Page 37 of The Duchess Curse

“Are you suggesting,” Bran said, “that your connection to iron grants you, also, a celestial connection to light?” Sounded as far-fetched as a curse.

“No idea. There are no answers. If Diana’s theory were true, it would mean that transcendents could see through glamours, since their talents focus entirely on light. But they cannot. As far as I know.”

“If you were to make an attempt to banish a glamour⁠—”

“And I never have.”

“—what would you do?”

“Take a hammer to it,” Apollo offered. “My brother-in-law lacks finesse.”

“Finesse?” Bran tilted his head. “Like killing a man?”

“I really would like to know what that conversation is all about,” Grant said, and when no one offered to elucidate, he added, “If I had to put an entirely ill-informed supposition into the air, I might…” He rolled his hand at the wrist, as if it could pull ideas from his brain. “Take away the glamour’s light source.”

“Done that,” Bran said.

“Really done that,” Apollo added.

“It’s heat source?” Grant asked.

“Oh, there’s an idea.” Apollo sat upright. “Let’s plunge him into a tub filled with ice.

“And kill me again?”

Apollo shrugged. “Worked last time.”

“Not entirely.”

“I think, perhaps, you have to wait,” Grant said. “If whatever you did yesterday has begun to work, be patient. Let it finish whatever it’s doing. It could be like the coals of a fire. From the outside, all you see are black, dusty rocks, but break them open, and they’re glowing embers, eating away at themselves from the inside.”

“Lovely image,” Bran muttered. He rounded his desk and flopped into his chair, spearing Grant with a gaze he hoped showed through whatever bits of the glamour were left about his face. “You cannot tell your wife. About me.”

“I tell my wife everything.”

“Think of it as an order direct from the queen. She’s commanded me to protect Guin, and I cannot do that if Guin kills me. Do you understand?”

Grant’s hard jaw suggested he did and didn’t like it. But he nodded and made for the door. “Bloody royalty always mucking about in everyone’s lives.” He swung around before leaving. “What are you going to do? When she’s safe and your glamour is under control? Are you going to keep lying to her?”

Yes, but also… “No. I’m going to kill off Braxton. Let some other poor fellow take the title. Or let it go fallow. I just want to be myself.” And if Guin were free from a husband, she could take a lover without feeling guilty. She could choose Bran, and Bran could find a way to give in that wouldn’t give him away.

Apollo stood. “You killed off her bodyguard, and now you’ll kill off her husband, but neither of them will be dead?”

“I’ll return as Bran and take back my position with her.” She’d be happier to have Bran back than she would be to see her husband go. He wouldn’t be able to kiss her, but… perhaps if he waited long enough, she’d not be able to tell that she’d kissed Bran’s lips before.

“Sounds complicated,” Grant grumbled. “And if my wife ever asks me outright⁠—”

“I cannot believe you brought him here,” Bran said to Apollo. “He’s going to ruin everything.”

“I know. He’s a saint. It’s sickening. I’ll get rid of him.” Apollo pushed Grant out the door.

Grant said from the hallway, “I’ll keep my mouth shut. For now.”

That was something.

Apollo slapped the doorframe twice then sauntered off.

Bran got up and locked the door again, pulled the curtains closed, and stood before the mirror in the dark.