I crushed another walnut with enough force that it earned a startled jump from the viscount. He whooped with laughter, snatching the walnut meat and popping it into his mouth.
“How remarkable!” he said mid-chew. “Not a fortnight ago you were positively undone at the sight of your slain assailant, and here you sit, having poisoned a man before the entire court, the queen herself in attendance.”
I flinched at the words, hoping no one overheard them. Lord Quinn paused, then turned his head with such speed that his hair whipped him on the cheek. He pushed back the offending strands, the gesture revealing a glimpse of collarbone where his shirt had loosened.
“Did Nic ask you to do it?”
I bit my lip, letting the question simmer. The viscount looked at me half-expectantly, but was ultimately disappointed. He sighed again with frustration.
“I am well aware of your capacity for speech; what confounds me is your particular refusal to engage in conversation withme. Do I truly inspire such dread?”
No. It wasn’t dread, not anymore. In spite of the horrendous first impression he’d made, I had developed something of an understanding for him through our proximity. He was competent and perceptive as any guard should wish to be, his knack for reading others bordering on uncanny at times, but he wasn’t a guard. He was a nobleman, and that made his abilities all the more intriguing.
I wished I could give him an appropriate response beyond a fervent shake of the head. It would have to do, for now; nonetheless, Lord Quinn didn’t seem too offended. He straightened his posture and hummed thoughtfully.
“You know, I’m not sure if I prefer your preservation as the innocent woodland girl we first encountered, or if your adaptation to these surroundings better serves you.”
As an ‘innocent woodland girl’, he’d threatened to leave me to the wolves. I knew whatIpreferred.
“If His Highness has truly demanded Percy’s suffering by your hand, then such is the course of things; however, should you find yourself in a similar position in the future, I strongly advise you to employ me as your confidant.”
I blinked twice, taken aback by the suggestion. The viscount grew distant as he plotted this potential, grim and uncharacteristically serious. The man who could take a life without hesitation reappeared. Somehow that edge, which should have alarmed me, only made him more fascinating.
“I have a knack for discretion,” he explained. “I could ensure that your actions remain…inconspicuous. After all, I wouldn’t want my dearest friend’s beloved to find herself on the executioner’s block. You wouldn’t be as lovely without your head.”
After a pause, Lord Quinn’s lips tugged into a reserved grin.
“A-ha! The compendium in the library—a fascinating choice. You needed information without being indiscreet, and with your background as the apothecaries’ daughter…” he clarified, cluing me in on his thoughts with a wink. His smile reached his eyes. “Well, aren’t you a clever thing?”
I rubbed my shoulder, unused to being the subject of this sort of praise. Without hearing a word, the viscount knew and understood what I had done, and then he’d actuallycommendedme for it.
My arm tensed, aching still from its previous dislocation. The pain came and went these days, no longer a persistent dull ache but an occasional throb.
Lord Quinn frowned as he watched me, then stood up and offered his palm. The motion startled Robert into taking flight, but not without one last look my way. He’d be back. “Come, my lady. The sun’s setting.”
I nodded and took his hand. We walked closely through the maze, its route already well-memorized, and returned to the castle.
Just outside of my room, Lord Quinn asked me to wait, then went into the adjacent chambers. I peeked in with curiosity and was startled to find that the viscount had been living next door to me. I knew he’d been relocated to the same wing, but in such closequarters…well, it was a good thing I never raised my voice, lest Iensnare him with my curse.
Equally surprising was his taste in décor. Everything was vibrant and saturated compared to the rest of the castle’s palette, with warm, sun-drenched colors in both his furnishings and artwork. Rather than keeping multiple tapestries, the viscount’s walls were painted with a rich terracotta that made the whole room feel like a sunny summer’s day, complimented by dark olivewood finishes. Decorative oil lamps hung from the ceiling while the floor was adorned by colorful pottery and fascinating glassware, the walls between them covered with a number of curiosities. A familiar smell wafted from within, like spice and some kind of citrus, plus leather and wood. It was an inviting scent, not so cold and austere as my own chambers.
Lord Quinn returned with a vial. Catching me in the act of prying into his hidden life, he quickly shut the door. He shifted his weight, then recovered, his expression settling into sheepish amusement.
“Hadria follows me wherever I go,” he explained, gesturing vaguely toward the now-closed door. “His Highness tolerates my peculiarities.”
He offered his gift. I blinked away the afterimage of his quarters, then examined glass with puzzlement. It was sealed with wax pressed in the image of a lynx, filled with an amber-colored liquid.
“For your shoulder,” he said. “Have one of your handmaidens apply it before bed.”
Popping off the seal, I sniffed the contents. It was a complex potion with few recognizable notes, but breathing it in was like inhaling a blizzard and exhaling pure heat. I put a drop onto my wrist and smoothed it in, startled as it changed the temperature of my skin from cold to hot.
“And worry not:myremedy won’t give you the shits,” the viscount quietly teased, gesturing with his head for me to move along to my room.
I couldn’t help the quirk of my lips at his crude joke. How easily he slipped from formalities into vulgarities, as if two men inhabited the same body. Perhaps that was more telling than anything—he was a man caught in the line between two worlds, never quite belonging to either. On that, I could relate.
I mouthed my thanks, but somehow, it was too little a gesture for such a kind gift. I hesitated, then reached out and touched his wrist with a smile.
Something in the viscount’s expression shifted. He cleared his throat, bashfully scratching the back of his head.
