiting for her to come along. So much of her does not want to follow, but she does. She must. Crew members carry their belongings behind them and lead them to their rooms. August is reluctant to stay alone, but Marigold reminds him that they are high society travelers now, and high society members of any kind are very strict. Boys stay in their own rooms, away from the girls without a chaperone.

Of course, it is not entirely devastating to have a full night alone with Lottie. The night after they all swam in the moon pool was fun, but it was just an evening of silly stories and games. This is different.

The walls of their room are decorated with damask wallpaper and brass sconces. There are two small beds across from each other, each with a small nightstand at their side. A velvet chaise sits next to the door that leads to their private balcony.

Lottie seems absolutely exhausted, which does not bode well for the evening. The woman is sour at the best of times, but she is lethal when she is tired. Without a word, she begins removing her modest black dress that hides her scars and tattoos. When she starts to remove her chemise, Marigold stops her with a gasp.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready for bed," Lottie says, her tone indicating that she does not understand Marigold's surprise.

"And you must undress completely for that?"

Lottie shrugs. "It's not like I have anything to hide now. You saw everything when we swam in that moon pool."

"Not everything," she protests. Her blush warms her cheek.

"It's burning hot. I can't sleep in this heap of fabric," Lottie says as she wrestles with her skirt. "Close your eyes if you're so squeamish." She tosses the chemise over her head and falls into bed on her front, leaving Marigold no time to avert her gaze. Her pale skin looks impossibly soft under the golden glow of candlelight.

"You don't have any tattoos on your back," Marigold says.

"Well, I can't exactly reach back there, can I?"

"Right. I forgot you do them all yourself. You're very talented."

Lottie laughs into her pillow like she does not believe a word she hears. "Am I?"

"I think so."

"I think," Lottie groans as she rolls over, keeping the blankets pressed to her front while looking up at her, "that you are merely trying to be polite, Mari. Tattoos aren't for everyone, and that's okay."

"Why would you think that I couldn't like tattoos?"

"Because you can barely look at my body right now without wincing. Or is that because of my scars?"

Marigold clenches her jaw tightly, so hard that her teeth could turn to powder beneath the weight of her bite. It's true that she won't look at Lottie's body, but not because of the scars or tattoos. She fears that if she looks too long, if she wants too much, she will break her own heart.

Lottie is not hers to admire.

Lottie is not hers to love.

Lottie is not hers at all.

And yet, she cannot stop herself from saying, "I think you are amazing."

At that, Lottie smiles. "For what?"

"For everything. Your talent, your skill, your ability to turn pain into something beautiful. You are an amazing person, Lottie. Even if you are always sour."

The two of them sit in a warm silence for a moment until Marigold sits on the edge of Lottie's bed. "You, your scars, and your tattoos are perfect as they are."

Lottie chews on her lip. "Why are you being so kind?"

"I'm merely telling you what I think."

Lottie sighs, expelling her nerves before she speaks. "I want to show you my favorite tattoo."

"Show me," she says before she can stop herself. This is what she has always wanted from Lottie—a chance to see her, really see her, and the art that makes up her person.

Lottie stands from the bed, allowing her body to be exposed to the candlelight. She keeps one arm over her breasts, and she extends her other arm to Marigold, bringing her in closer. There are black tattoos that cover her thighs, hips, and stomach. Flowers, faces, and more Latin phrases. Lottie says nothing as Marigold's eyes wander over her entire body, every scarred and inked inch touched by her gaze.

She stares for a long time. Too long. Pointing to a string of Latin across her rib cage, she asks, "What does this one mean?"

Lottie brings her hand in closer, letting it brush against the tattoo. She traces the tiny letters with her soft trembling fingers.

Vita brevis, ars aeternus

"Life is short, art is forever," Lottie says.

"And this one is your favorite?" Her voice is a dry whisper. Lottie shakes her head and takes Marigold's hand from her ribs to the space below her breasts. In this place sits a delicate arrow. She drops her other arm that was concealing her chest, letting the candlelight illuminate her entire body. Marigold gasps as she moves her head quickly, but Lottie brings a hand to her cheek and directs her gaze back down. She tucks Marigold's hair behind her ear, letting her nails drag softly through her wavy blond hair. With her other hand, she wraps her fingers around Marigold's hand and traces the lines of her sternum tattoo.

"This one is my favorite. And it's the first I ever did. I love it."

Every detail is perfect; the lines are smooth and solid. There is an intricate pattern of swirls and shapes surrounding the arrow. The longer she stares, she realizes that this arrow bears a striking similarity to the rune that she paints in the corners of the cottage during a protection spell. The same one on the back of her father's paintings. It could be chance, but she is all too clever to believe in happenstance over fate.

"Mari?" Lottie says, bringing her attention back up to her eyes.

Her blood is striking through her veins like lightning. "What made you want this one?" she asks as she flattens her palm over it, letting her fingers brush against the sides of Lottie's breasts.

Lottie's breath hitches. "Remember how I said I don't remember much of my parents? And I don't remember the fire? Well, I remember this," she says, keeping Marigold's hand on the ink. "I don't know where it came from, but this image is my first-ever memory. When I try to think of my childhood and what my life was like before the fire, this is all I can see."

Marigold's eyes widen, and her lips part in shock. Lottie said her mother believed in magic. She never said that her mother tried to use it. Clearly, she does not know what this rune means. Marigold cannot take her eyes away from the tattoo. What is hidden away in the back of Lottie's mind? What memories of hers hold the key to understanding this? Somehow, Lottie has been able to see the landv?ttir upon the isle. She has a tattoo to protect her, though she does not know what it means. And most of all, Marigold is beginning to care for her in a way that she shouldn't, in a way that she never expected, and if she did not know it to be impossible, she would think that Lottie cares for her as well.

"What are you thinking?"

Marigold places her hand in the space between her breasts. "I want one."

Lottie raises a brow. "You want what?"

"I want a tattoo. I want a tattoo of a bee in that same spot. I'll pay any price."

Lottie laughs so hard that she brings both of her hands up to her mouth. "You are joking."

"I…" She stumbles over her words as she pretends to still only be looking at Lottie's tattoo. "I think I am serious. Can we do it now? Before I get too scared?"

Lottie looks her up and down and ponders, her smirk widening into a grin. "Okay. Undress, Witch."