Page 110 of The Duchess Curse

Bran slumped against the door jam. “She’s gone off to figure out the curse, and she doesn’t want me following. But I have to. I thought she might have come to you, for passage on a ship. Or to the docks in general.”

Ndege shook her head. “She is a strong woman, Bran. She can protect herself.”

“I know. But I have to⁠—”

“I know.” Kikulwe slipped into the night beside Bran. “I’ll help you search.

Together, he and Bran visited every shipping house, asking if anyone had sold passage to a woman bearing Guin’s description. They had not. But that meant nothing. She could have changed her appearance any number of ways or exchanged coins for silence.

By the time they’d arrive back at Biira Shipping, Bran was bone-tired. He rubbed his hands down his face.

“Come inside,” Kikulwe offered. “Have a drink, rest. You’re favoring your shoulder.”

“I was injured recently.” And it was bleeding again. “Thank you for the help. I have other places to check tonight.” And it felt like if he didn’t find her soon, he never would.

A curtain in a second-floor window parted and Ndege looked down on them.

“Are you ever scared for her?” Bran asked. “When she’s sailing?”

“Every heartbeat.” Kikulwe gave a grim laugh. “It is a wound between us at times. I do not dare ask for children because she grows even more restless when I do. And when I try to keep her on land, she grows unhappy. I cannot stand to see her unhappy. So she sails. And I calculate trade rates and taxes and inventory and wait for her to return. And when she does, it is with a smile and eager arms.”

“You think I should let Guin go. Wait for her to return?”

“I think nothing about other men’s women, my friend.” He clapped Bran’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

Bran waited outside the shipping office until he saw Kikulwe join his wife at the upper window. Ndege’s arms were eager, and the curtain fell, leaving Bran in a night so dark there were no shadows.

He rode to Soho, but Mrs. Ariti had not seen Guin, either. He didn’t find Guin at Apollo’s shop, either, or at her old flat. He checked the shop, but it was as empty as he’d left it the night of the attack. Where next? Where next?

Would she really disobey the queen?

He looked up at the sky. Not that he could see a damn bit of it. The low clouds that had promised snow for weeks now had finally burst, and white flakes wafted down from the heavens. They landed cold and sharp on his cheeks, and he couldn’t call up his heat to keep himself warm.

The last thing he wanted to do was die, though. It would prove her right. She expected him to die.

So he wouldn’t.

He headed back to Mayfair and trotted into Grosvenor Square right as a carriage entered from the other side. It stopped in front of his house as he swung to the ground, and a groom took his horse.

Temple stepped out of the carriage first, then he helped his wife down. He spotted Bran immediately. “Ah. You’re here. Good.”

“We have a message for you,” Diana said.

Bran met them in front of the door. “What is it? Who from?”

“You look terrible,” Temple said.

“I was shot.”

They gasped.

“But Guin said nothing when I saw her earlier,” Diana said.

For a moment, Bran’s ears buzzed, and through it he heard himself saying, “You saw her?”

“Yes, several hours ago. She was asking the same questions you were asking—about her family’s history. The message is from her.” Diana looked up and down the street. “Perhaps we should go inside.”

He led them to a small parlor and shut the door. “Did Guin tell you where she was going?”