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The alchemist nods and takes a moment before he speaks again. “This is terrible news indeed. What do you think happened? And are you certain?”
“I’m certain.” I pull out the fake rose I had grabbed before leaving, and the smaller man studies it with an expression that is far too careful and not nearly surprised enough. “Let’s go to your study, and we can discuss this and the potential for a cure without the original.” I don’t care at all what we talk about, but I want to know what else he is hiding.
What else have I been too blindly trusting to see?
Dvain’s gaze hardens before he looks back at his house.
“You’ll have to forgive me. As I said, I wasn’t expecting company. My manor is quite unfit for guests at the moment, My King.”
I push past him anyway.
“We don’t mind the mess, do we, Gunnar?” I ask, making my way up the black steps to his door.
“Not at all,” my man says, stepping behind me. Whether he suspects what I am up to or merely follows my lead regardless, I will never take his unconditional loyalty for granted.
I don’t miss the panic in the ambassador’s eyes this time, nor in the way he hastily darts in front of us to reach the door first.
As soon as we cross the threshold, Dvain’s shoulders sag a little in relief. He moves to the middle of the room, scooping up a few items strewn about.
“Apologies again, my boy. As I said, I hadn’t expected anyone.”
“Not at all.” I examine a few books on his worktable.
“If you’ll give me the imposter flower, I can look it over, write to you with my findings. I will need a few days to think on the cure aspect.”
He is trying again to get rid of me.
“Of course.” I keep my tone light. “You knew her Aunt, correct?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t seem surprised by the change in subject, his expression turning into an automatic semblance of grief. “I wrote the Lady Delmara often. I know she will be devastated to hear about Zaina.”
My hand stills on the page about rare tonics and the even rarer ingredients needed for them, pausing on the circledScale of Dragon. There’s something wrong with the way he says her name so familiarly, like a sick sort of caress.
I think about how Zaina had practically thrown information at me this morning, when every other conversation had been like pulling teeth. And why would she do that unless...unless she wanted to distract me, to make me feel like I had enough information.
She wanted to make sure I didn’t ask follow-up questions she had no desire to answer.
Pieces begin to click into place, like a twisted puzzle I never wanted to solve.
Zaina, refusing to even shake his hand, when she had let Odger fondle her wrist for the sake of decorum. Khijhana hissing at the alchemist.
“Sorry for my cat. She’s not too fond of strangers.”
Except that the chalyx had stood in the middle of the Festival without so much as baring her teeth at a single person.
Zaina, talking about her “aunt” selling her virginity to the highest bidder nearly a decade ago.
Nine years ago, she bought his loyalty.
But what could Ulla possibly offer an alchemist with more gold than he knew what to do with that would entice him to risk his life with treason?
I picture the shallow scars crisscrossing Zaina’s abdomen, and it takes everything I have to keep my hands from shaking with fury, to keep them from pulling the axe at my back and driving it into his worthless skull. To remember that I will destroy everything I want to accomplish if I let on that I know he’s betrayed me now, when the only one who could possibly have imparted that information is my wife who is supposed to be dead.
To remember that I shouldn’t care nearly so much about the woman who has nearly brought me to ruin for a second time in my relatively short reign.
“I was hoping you would deliver the news yourself. Break it to her family gently,” I say, moving my clenched fists behind my back.
“I was just thinking I would do that very thing,” he agreed.
