Karter clapped his hands together. “Yup! See? Briseis got a creep vibe from him, but she’s tryna downplay it.”

“Oh, I like you,” Marie said, smiling.

Karter cocked his head to the side. “He said something about his grandpa but you’re—”

“Okay,” I said cutting off that line of questioning before it could get started. “Come inside so I can show y’all something.”

We went in and said hi to my parents, who were watching something on my laptop in the front room. I led Marie and Karter upstairs and into the turret. I turned on the light before flipping to the page in the big book that showed the illustration of the Absyrtus Heart.

Karter stared down at the illustration. “Is this a plant?”

“It’s called the Absyrtus Heart.”

“Is this in your garden?” he asked. “I didn’t see it.”

“Yeah, it’s in the Poison Garden. I haven’t cultivated it. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s poisonous—the most toxic thing I’ve ever touched.”

“You touched it?” Marie asked.

I shrank back. “I thought it would be like all the other poisonous stuff I can touch, but it felt like my hand was gonna fall off.”

Marie crossed her arms over her chest. “I need you to stop trying to get yourself killed.”

I gently squeezed her arm. “You were right about it not being like the other plants.” I flipped through the drawings in the book. “All the other plants have instructions, but not the Heart. I wouldn’t have known how to cultivate it, but now I do.”

“What changed?” Karter asked.

“I found a document and Marie helped me get it translated. It’s old. Ancient, actually. It told the story of Medea.” I gestured toward the painting on the wall. “She was from a place called Colchis, the same name of my birth family.” I had to say out loud what my gut told me was the truth. “I think—I think I’m related to her.”

Marie gasped so hard she started to cough.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Karter shook his head. “You really think your family tree goes back that far?”

“It makes sense,” I said. “I thought Circe and Selene were obsessed with her, but it’s not that. It’s normal to have portraits of your relatives hanging up, right?”

Karter shrugged. “I guess?”

“And she was a poisonist,” I said.

“What’s a poisonist?” he asked.