THE POISONER
As with every day since waking, the day was slow, my body was slower.
My first task was training my body to adjust to keep down anything of substance, even if it was nutritionally deficient.
Amelia had made czernina with plain human blood to begin expanding my stomach.
Because of the cooked nature, I could keep it down, which is all I could ask for.
I didn’t dare drink bloodwine, even if I was mostly positive that I was well enough to earn some inebriation.
With my soup in a coffee cup, I could take small sips as I worked. Lab rules were broken today, but that was fine so long as I didn’t have any instruments out.
The warm broth gave me some comfort. The fatigue was an ongoing battle that simply couldn’t be fought without proper food.
On the positive side, with the added hydration, I could extract more venom from myself. Eventually I made it to six flasks, which may become two or three after reduction.
The distillation apparatus dripped like a metronome to keep my journaling pace. The noontime sun coming from the skylight shone on me as if I were on a stage. The clear venom became slightly clouded as the excess water was removed from the solution.
One observation was that there was no smell. I could name almost every chemical scent in the lab now, but not venom. Blood, sweat, and other secretions were easy to pin . . . but not venom.
Venom was always a slow collection process. So was the process of concentrating it. But in order to be able to test with it, I’d need a lot more.
A gentle rasp at the entrance pulled me from my thoughts.
Sidney opened the door. His body language was loose, his shirt open and his shoulder-length hair pulled back into a small tail.
“Your presence is requested.” Even Sidney couldn’t help but be distracted by the laboratory.
“Immediately?”
“At your leisure.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Even when dressed so informally, somehow he looked quite fashionable. Not nearly enough to wear it outside, but I suppose when you were covered up to your neck in sailor tattoos, there was no point in impressing society.
“How do you get them to stay?” I tipped my pen at his torso.
He looked down, pulling the shirt open a little to stare at the imagery. “Had them before.” He shrugged. The open shirt revealed more.
Overpowered by curiosity, I stood, staring at his chest like a man at a brothel. Just under the pectoral muscle was a jagged scar, but it could almost be missed. Only a slight difference in color and without much texture due to phenomenal healing. There were two, one on each side of the chest.
“Those too?” I hovered my finger above them, but pulled back.
He tipped his head, granting permission to touch.
I ran my fingertip over the scar. “Is this why mine stayed?” I gestured to my abdomen.
“Some even keep the bite mark that turned them,” he said. “Depends on the condition of your body before turning.”
His tattoos were still fairly vibrant, a red chrysanthemum covered the front of his neck and the side, then patchwork filling in all around the chest, arms, and fingers. I had no reason to doubt he had them all over.
“Look at this one,” he said, shimmying his shirt down his shoulders and turning around. A large bunch of roses covered the back, full of bright red thorns. The sharp stems braided into the lower back and disappeared past his beltline.
“Quite the display.” I traced over the shoulders. “How long did it take?”
“For all of them? A collection of years. One in every place I visited.” He shrugged the shirt back on.
He was quite tall, only a little bit more than I, and lean with a tapered torso. Unlike some others, Sidney wasn’t too muscled, but enough to know he was probably quick and agile.
“What did you do before?” I watched him button the shirt halfway. “If you don’t mind.”
“Sailor.” He grinned. “I had a record, so the docks were the only place I could find fair pay.”
“And you’re from—”
“éire.” It sounded so nice with his brogue. “Or I-re-land as you lot call it.” His overenunciated queen’s English of the name at least made me smile.
“I wanted to say thank you,” I said, clasping my hands behind my back, “for the other day.”
He waved his hand dismissively and tipped his head toward the door. “Happy to see you look much stronger today.” He held the door for me as we began our walk.
The kitchen was preparing for the many nights of hosting. There was a new smell every time I left a room. It certainly made me miss my full palate, but even with limited flavors they always made it worth eating. I should be so lucky with my condition.
The parlor had been rearranged with larger tables for routine breakfast service.
The lounge furniture was moved along the perimeter and cafe sets dotted the majority of the room.
The hallway had a couple extra sofas by the windows as we passed.
The decorative weapons on the wall had since been replaced with more portraits of horses; my most logical guess was liabilities.
The door to the master bedroom was already open.
As we approached, a member of the staff waltzed through the door with a red dress over his arm like a matador.
Much like a bull, the color pulled my eye.
But with Sidney’s guiding hand on my back, I was sucked into the room instead of going where the eye traveled.
Red—everywhere.
Fabrics, skirts, dresses, shoes, ties, and handkerchiefs. It was like I was back in the dress shop, except it was more than dresses.
Silas was conversing with two other men; one had a long measuring tape draped over his neck, the other a pincushion tied around the wrist. Both looked quite suave, similar in style to what Silas favored for his own wardrobe.
His eye caught me in his peripheral vision. At first it was cold, a dash of annoyance from instructing far too many people in so little time.
But then he took a second look and realized that it was me.
He didn’t even explain to the tailors as he abandoned the conversation with no hesitation.
“There you are.” He smiled, cupping my face with both hands and kissing the top of my head. “I know Phoebe fashioned you with day clothes, but I don’t think she remembered evening wear.”
“I thought representatives were due to arrive tomorrow evening?” I took a grand look at the state of his room. “It’s a bit late to be making anything.”
The chairs were draped with several fabrics, all different weaves and textures. On the bed were accessories neatly displayed to be matched. Two mannequins were propped in the middle of the room with a standing block beside them. A full mirror was placed in front of the block for viewing.
Silas laughed as if I’d said something truly amusing, waving me forward.
By the lack of signature panic that usually overcomes the man, I had a feeling he wasn’t aware of my medical emergency. I suppose Luka didn’t tell him yet.
I glanced at Sidney, his position firmly planted by the door.
“Sidney is your shadow for the duration of the visit.” Silas pointed at Sidney without looking. “He is forbidden to leave your side for any reason other than my say-so.”
“Outsourcing your stalking?” I teased.
“As much as I would love to watch you for all hours of the day, my attention will be split.” He did a light shove on my chest, knocking me down into a parlor chair.
“What about if I were to take a nap?” I suggested. “Should he watch me sleep?”
“Yes.” Silas threw a dress my way. “Please undress, we need an idea of your sizing in”—he paused to check his watch—“twenty minutes if we want to cut fabric by the end of the hour.”
“What if I am undressing?” I glanced over my shoulder at Sidney, who shook his head at me.
“Sidney, turn around.” Silas snapped his fingers at him.
Sidney did as he was told, facing himself toward the door.
I reached behind to undo my bodice, then the skirt, kicking it awkwardly.
“You’re moving too slow,” he mumbled, nearly buzzing around me to take the dress, opening it, and gesturing upward.
I lifted my arms straight. The lightheadedness not as terrible as before.
He tugged the dress over my head, spinning me by my hips to clasp the back. It was a long, simple dress with gatherings across the neckline that continued off the shoulder. In the middle was an oval brooch of gold and what looked possibly like garnet.
“What if I am to bathe?” I hummed, staring up at the wall as Silas dressed me.
“What of it?”
I gestured to Sidney.
“You may instruct him to be outside your door, but no farther than a single step past the door.” Silas walked away to gather shoes.
I lowered back down into the chair, crossing one leg over the other as I watched.
He glanced at me once, then returned for a longer stare.
I quirked my brow, which earned me a smirk.
Gesturing with the tip of my head, I reminded him of my personal bodyguard still being present.
“You need a set.” He went to the side drawer of the bedside table, grabbing a red velvet box.
“Need?” I mumbled.
“You’d be practically naked without.”
“I could simply go in the nude.”
He opened the box, pulling out a string of fine pearls.
I glanced from the glistening pearls to him as he approached.
He draped it over my head for it to rest loose on my neck.
But he wasn’t finished.
He went to his desk, another drawer holding smaller boxes. He tossed them all in my lap. When I opened them, there were pearl earrings, bracelets, a hair pin. He went to the ottoman at the end of the bed, opening it for three more boxes, then leaned back down to pile on two more.
“What is all of this?” I looked at him in abject horror, either from fear of the cost or the possibility it was all strung from more personal material again.
“Yours” is all he said, pulling out a larger string of pearls as he stepped behind me, layering another set as the gems clattered against one another.
“What if I refuse?”