Chapter Fifteen
Aldrich had laid a meal for me in my sitting room by the time I got out of the bath. To my disgust and concern, my energy had returned, my dizziness had completely abated, and the eggs, fried ham, and cut fruit smelled like heaven—my nausea had passed completely.
Just gone. As if Stefan’s touch and heat and voice and cock had been all the healing I needed.
I couldn’t think about what that might mean, or I’d be sick after all.
“Lord Stefan left this for you before he went out, my lord,” Aldrich said as he shook out my napkin, nodding at the envelope tucked under the saucer of my teacup. “A messenger brought it half an hour ago, and Lord Stefan said you should read it too.”
My hand froze in mid-air in the act of reaching for it.
Went out? Went out? Oh, I had to get a hold of myself.
He’d put off his inquiries last night in deference to my illness, but I couldn’t expect him to moon about the house waiting for me to bathe and eat and dress now that I’d mostly recovered.
The letter had to be from Lord Benedict, but I picked up the cup first—curls of steam rose from my freshly poured tea, and I couldn’t resist the temptation of a first sip, or anything else, any more than any other man. As this morning clearly proved. Gods.
I drained half the cup before I unfolded the letter. It confirmed that Lord Benedict had found traces of poison in two separate wine bottles his servant had filched from a crate of garbage in lady Vienni’s kitchen yard.
Lord Benedict mentioned an enclosed wine label, but Stefan had apparently taken that out before he passed the letter to me.
I made a mental note to confirm with him that it had come from his sister-in-law’s estates, and—oh, gods.
My sister-in-law, now, too. I sat and stared down at the letter without seeing it at all.
I’d been so focused on the tumultuous events taking place in my bedroom that I’d neglected the wider implications: family ties, international politics, commerce, the great world, all of it now relevant to me and my life rather than a set of distant, hazy issues that didn’t concern me in the slightest.
Ennolu help me, but I couldn’t worry about any of that before I’d eaten. I set to, my appetite another uncomfortable reminder of how much I’d enjoyed my morning—as if the way I had to adjust myself in my chair wasn’t enough.
The door knocker clacked distantly right as I stuck my fork into the last bite of ham. Stefan!
No, not Stefan, and I hated the way I’d come to attention at the thought. He wouldn’t knock at his own door. A last savored forkful and a sip of tea later, and Aldrich opened the door and slipped through in a hurry, peeking out through the crack with wild eyes before he shut it firmly behind him.
“The Lord Chancellor!” he hissed, putting his back to the door as if he thought he’d need to bar someone’s attempts to force it. “He’s here!”
The sick, thudding lurch of my heart couldn’t have been a greater contrast with the soft flutter I’d had a moment before when I thought Stefan might have returned, an irony I didn’t enjoy.
“He’s here?” I asked stupidly. “Here? In this house?”
“He wanted to come upstairs, but I told him you’re in the bath.
Now he’s in the reception room terrorizing the footmen.
He says he’s perfectly happy to wait for you, but he’s obviously not perfectly happy about anything at all on this earth, my lord.
He has someone with him, too. One of his aides, I think?
I don’t know. Maybe they’re in a hurry to get somewhere on official business. ”
An aide? Oh, gods, probably Ser Prendian, the one man in the world I might be less eager to see than my father-in-law.
“Doesn’t he want to see Lord Stefan?” I asked desperately, although I knew in my roiling stomach that he didn’t.
He hadn’t poisoned Stefan. Proof of consummation could only come from me—hopefully in the form of the kind of magical examination Lord Benedict had done rather than some barbarically old-fashioned inspection of my body. “Has someone sent for him?”
Stefan wouldn’t want me to see his father alone and without his knowledge. In fact, he’d be horrified. Even furious.
And if this had happened a few days ago, I’d have assumed his rage would be directed at me as much as at his father, and I’d have been right.
But now…gods, I wanted him here, and not because I thought he’d be angry with me.
Last night, he’d proved that I could trust him—not as a lover, perhaps. That would be foolish beyond belief, to fatuously imagine that one could depend on the feelings of someone who knew every whore in Nevaia by name.
Not that I gave one single damn for Stefan’s feelings, if they even existed.
No. But I could depend on him as an ally and a protector. He’d brought me home discreetly enough that I hadn’t become the laughingstock of the whole city, exercised all of his ill-gotten skill in bed to take me without hurting me, and summoned Lord Benedict to ensure my health and well-being.
Perhaps I should tell the Lord Chancellor as much when I went to see him in a few minutes. Thank him for finding me such a kind husband.
My laugh startled an open-mouthed stare out of poor Aldrich, who must’ve thought I’d finally lost my mind.
“We don’t know where Lord Stefan went, my lord, I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t think he can be summoned back immediately. Do you wish to dress now? Or I can tell the Lord Chancellor you’re not well enough to receive him.”
His voice shook slightly, but he kept his chin up—the demeanor of a junior officer volunteering for a suicide mission.
Whether or not I’d be willing to send him on one, my father-in-law would bully his way into my private rooms if I claimed to be ill. He wouldn’t go away without verifying his success.
Outside, the morning had developed into a stunning spring day, with pale yellow sunshine pouring down in profligate excess over a tree covered in lavender blossoms. Hanging myself from it might be my best shot at avoiding my father-in-law.
No, I had no choice.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll go down. Help me dress. I wish I hadn’t eaten all of that.” My stomach had turned into a tangled knot wrapped around a stone made of ham. “And send someone to find Lord Stefan if they can.”
So that I could throttle him for leaving me alone to be ambushed by his horrid father. But I managed not to say that out loud. I needed to save my breath for what came next.
Stepping into the reception room downstairs took every bit of courage I possessed. A footman whose name I hadn’t learned yet gave me a grimace and nod of sympathy as he opened the door for me, and that both helped and didn’t. Nice to have the moral support—but he obviously thought I needed it.
As I entered, the Lord Chancellor turned from where he stood examining a painting hung in the corner of the room near the windows looking out on the street.
I had no idea what the subject of the artwork might be; I’d never been in this room before.
It underlined what shaky ground I stood on, here in my own home, where I ought to be confident in my mastery.
Damn it, that painting belonged to me, at least in some nominal sense!
The aide he’d brought with him, a tall, lean, dark-haired man in the kind of plain gray robe worn by mages and lay priests, stood quietly by the window, hands folded in his long sleeves.
The tips of my fingers tingled, and I fought the urge to rub them together to rid myself of the sensation. Lord Ettori’s eyes had narrowed as he began a survey of me, up and down, and any little sign of weakness would be noticed.
His lips parted as he drew in breath to speak.
The pricking in my fingers intensified almost to the point of pain.
Magic. My magic. It had to be, and now that I’d identified it, I knew what it wanted: to light my father-in-law on fire.
And gods, but I wanted that too, in some feral, long-suppressed part of my mind that the abbey’s strictures had tried to train out of me along with my need for my cursed magic.
The knowledge that I probably could set him on fire stiffened my spine. That, and reminding myself that Lord Benedict had promised Fina would be safe.
“How kind of you to call on me, my lord,” I said, cutting him off before he could speak, and drawing on every memory I had of my mother greeting guests when I was a child.
“I am honored. Can I offer you gentlemen refreshment? Unfortunately, my husband is out.” Very unfortunately, because I had little doubt he’d throw Lord Ettori out in turn if he were here.
He took a step forward, still examining me—and if I’d annoyed him, he had far too much poise to show it. The other man stayed where he was, also watching me.
“But as you say, I came to call on you, Remi.” I’d expected coldness, but…
no, of course not. Of course he was pleased.
He hadn’t poisoned me because he wanted me dead, he’d poisoned me because he wanted my marriage consummated and legal, with Stefan firmly embroiled in Lord Ettori’s plans for his future.
“I don’t need any particular hospitality.
Only to sit with you a few minutes. And chat. ”
Chat. Oh, gods. Lord Benedict won’t allow him to hurt my family. If I repeated that enough, I’d be able to keep my fear at bay.
But this man was dangerous, and he’d helped murder my father and uncle, and I hated him, and he terrified me no matter what Duke Lucian’s policy on executing fifteen-year-olds might be.
If Lord Ettori wanted to hurt me, he’d find a way, as last night had proved.
Swallowing hard, I perched on one end of the sofa he’d waved at, and he took a much more relaxed seat on the next cushion. Too close.