AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Did she teach you alchemy?” he asks.
I don’t answer right away, because for all the wretched memories I have of Madame, his question brings back a different sort.
I carefully muddle the leaves of the plant the way Mother taught me, then pour the rest of my concoction over it. This is supposed to be an advanced tonic, but she says that I have a knack for it. It bubbles before settling down, and I risk a glance at her impassive face.
“Did it work?” I ask.
“Let’s find out.” The words are a challenge, but the corner of her mouth lifts.
I take a small, cautious sip, the overly sweet liquid fizzing in my mouth, then wait. Minutes later, my skin starts to morph to a deep onyx. Mother rarely smiles, but she beams now.
“You truly are a wonder, Zaina.”
Pride surges through me. Distantly, I register how wrong it is. She isn’t really my mother. She’s cruel on the days I don’t get it right. Still...I can’t help but let myself enjoy this one, small moment of triumph with her.
I wrench myself back to the present.
“She taught me some when I was younger, but she stopped later.” When I tried to run. When she realized I might just use what she taught me against her one day. “Still, at the very least, I know a little bit about how she thinks.” As much as anyone can understand a psychopath.
“All right,” he agrees, and though he is only a few feet away, he somehow seems even farther than before. “I’m on the cusp of losing everything as it is. How much damage could you possibly do at this point?”
With that, he rolls over, putting his back to me and effectively shutting me out.
There is a defeated set to his shoulders that sends a pang through me. Even though I know he’s back to hating me, there is a part of me that wants to reach out to him, to comfort him the way he once comforted me.
Instead, I clench my fists and pull my hand back to my chest. It’s dangerous for either of us to forget who we are to one another.
Not that there is much risk of that on his part. I can hardly blame him when I abandoned him, betrayed him. Even if I made the best decision I could at the time. Even if I did it to keep him safe.
It doesn’t change what was done.
I wonder if he will ever find a way to live with it. If I will.
Or will I simply waste away riding the carousel of his emotions while regret and bitterness consume us both?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Einar
It’s well after noon when I wake up. After the very limited sleep I had, I can’t deny that I’m grateful no emergencies pulled me from my bed this morning. I call out for Gunnar and Helga to send for a hefty lunch and go to my private study to collect Ulla’s letter, along with my own notes and a stack of books ranging from botany to alchemy.
Zaina doesn’t even blink at the enormity of the task before her. As soon as everything is on the desk in my chamber, she makes her way over and digs right in, starting with the letter.
I watch her carefully while she reads it, the way the blood leaves her face despite her carefully blank features. The flash of rage in her eyes, offsetting the fear she is fighting to hide.
She ignores my scrutiny, setting the letter aside and scanning my notes instead, my careful lists of every attempted antidote and the result. I leave her then, entirely unable to stomach the sight of her doing something as ordinary as reading over paperwork. Wearing nothing but my shirt for covering, no less.
It’s too close to what we might have had in a real marriage, what I thought we were going to have for one fleeting night.
I don’t worry about the risks of her seeing any of this information. Truthfully, with two petals left, I have little to lose. She may not even have a suggestion, and if she does, I’m under no obligation to follow it.
All of those reasons make far more sense than the tiny, irrational part of me that insists she might actually want to help.
Once lunch has arrived, I take my portion and head back up to my study to think while Zaina quietly eats and continues reading in the bedroom.
The note that the stablegirl gave me with the rose still sits on my desk. Zaina says she wrote it, says she never outright lies, but I would be a fool to take her at her word.
I examine the lettering, not for the first time. The handwriting isn’t merely unfamiliar, it’s a bit different from the usual calligraphy ladies of the court learn, but far fancier than the handwriting of a commoner.
