“Not a sight for young women,” Lord Wilkin remarked with something like pleasure, observing her squeamishness.
“That’s enough, now,” Betje snapped, corners of her mouth tipping down. “More than enough. Doctor, you should have plenty.”
Aelbert’s eyes, bright with fascination, didn’t waver from the cup as it slowly filled. Betje took matters into her own hands and plucked Idabel’s wrist up from the table, pulling it over her head and pressing the tea towel firmly on the wound.
“Look at the color,” Aelbert murmured, tilting the cup. “Is it slightly darker than normal? I believe so. The bite has changed your blood composition. More iron, I suspect. I wonder if it would show different properties under a magnet, or if proximity to—”
“Doctor.” Lord Wilkin’s voice cracked like a whip.
“Right. The evidence.” Aelbert tipped the teacup, filling three glass vials and half of a fourth with blood. “This will be very useful.”
“What exactly will you do with it?” Betje asked, sounding tense.
Aelbert opened his mouth eagerly, but Lord Wilkin spoke first. “Whatever His Majesty might require.”
Aelbert sealed the vials with corks and candle wax, then stowed them in a fitted case like they were filled with rubies. Lord Wilkin produced a silk purse from a drawer and handed it to Idabel. It was heavier than it looked. Even if it were only filled with coppers, it would pay her guild fees and more.
“For your trouble,” he said, sounding downright cheerful. “This ought to cover any lost wages when the keepers oust you from the Tower.”
Her fingers curled around the coins, feeling them through the pretty purse. They weren’t just coppers. It held smaller silver coins as well, and at least one gold. It was a fortune. Everything she’d wished for when she’d sought out a gargoyle’s bite. But now that she had one—now that she hadBrandt—it didn’t feel right to take it. It didn’t feel right to cast him as the villain when he was her mate.
She would find another way to earn the guild fees. One that didn’t jeopardize him or his position. He would have enough trouble with a human mate.
“I changed my mind,” she said, holding the purse out. “I’m very sorry, but I don’t want to go through with it anymore.”
Aelbert goggled at her, clutching his case to his chest. “It’s too late. I’ve already bottled your blood!”
“Then I’d like to buy it back,” she said as patiently as she could, while sweat beaded on her clammy forehead. The blood loss was beginning to catch up with her.
Lord Wilkin gave her a benevolent smile that made the hair on the back of her neck rise, because there was no kindness behind it. “My dear, the business between us is finished. You should go now. Enjoy your spoils and speak no more of it. If I learn anyone has bent the ear of the Nadir to complain, you will be sorry, I am sure. I trust I do not need to elaborate on that point?”
He was the picture of politeness, but for all his courtesy it was clearly a threat. Beside her, Betje tensed. She felt it, too. Lord Lamont was powerful. He was connected. And he would use everything at his disposal to ruin them both if they disrupted his plans.
“No, my lord. We understand,” she whispered.
With Betje’s help, she stood, cloth still pressed to her arm and purse clutched in her fist. The butler showed them out. Once they’d escaped into the palace-quarter streets, Betje grabbed her elbow, tying the tea towel into a better bandage. “That man was no more the king’s physician than I’m the queen herself. He might be a scholar, but he’s not a healer. He would have bled you dry if I hadn’t stepped in. You’re bandaged with a tea towel!”
“It felt like he wanted to bottle me like a specimen.” Idabel shuddered, leaning into Betje, who wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’m glad that’s over.”
Betje’s fae marks flickered on the sides of her face. “I hope is. The fact that they took blood…it makes me worry what they’re going to do with it. Blood is a powerful element.”
“Luckily there’s little tael in mine,” Idabel said wryly. Exhaustion settled over her, whether from the loss of blood or her lack of rest. The other species might squabble over who would replace the gods, but everyone agreed it would not be the humans.
“More than you might think. It’s useful for Seeing.”
“My life isn’t worth watching. If it pleases the king, the good doctor is welcome to spy on me while I sleep or scrub the floors.”
“In the Tower,” Betje reminded her. “If they have access to your eyes, they have access to the Tower.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Why would they want to See that? I only work there when the gargoyles are in daysleep.”
Betje sucked her teeth, thinking. “To see the building’s layout? To learn the keepers’ rounds, perhaps?”
“I’ll quit, then. I won’t have the position for long, anyway.”
“A good Seer can look into your past, too,” Betje reminded her quietly. “They can See anything you’ve seen. They’ll be able to See who bit you and all that came before and after. I doubt Lord Wilkin knows any so powerful or unscrupulous, but you might want to warn—”
Idabel didn’t hear the end of her sentence because she was already running.
