Page 24 of Fang Fatale

“Accurate.”

She adjusts one of the roses, then beckons me closer with a crooked finger.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why Birdie Longfellow ran.”

Lavinia’s hands still.

Only for a moment.

Then she resumes trimming the stems.

“Everyone said they were perfect together.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Leland sent her flowers every week. Expensive ones. Never the same arrangement twice.” Her mouth tightens. “People thought it was romantic.”

“You didn’t?”

“I’m a florist, Alaric. I know the difference between flowers given with love and flowers sent to remind someone they’ve been watched.”

Interesting.

I move closer to the counter. “Did Birdie say that?”

“She didn’t have to.”

“But she spoke to you.”

Lavinia releases a dry laugh that rustles like dead leaves.

“Nobody tells the florist they’re unhappy. They discuss color palettes and table settings. They ask whether gardenias wilt under pressure.”

“And what did Birdie ask?”

Her gaze lifts to mine.

“She asked which flowers look best at funerals.”

The joke waiting on my tongue dies before it reaches the air.

Lavinia sets down her shears.

“She wasn’t excited about the wedding. She was resigned to it. There’s a difference, though most people don’t notice until the bride runs.”

“What was she afraid of?”

“I don’t know. Birdie guarded every word like Leland had already charged her interest on it.” Lavinia turns the vase a quarter turn. “But whenever his name came up, she looked toward the nearest exit.”

That matches the woman outside Hex & Honey far more closely than anything Leland told me.

“Did she mention the Forbidden Forest?”

“No, but Leland did.”

I go still. “When?”