I sit up a little straighter, earning another sharp jab of pain radiating through my skull. A blanket I hadn’t noticed I was covered in slips from my shoulders. Glancing down, I find myself dressed in a fresh blouse and skirt.
But…that’s not what I was wearing last night.
My eyes fly back to Torben’s. This time my cheeks flush for a different reason. “Huntsman, did you undress me while I was sleeping?”
He stiffens, and his expression turns indignant. “Of course I didn’t. You did that just fine on your own.”
I tilt my head back. “I don’t remember…”
Another flash of memories surges through my mind, these ones hazier than the others.
Our bedroom in Department Lust.
Me swaying on my feet.
Torben handing me a pile of fresh clothing.
Me giggling and dropping the clothes to the ground.
Him averting his gaze just as I pull my shirt over my head.
Wait until I’m out of the damn room, Astrid!
My hand flies to my mouth. I’d give anything to shrink into a speck of dirt right now. The shirt I’d worn to the duel was not meant to be paired with a corset. It was thick, form fitting, and able to bind my breasts on its own. But I…I took it off…in front of Torben.
I shift to the side so I’m facing as far away from the Huntsman as I can, pretending to take a keen interest in the floral pattern on the seat beneath me. My fingers automatically reach for my chest, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the firm stays of my corset beneath the cotton blouse I wear. At least I managed to fully dress on my own.
I clear my throat and try to make my voice sound casual. “I don’t remember anything from last night.” Lies. I remember too much. “So please tell me why we’re heading to the Spring Court.”
Torben shifts slightly forward in his seat, but I refuse to meet his eyes. “We’re going to prove your innocence.”
20
TORBEN
Astrid’s face whirls toward mine. “You mean it? You finally believe I’m innocent?”
I give her a reluctant nod. “I heard what Marybeth said to you in the ring. She may not have outright confessed, but it’s clear she poisoned the pie that killed your father while she was under the influence of illegal compulsion.”
Her lips pull into a smile, but she averts her gaze as if remembering she’s supposed to be embarrassed in front of me right now. It’s obvious she remembers more about her behavior from last night than she’s letting on. As if on cue, her scent constricts. “Then why are we going to Spring?” she says, looking anywhere but at me. “Shouldn’t we head straight for the Alpha Council’s headquarters? Are the headquarters in Spring?”
The headquarters are in Spring, at the very center of the isle just north of the border of the Wind Court. But I’m not going to tell her that. “We aren’t ready to take our case to the Alpha Council. Marybeth confessed to having given her name to a female in the Spring Court, but she never said to whom she gave it.”
Astrid’s brows knit together. She discards her previous embarrassment and faces me full on. “It was my stepmother. There’s no doubt about it now.”
“On the contrary, plenty of doubt remains. We need tangible proof.”
“What other proof do you need? My lady’s maid, a girl employed by my stepmother, murdered my—” Her scent profile shifts, the lemons turning bitter, the morning dew shifting into something murky like a bottomless swamp. Her breaths grow sharp as she reaches a hand into her skirt pocket. She doesn’t act surprised at finding the pocket empty, which means she must remember her vial broke. That doesn’t stop her from checking the other pocket. Her eyes glaze with a sudden sheen of tears. “Damn it!”
I lean forward and prop my elbows on my knees. “Astrid,” I say, tone firm, “you’re going to be all right.”
“You don’t know anything,” she bites back, her voice edged with hysteria. Her scent twists again, flaring then contracting, over and over. It’s a wild and chaotic medley, one I don’t think she has any control over right now. It’s the same scent she had last night when she was high on poison. She certainly had no control then.
Even though I could smell she was lying when she said she remembered nothing from the night before, I doubt she recalls it all. Based on how embarrassed she was after we discussed the clothing incident, I wouldn’t be surprised if the full truth of last night’s events prompted her to climb out the window of our moving train and throw herself upon the mercy of the dunes.
I, on the other hand, remember it all.
“You can’t even see me,” she said when I tried to leave the room while she was changing. “My magic won’t let you. I could prance naked in a circle around you and all you’d see is your reflection.”
