I downed another fiery gulp. The only bit of warmth in my body at the moment. “Not Rose. The Queen.” I recognized this situation for what it was: another one of the evil witch’s plots. Just like the blight. Bringing Leesha back from the dead meant she would have eyes and ears in this castle. “Leesha’s not a birthday gift. She’s a feckin’ spy.”
Tadhg started nodding emphatically, splashing drink onto his breeches. “A spy. You’re right. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”
Of course I was right.
Wasn’t I? “But how do we know for certain?”
Tadhg tilted his glass toward me. “You could always ask her,” he said, like it was some sort of great epiphany.
“Ask who? The Queen?” As if she’d do anything but laugh in my face. Besides, did I really want to risk losing my heartagainto my mother?
“Not the Queen, you eejit.Leesha.”
Icouldask Leesha. But there was only one problem. “I won’t be able to smell a lie if she doesn’t know she’s a spy.”
“You won’t be able to smell anything but your own vomit if you don’t stop drinking.”
My stomach roiled. He had a point there. I set the bottle on the low table and fell back into my chair. It wouldn’t hurt to ask Leesha a few questions, would it? It wasn’t like I could avoid her forever. The sooner I sorted this out, the sooner I could put the whole situation behind me and move forward.
Now to figure out how to pry without Leesha getting suspicious. I needed a disguise. Thankfully, I was a master of disguises.
I glamoured myself as my favorite character to date: Lady Marissa. The unruly minx could say whatever she wanted, consequences be damned. When I “accidentally” ran into Leesha, she wouldn’t suspect a thing. This would be perfect.
Tadgh glanced up from his own glass, his eyes widening.
“What do you think?” I shook out my black ringlet curls.
“I think that neckline makes look like a trollop,” he murmured into his glass.
Trollop my arse. Tadhg was a feckin’ trollop. “It does not. This is a classy neckline paired with a timeless silhouette.
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
“You shouldn’t be looking at my neckline anyway. You have a fiancée. Pervert.”
“I doubt my fiancée will have an issue with me commenting on my brother’s glamoured breasts.”
“What’s wrong with my breasts?” They looked brilliant from this angle.
“They’re a bit large, aren’t they?”
“I’ll have you know, I have gotten more than a few lewd comments on these,” I scoffed, clutching my chest. If he didn’t have anything nice to say, he should’ve kept his opinions to himself. My skirts swished as I swept out of the room. What did he know, anyway?
The moment I set foot in the hallway, I heard Leesha’s laughter drifting from the kitchens. Shouldn’t she be in bed?
Memories of all the times I’d found her chatting with our kitchen witch flooded back. She’d spent almost as much time with Eava as she had with me. When I descended the stairs, a sight I never thought I’d see again greeted me: Leesha propped on one of the high stools, a cinnamon bun dangling from her fingertips and smile on her face. For once, Eava wasn’t cooking. She sat on the other side of the table, returning the human’s smile.
When Eava saw me, she did a double take. Her eyes widened, and she choked on whatever she’d been chewing.
Leesha glanced over her shoulder, a warm smile concealing her surprise. “Oh, hello.”
“Hello.” I glided over to the high counter. “I apologize for calling over this late, but I was visiting my brother down the road and wanted to call in on Lady Keelynn before returning home. Is she in?”
Eava’s wispy brows jumped to her hairline. “She is. Will I fetch her?”
“That would be brilliant, thank you.” I slipped onto the stool next to Leesha and held out my dainty hand. “I’m Marissa. What’s your name?”
Leesha’s cool fingers slipped into mine. “Leesha.”