Page 35 of Immortal Rose

“Well?” Foxcourt prompted. “Rosebourne said the perfume could be made again. Is that not the case?”

“If he believed he could re-create it, then yes, I should be able to as well,” I said. The formulation would be a well-guarded secret, but I knew where to look for it. The only place for it. “But the creation of such a perfume will take a great deal from me, and so I must increase its price.”

Eleanor straightened at that, casting a nervous glance at Foxcourt, whose own expression had carefully shuttered. Oh, I would enjoy this. Every moment of it.

“Ah, and so the blood will out!” the King said with a humorless laugh, a wet, grotesque sound from deep in his chest. “I knew there’d be more Rosebourne in you than that infernal hair. Go on, tell me what it is you want.”

“Being freed from prison and granted a pardon isn’t enough?” Foxcourt cut in icily.

I took a deep breath. My courage had never failed me before, and it wouldn’t now.

“Your Majesty, if I create this perfume for you, I would like my pardon, yes,” I began. “But I would also like you to legitimize me as Rosebourne’s rightful heir and ensure that I am able to inherit the whole of the Rosebourne fortune and company holdings.”

The intensity of their combined shock turned the air leathery. In that moment, I was certain I could have knocked the earl over with a single tap on his shoulder.

Foxcourt was the first to recover. His voice was low, grinding. “I beg your pardon . . .”

The words faded beneath the King’s tortured laugh.

“Impertinent chit!” he said, his brown teeth bared in a loathsome smile. But he knew what I did. His life was in my hands, and whether he lived or died rested solely in a fateful swirl of oils and magic.

“That is, of course, within your vast influence and power,” Eleanor said, coming to stand beside me. Her face betrayed none of it, but her essence was salted with desperation now. “It would be a simple matter of signing documents and would be the best way to ensure you also continue to receive the King’s Blend perfume. How clever of you to hold out for such a beneficial agreement, Uncle.”

“Yes, well,” King Alfred muttered, “my wisdom has always been remarked upon.”

“Quite” was Foxcourt’s dry reply.

I looked upon Eleanor with a new appreciation, meeting her tentative smile and nod with one of my own. The broadsheets had remarked upon what an accomplished horsewoman the princess was. At the tender age of sixteen, she was already proving to be a deft hand at maneuvering ill-tempered creatures.

It would be her hands I’d place my trust in, and I had to hope that, beneath the fine silk gloves and her soft skin, there was steel hidden there.

“Then yes,” I said, folding my hands together in front of me. “We have a bargain.”

Chapter Eight

After the stifling misery of the King’s sickroom, the palace’s servants’ corridor felt like cold satin against my flushed skin, but it did little to slow my galloping heart.

He had agreed.

Impossibly, that wild, unthinking urge—that shameless ask I had never once dared to even entertain before—had paid off. Or would, just as soon as I upheld my end of the deal. A formality soon dealt with, because I would be as dead and damned as William Rosebourne before I let the opportunity slip away.

A warm smugness curled like a contented cat in my chest. Rosebourne must be writhing in the flames of hell at the mere possibility of his legacy falling into the hands of an unwanted sideslip.

The inheritance would change my life. I could pay for my own protection, against not just the past, but anyone who might harm me. It would allow me to change the lives of countless others for that matter. All the vast Rosebourne resources would be at my disposal; the notion that it was for a gutless king hardly seemed to signify. I would hold my nose, offer what the magic would demand, and I would be free.

Immortal Rose. A perfume of legend that would begin my own.

As my mind dreamily sorted through the faded notes that had clung to the flacon, the stench of the King’s poisoned body dissipated like his foul breath in the air. Still, it trailed after me like a second shadow as I followed the earl and princess down the hall.

My effervescent joy must have registered like a fly buzzing at his ear. His pale gaze flicked back over his shoulder, meeting mine for the briefest moment. It was a look that vowed, We shall speak of it later.

I smiled serenely in return, which appeared to be far more effective at harassing him than even an east city greeting.

Now you know what it feels like, I thought, being hemmed into a decision you might not have otherwise made.

Like a child, it would be good for him to not get his way for once. And far better, it had given me a sense of power after he had gone to such lengths to strip that autonomy from me.

Foxcourt’s attention returned to Eleanor with a snort at something she’d said, winning a laugh from the willowy girl. My smile hardened, stiffening as my teeth set against one another.