Remarks of weakly-concealed amusement, disgust, and of horror murmured across the hall, but the head of the table was silent. I peeked through one eye toward the prince as he exchanged looks with Lord Quinn, both of them conversing in that silent language they occasionally shared.
“How awful,” Winnie remarked quietly, a hand resting atop my head. She stared at the soiled floors with grim relief, shaking her head as new servants came rushing in with buckets and mops. “I’ve never been more grateful to be a lady again.”
“Let us all say a prayer for my dear nephew,” Queen Adelaide spoke up, halting those who had prepared to leave without proper excuse. They turned, eyeing the mess, and joined her in respectful gesture. “And perhaps those of us whosmiledin the face of his misfortunes should pray for themselves, as well.”
Across the table, Angharad sat in gaping disbelief. The marchioness set her tea aside with care, fingers lingering on the handle. Shecaught my eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod, as if acknowledging a fellow player in a game she hadn’t realized I was playing. Then, composing herself, she joined the others in prayer with inscrutable piety, though her eyes remained open and watchful.
I slowly craned my head to the prince as the rest of the room bowed in prayer. His expression was blank and unknowable, save for the smallest of smiles that tugged at the corners of his lips.
Chapter 11
I sat inthe center of the maze, a dozen smashed walnut shells scattered about my feet. It was one of the only places I could be somewhat alone, though of course the viscount was never far behind.
I took another walnut and crushed it between the bench and a stone, finding brief satisfaction in the sharp crack. My thoughts were elsewhere—since the poisoning, I couldn’t remove Percy from my mind. The man had suffered several agonizing days in his bed, but with a few words slipped to the right people, and my own unpleasant share of symptoms, the whole of the castle believed we’d come down with the sickness that plagued the Arbordeens. Because of that, most courtiers had quarantined themselves, and all court meals were suspended until further notice.
I’d endured days of low fevers and being unable to keep anything down, but today I was restored. The prince hadn’t come for a visit in all that time. I was glad to be away from his wolfish stare, but the longer we were apart, the deeper my anxiety grew for when we did meet again. I swallowed a lump in my throat, then smashed another walnut.
A black shadow soared overhead, then settled as its owner landed by the water. Turning around, a crow cocked its head at me, then hopped over.
“Robert?” I whispered.
The corvid cawed back. I laughed quietly and offered him the walnut meats that had steadily accumulated. He took them without hesitation, jumping up and eating right beside me.
Lord Quinn rounded a hedge as he entered the maze’s center. One look at Robert, and his expression quickly soured. He rushed over with both arms raised.
“Shoo!” He swatted. “Away with you, vile creature!”
I scowled and came between him and the crow, protective instincts flaring as I put up a hand to stop him. I didn’t have my wax tablet—it required a heat source to reset, and as the weather outside grew colder, it was more cumbersome than useful. Instead, I could only communicate in gestures, often wishing I, too, could read thoughts the way he and the prince did with one another.
I turned around and pulled a golden pin from my hair, offering it to Robert. He took it and set it down for inspection, evidently pleased with the shiny thing.
“Are you a witch?” Lord Quinn asked bluntly.
All I could do was scoff and roll my eyes, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t beginning to feel like one. I leaned back, watching Robert take the pin over to the fountain to test its buoyancy in the water.
The viscount narrowed his eyes at the bird. He came nearer and pointed to the unoccupied side of the bench. “You seem to be feeling much better today. May I join you?”
I shrugged, my posture tense with lingering resentment.
With a sigh, Lord Quinn sat. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his long legs out before him, the movement drawing attention to the lean muscles evident through his fitted breeches. He didn’t say anything for a while, using the heel of his boot to compress the discarded shells at our feet.
“I observed your act of hospitality toward Lord Percy.”
My eyes snapped up to meet his. I remained cold, unintimidated by him; it didn’t matter that he was aware. Prince Nicolas decreed my actions, and I’d followed orders. There was nothing the viscount could say or do that I would not deserve, but there was also little he could get away with without invoking the prince’s wrath.
“The poor man has been quite unwell these past several days,” Lord Quinn said, leaning his head back. “Should another draw the same conclusion as me, it would not bode well for you. Best to hope the affliction takes him fully.”
Even if I could speak, I wasn’t sure how I’d respond to that. My thumbs swirled around one another, betraying the anxiety his words stirred within me.
“Worry not. Most people have no reason to suspect foul play from you, and foryouto fall ill as well was a clever bit of planning.”
Lord Quinn’s severe demeanor shifted with mischievous intrigue.
“What manner of poison did you employ, I wonder?”
My look of consternation sufficed for a reply. The viscount smirked, softening the angles of his face.
“Forgive me, I’d forgotten yourselective muteness. Perhaps you might pantomime it? I fancy myself rather adept at such games.”
