Wheeling Gull Isle but sleep won't set me free

That was a mouthful. She let her smile grow further, thinking of the way she used to introduce herself. Maegi Peryite Melonii, princess of Blackfeather Woods. How long had it been since she had used all of those names? Anymore, "Maegi" suited her just fine—and so she was relieved when he offered a single name, too.

Pharaoh, Maegi repeated, dipping her head in acknowledgement. She had expected the question (she sometimes welcomed it) but poison always brought Cicero to mind: his strange speech, his mismatched eyes, much like hers. My father taught me. He knew a lot about poisons. Their types, what they did, what they could do. . .

She trailed off, and then shrugged. I used to be much more interested in just poisons; now, I give attention to all plants, she continued, glancing down at the snow. The fertile soil underneath. . .spring was coming. Or it would; it always did. I've found much more need for plants that heal, rather than plants that harm. My enemies are scattered, but my family is—

Not here. Not all. Maegi swallowed, shaking her head. My family, ideally, is nearby, she said, her voice quieter. And should they come to harm, I need to help them.