The Girl Who Belonged to the Sea by Katherine Quinn

Chapter Eighteen

Margrete

After they exploredthe Kardias Cave, they wandered the beaches. Bay picked up a few shells claiming they were for Adrian, and while he talked, Margrete scanned their surroundings from the corner of her eyes. Bay began to rant about the newest recruits he had to deal with when Margrete spotted a few fishing vessels moored below the palace. They appeared out of use, likely older crafts no one had bothered to fix up, but they could float. Right now, that was all she could hope for. Although, getting ahold of one of them unnoticed would be damn near impossible.

“Seems like you’ve got your hands full,” she remarked, once Bay finished venting. “But from what Adrian’s told me, you’re the most skilled warrior on the island.”

Bay scoffed, but the barest hint of a blush washed over his cheeks. “He has to say that.”

Margrete laughed and shook her head. “I don’t think Adrian says what he doesn’t mean.”

As Bay’s blush grew, her eyes drifted to the tall grasses ten or so yards ahead. She noticed a patch of the rare yellow flowers she discovered her first day on the island. The temptation to pluck one and bring it home with her to study struck, but it would die before she landed on Prias. She sighed, about to move away from the cluster of flowers, when a trace of blue caught her eye. She stilled.

Perhaps the God of the Sea had heard her prayers after all.

Liander Blooms. She recalled the flower from the book Bash had left in her room. Leaving her with such knowledge was a mistake he hadn’t realized he’d made.

The purple flower was rare, its violet petals and brilliant silver center sought out for a single purpose in this part of the world: sedation.

“Look, Solanthiums,” she said excitedly, gaining Bay’s attention. She picked up the pace, knowing he’d be right on her heels. She had to get closer to those blooms. “They’re supposed to be extinct.”

Her enthusiasm was easy to feign, and Bay indulged her when she crouched next to the patch and ran her hands through the satiny petals.

“Bash wasn’t lying when he said you were interested in plants.” Bay settled beside her.

Margrete’s hand stilled. Bash spoke about her to the others, and it had nothing to do with who she was to Azantian...or her father.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Margrete let her hand drift to the left, out of Bay’s view, as she grabbed the stems of the three Liander Blooms growing amongst the Solanthiums. There were only a few stems, another grouping farther down, but she didn’t want to give away her plan before it even had a chance to form. She prayed the few petals she’d been able to pluck would be enough.

“Bash also seemed pleased to learn from Adrian that you throw a decent punch,” Bay added with a grin that took up his whole face. He seemed pleased about that fact as well.

“If I’m honest, I’m surprised he speaks of me at all, especially if my father isn’t involved in the conversation,” she said, standing. Her palms grew clammy, and not just from what she held in her closed fist. She hastily tucked the petals inside her pocket and wiped the residual sap on her trousers.

Bay rose, one corner of his mouth quirking. “Oh, sweet Margrete. Please don’t tell me you’re that naïve.” He chuckled, ushering her back to the path.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied coolly. She knew what he was insinuating, and the very idea of it was preposterous.

“Of course, you don’t.” His grin grew even wider. “Now, let’s head back because I hear the cook is serving something other than seafood for lunch. Thank the Gods,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Margrete followed, her heart racing, and not at the mention of Bash having taken a liking to her.

She had a sedative and, if things went her way, she had a boat, too.

Now all she needed was the right timing.

Back in her rooms, Margrete immediately opened the book of flora and fauna. Flipping through the pages, she spotted the telltale petals of the Liander Bloom. According to the description, a paste could be made using the crushed petals and a teaspoon of water.

Using the bathing suite’s marble countertop as a makeshift workstation, Margarete cupped the two ingredients in her palm and used the rounded handle of her hairbrush to grind the petals into the water. After some time, a paste formed.

Margrete wasn’t sure how much she would need to knock out a fully grown man—let alone a fully grown Azantian man—but she prayed she had enough.

She wrapped the thick paste in a silken scarf and hid it in her pocket.

It wasn’t until Bay showed up to escort her to dinner that Margrete realized she’d neglected to check for a new book from Bash. With a sidelong glance at her untouched breakfast tray, she glimpsed the edge of a red cover peeking out from beneath a folded napkin.

“Forget something?” Bay asked, hesitating by the portal.

Margrete turned on her heel, abandoning the book and the secrets within its pages.

“No,” she said. “I have everything I need.”