Book One: The Marigold's Larkspur ~ A tale of mystery, magic, and obsession.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The lemony herbaceous scent of moon-soaked geraniums permanented the Golden Courtyard as Cressida and Quail crouched down within the flowerbeds, carefully hidden behind a prickly hedge.

They watched as Tavian stood beneath a white archway, leaning against the wood, his eyes closed.

"...guess he also couldn't stand to hear that slick viper's speech." Quail muttered to her. "I don't blame him."

Cressida hadn't realized how cold the Great Hall had been until now, as the heated summer air draped around her shoulders, heavy and lifeless. Ruststain was perched on Quail's arm, awaiting further instructions, while Edelweiss returned to the comfort of her hood, her claws digging uncomfortably into Cressida's neck.

"Well, he's where we wanted him." Cressida whispered. "But now what?"

"Frankly, I'm not sure, Princess. I've never exactly interrogated someone before. I should have asked your prince for tips."

"Pretty sure you don't have the same...tools available."

"Guess I could threaten Tavian again. That worked out pretty well before."

"You don't think he'd be more likely to threaten you back? You don't exactly look your best right now Quail."

"Now that's just hurtful, Princess."

Cressida stifled a dark chuckle, realizing the absurdity of their situation and their exchange. Her heart pounded in her ears.

"No offense, Quail, but I think we should approach this with more subtlety," Cressida whispered, "We need information, not a fight. We need to find out if he's responsible for what happened to Cilla, or if he knows who is."

Quail sighed, "Subtle isn't usually how my personality is described. This might be best left up to you, Birdie. You have a song in mind?"

Cressida wracked her brain. "I don't know, Quail. I don't really know anything about him except he's hot tempered."

"A bit lazy too, given he's skipping out on his duties right now."

"I could probably make him fall asleep," she murmured. "But we wouldn't get anything out of him that way."

"You could try hypnotizing him? Tavian's rather gullible."

"...I don't have a song for that, Quail."

"You don't need a song. You just need the right words. 'Hello, dirt for brains, did you hurt my friend?'"

"...yeah, that would work perfectly, Quail." Cressida closed her eyes tightly, feeling a tension headache coming on. "Let me think..."

Cressida's mind raced. What could she even say? She had lucked out with Leska, utilizing her existing emotions, and bringing them to the surface.

"Better think quick, Birdie." Quail said in a rush. "He's on the move."

Cressida's eyes popped open, watching as Tavian stretched, his gaze darting towards the courtyard doors, as if he were preparing to return. She took a deep breath, tensing her body to take action.

"Quail, keep a lookout," she whispered urgently. "If anyone approaches, give me a signal."

Quail nodded, "...you have a plan?"

"Nope!"

Cressida focused her attention on Tavian, who was now moving toward the courtyard's exit. She needed to get him away from the door. When she saw his back to her, she emerged from the foliage as silently as she could, painting her expression into a mask of horror and desperation. With her heart pounding rapidly in her ears, it wasn't hard to fake.