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His voice is unmistakable. A pleasant sensation frissons over my scalp, down my neck and across my shoulders. I close my eyes and sway gently on my feet, allowing myself to be anchored by his warm hands.
I can’t believe this.
“Sit down, Finley. Take your time.”
I blink. My heart is beating too fast. He’s right, though. I do need to sit down.
I shrug out of his grasp and move backwards, finding a spot at the very end of the couch, as far away from him as possible. I place my hand on the wooden armrest and take a moment to steady myself.
He takes several steps back and leans against the thick stone wall.
Themyrnimscent… it’s coming from him.
It reminds me of growing up; of being a teenager, hanging around father’s soldiers and horses, fascinated by their training and their weapons and their easy camaraderie.
Where there’s fighting men, there’smyrnim.
Does he smoke it too?
The Crown Prince of Rahava?
It’s really him, isn’t it?
He gives me an appraising look, his expression unreadable.
The physician, Vinciel, stands against a desk with his arms folded, regarding the demon warily—the way a small, cautious predator might look at a much larger one.
The demon gives the physician a tiny nod, as if granting him permission to speak. Even when he’s like this—casually dressed and reserved in demeanor—he gives off an air of effortless authority.
“You’ve awakened, Finley.” Vinciel keeps his distance. On the table beside him is an empty glass of wine, tinted red with the remnants of his drink. “You’re probably wondering why you’re here in my chambers, of all places. Well,Idon’t intend to keep you in the dark.” He shoots the demon a pointed look. “I’m sure you would have come to understand thathehas some rather ah,uniqueneeds.”
“I’ve realized that, but I don’t understand anything.”
“You’re anaemic. That’s why you fainted. It isn’t anything serious, but you’re going to have to take it easy over the next few weeks, and you’ll have to take the medication I prescribe. Starting with this.” A glass of wine appears in his hand.
“I’ve never heard of wine being used to treat anaemia. I don’t drink wine,” I say stiffly. “I’ve never understood the appeal.”
Vinciel manages to look aghast. “It’smedicinalwine.”
His insistence feels suspicious to me. Something’s off. And I can’t string a single coherent thought together whilethatman is staring at me like that.
As I perch on the sofa, feeling slightly dazed, my attention shifting from one strange man to the other, a sudden rush of anger hits me.
My brother is terribly injured.
My father is detained in the dungeons.
I almost died myself, under the claws of a lycan.
And the man I’m supposed to marry? Well, if my suspicions are correct and this pale stranger truly is the dreaded Archduke Corvan Duthriss, then it appears my husband-to-be is a monster, and he has an uncontrollable fetish for my blood.
I steel myself. “I’m not takinganythinguntil I get an explanation.”
The physician looks askance at his master.
The demon makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Leave us, Vinciel.”
I’m almost hoping Vinciel will defy him; that he’ll put the wellbeing of his patient above his master’s whims, but Vinciel simply offers me a curt nod and departs, leaving the glass of wine on the table and disappearing through a side-door.
