Chapter 6 Sasha #2
“That’s a lot to carry,” I said softly, realizing that I’d also carried a lot of weight after my parents died. I’d been so determined to make sure they didn’t miss anything due to our loss, that maybe…
Had I missed out on things for myself instead?
He glanced at me, and his hand found my elbow as we navigated around a patch of loose stones. The touch lingered even after we’d passed the rough terrain.
“Your grandmother’s correspondence about our potential marriage arrived as I was beginning to worry about the festival,” he said.
“I saw it as a possible solution. A witch’s magic might help where fae magic was failing.
She told me you had strategic magic. I hoped it could solve this problem my intuition and fae spells couldn’t unravel.
And when her subsequent letters mentioned your affinity for plant magic, I would’ve agreed to a match even with Savory. ”
My raven snorted.
Dominic shook his head. “Then the damned giggling started and ruined everything.”
“You didn’t ruin everything,” I said.
The walls are softening, Savory said. Sometimes truth slips through the cracks.
“I humiliated you at our wedding,” Dominic said, his voice tight with regret. “I made a mockery of your sincere vows. I would understand if you hated me for it.”
“I don’t, actually. I was hurt. Who wouldn’t be? Angry too. But I’m beginning to think there’s more to this than it appears.”
We reached a stone bench beneath a flowering tree whose blossoms had only partially wilted and sat close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
His giggling had almost stopped.
“This is the first time since your grandmother’s letters that I’ve been able to speak normally for more than a few minutes,” he said, studying his hands. “Do you know what a relief it is to not have every serious thought interrupted by involuntary laughter?”
The pattern emerges, Savory said, flying down onto the grass to peck at insects. But does the witch see it yet?
I did. Or I was beginning to.
My mind raced back through the morning, cataloging details. Everyone at breakfast had giggled uncontrollably. His mother, Lady Kenneth, Lady Edwina, and Lord Turren, all of them dissolving into laughter they clearly couldn’t control.
Everyone except me.
“When you’re responsible for others, you can’t afford to show weakness,” I heard myself say, the words emerging from that vulnerable place I usually kept locked away.
“My sisters needed me to be strong after our parents died. Cyrene was so young, and Adele had nightmares for months. I couldn’t fall apart, so I became the one who made plans and anticipated problems. The one who kept us all safe. ”
Dominic’s hand covered mine on the bench between us. “That’s a tremendous burden for someone so young.”
“I felt I was the only one who could carry it.” I looked down at our joined hands, his larger than mine. “I learned to trust strategy over emotion. Plans over spontaneity. Control over chaos.”
“And then you married into the most chaotic court in the realm,” he said with a small smile that held no trace of laughter.
“Fate has a sense of humor.”
Or fate knows what you need, Savory said.
I pulled my focus back to the problem at hand, reviewing the morning’s events.
“Dominic, I think I’m starting to notice a pattern,” I said. “You said the giggling started about a week ago?”
“Yes. Within days of receiving your grandmother’s letter.” His brow furrowed. “I thought it was stress at first. Anxiety about the alliance manifesting in strange ways.”
“And this morning at breakfast, when did it start for you?”
“Before I came down to eat, actually. I woke up feeling fine, but once I’d dressed and had tea in my room, the giggling began. I went to the greenhouse and stayed there until it faded.”
My pulse quickened. “You said tea in your room?”
“Yes, the servants send it every morning. I usually drink a pot while reviewing the day’s schedule.”
I stood, pacing in front of the bench while my mind worked through this, Savory hopping aside to avoid my feet, grumbling about me squishing the bugs before she could snatch them up alive.
“Everyone at breakfast was drinking tea,” I said, talking through this out loud. “All of them started giggling after they had it.”
“But you didn’t.” Dominic rose, understanding beginning to dawn.
“I had primwort instead.” I turned to face him, excitement building inside me. “I’m the only person who drank something different, and I’m the only person unaffected.”
The witch’s mind cuts through chaos like a blade through silk, Savory said with satisfaction.
“Are you saying the tea is causing this?” Dominic stepped closer, his gorgeous green eyes intent on my face.
“I think so. Or something in the tea.” I pulled up the mental inventory I’d been building. “When you’re here in the gardens and away from the manor house, the giggling stops. When you’re near the buildings, particularly in the dining room or your private chambers, it’s constant.”
“Because that’s where I drink tea.” Wonder and relief warred in his expression. “Fates, Sasha. You’re brilliant.”
Warmth flooded through me at the admiration in his voice. This wasn’t playful flirtation or courtly flattery, but respect for my analytical skills.
Working beside him felt surprisingly natural, our minds syncing on the problem like interlocking pieces of a strategy board. Too natural, perhaps. I reminded myself that distraction led to oversights, and people were counting on me to stay sharp.
“We need to test the theory,” I said, already strategizing the next steps. “Can you remember if the giggling only happens after you drink tea, or does it persist throughout the day?”
He thought for a moment, his expression intensely focused in a way that made my breath catch. This was the real Dominic, I realized. Serious, thoughtful, and intelligent beneath the charming facade.
“It does seem to fade if I go long enough without having tea,” he said slowly. “Yesterday, I had tea before we left for your grandmother’s estate. The giggling was worst during the vows, but by the time we transported here, and I showed you around, it had lessened somewhat.”
“Because the effects were wearing off,” I said, pieces clicking into place. “Then this morning you had tea again, and—”
“The giggling returned full force.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in places that shouldn’t have been endearing but absolutely were. “You’re suggesting an external cause. Maybe it’s not stress or anxiety or some failing on my part.”
The relief in his voice made my chest ache.
“I don’t believe you were ever the problem,” I said.
He looked at me then, and something passed between us that had nothing to do with magic or political alliances. Understanding, maybe. Or the beginning of trust.
I suspected he was testing whether I saw this as a simple alliance or the chance for something deeper. I met his gaze but kept my response focused on our shared goal.
“You saw past the symptoms to the actual issue,” he said. “Most people would’ve accepted the obvious explanation. But you questioned, analyzed, and tested your theories.”
“Well, we’ll need to do more testing. This is just supposition on my part.”
“No, it’s all you.” He stepped closer, near enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “I’ve never seen anything quite like the passionate focus you use when you’re solving a problem. Your entire being transforms. It’s remarkable.”
A blush crept up my neck. I wasn’t used to being praised for my analytical nature. Most people found it off-putting, too intense, too serious for social situations.
But Dominic looked at me like he’d discovered something wonderful.
He sees you, Savory said. The real you, not the protective walls.
“We still need to confirm the source,” I said, steering us back to the practical matter even as my pulse raced. It would be better to frame this as a useful partnership than let attraction mess with my judgment. “And figure out who has access to the tea service.”
“The kitchen staff prepares all the tea,” Dominic said, his brow furrowing. “But they serve everyone in the court. If the tea itself were compromised, more people would be affected.”
“Unless it’s targeted.” I paced again, thinking through possibilities. “Someone could be adding something to specific servings. Your morning tea, the breakfast service in the dining room.”
“But who would do that and why?”
The question hung between us, ominous despite the pleasant late-morning sunshine and the wilting tree overhead.
I reviewed what I knew about court politics, which admittedly wasn’t much. “Who benefits from you appearing foolish or from the festival potentially failing?”
“No one that I can think of. The festival’s success reflects well on the entire court. And making me look incompetent…” Irritation flickered across his features. “There are always those who question whether I’m fit to rule. Who think I’m too young, too different from my mother.”
“We need to find proof,” I said. “If the tea is the source, we may be able to discover how it’s being tampered with and who’s behind it.”
“You’re really willing to help with this?”
“Of course I am. You’re my husband.” The word felt strange on my tongue, but not wrong. “And this is affecting more than just you now. Your mother, your lords and ladies, and potentially everyone who might come in contact with whatever this is. Assuming it’s something you’re ingesting.”
He reached for my hand, his fingers threading through mine with an easy familiarity that shouldn’t have felt natural after only one day of marriage.
“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate that you’re not judging me about this.”
My defenses wanted to snap back into place, to protect myself from the vulnerability I’d carried for most of my life. But looking up at him and seeing the gratitude and growing respect in his eyes made me feel like opening myself to him, not hiding.
“We should head back,” I said, though I made no move to pull my hand from his. “We can test the tea theory.”
“You’re practical and methodical,” he said with a smile that carried warmth and a hint of question, as if he could be wondering if I saw him in more than a professional way. “I’m beginning to appreciate those qualities more than you know.”
I nodded, deflecting. “They serve the work well.”
We started back toward the manor house, walking slowly. Savory flew ahead, soaring up into the trees and then back down, peering back to make sure we were still following.
The heart engages before the mind can build its walls, she said.
I’m not sure about that, I replied.
She just scoffed.
We stepped into the manor house.
“We need to know who prepares the tea,” I said. “But we’ll need to be discreet.”
“Agreed.”
“Or we could observe.” I paused in the hallway, an idea forming. “We could pick odd times to go to the kitchen and watch the them prepare the tea. See who touches what.”
“That’s smart.” He looked at me with admiration that spread warmth through my chest. “You’d make a great spy.”
“Strategy witch, remember? Observation and planning are what I do best.”
“Let’s start by asking a few careful questions and see if we can discover anything.”
We continued down the hall, aiming for the kitchens.
“Sasha,” he said, tugging on my hand, making me turn back. “Today you’ve given me hope that this might be solvable. And that maybe this marriage can be more than just political necessity.”
“Maybe it could.”
The seedling shows itself, Savory said. What grows from here will need careful tending.
Dominic and I shared a smile and walked into the kitchen.