The question nearly makes me stumble. I pause. “Astrid…”
“I know, I know,” she says. “Our future is uncertain. Yours. Mine. All of it. But let’s just pretend. If you were freed from your term as Huntsman, what would you do?”
Part of me doesn’t want to play her game, for the hope such meanderings bring is almost painful. But the smile on her face, the brightness of her scent…I’ve learned my lesson about trying to deny her anything.
I release a resigned sigh and push aside a few stray branches of a large shrub, allowing Astrid to enter the narrow trail I’ve managed to carve over the last few days. “If I were freed, I’d find work. Work that pays in chips or rounds, not years marked off a sentence like my current occupation offers. I’d work as hard as I could to buy back Davenport Estate.”
“You’ve given up on getting the Chariot back?”
“No,” I say. “I still intend to find Marybeth and get my Chariot back from her. Even so, whether I’m awarded ownership of my estate right away or am made to work for it, that is what I’ll do. As soon as the estate is mine again, I’ll start by working the land, even if I must tend every acre alone and by hand, until the farms are operational once more. Only then will I invest in the manor itself and bring on staff. I will build back everything my father left for me, bit by bit.”
We reach the end of the trail that lets out onto the tangled lawn behind the manor. She glances at me, brow furrowed. “Is that really what you want? Not just to honor your father’s memory?”
I ponder the question before I answer, seeking truth. “It is,” I say, feeling a calm conviction fill me at the words. “Even if it weren’t for the guilt I feel over my reckless actions, I’ve always loved the estate. The farms. The berries more than anything. The pride of growing something that brings joy to others. It was thanks to my sense of smell that we even chose our most popular berry varieties. I’d like to put my talents to work like that in the future. No more hunting down fugitives. More sniffing out the next most delectable fruit that will grow into something that makes others happy.”
Her lips curl into a soft smile.
We round the manor toward the front door—still the only entrance I’ve unlocked. “What about you?” I ask. “What do you want once you’re proven innocent?”
She slows her pace, eyes unfocused. Her words come out slow, uncertain. “I…I don’t know. I’ve been so preoccupied with hiding and surviving my stepmother’s wrath that I haven’t given it much thought. I suppose I’ll want to find a fulfilling way to use my magic. Something that feels true to who I am—like you and the berries. I’ve always loved when my magic was put to use. First with my father when I aided his paintings by using my magic on his clients so that he could paint their best qualities. Then at Department Lust when I played matchmaker. I don’t know what I’d do next, but…I’d want to do something. Now that I can control my magic, I’d get to do that something asme.”
I stop in place and tug her hand until she faces me. “You’re going to be able to do that. I will prove your innocence if it’s the last thing I do.”
Astrid pales. “I don’t want it to be the last thing you do. I want it to be the first of many, many more things that both of us do.”
I bring my hand to her cheek. “So do I,” I whisper, keeping the rest unspoken. That we might not have a choice. That only one of us might survive what happens next.
She lowers her eyes, and her scent dips, her expression suddenly hesitant. Shy. “Torben, do you think…I mean, would you be willing…”
“What?”
“If everything works the way we want it to, would you be willing to let me do mysomething…with you?”
I bring my finger beneath her chin and tilt her face until her eyes lock back on mine. “That goes without saying, Astrid. If I have my way, I want you by my side. And I want to be by your side, growing together. Learning more about one another. About ourselves.”
She smiles, and the sight of it makes my chest feel pleasurably warm. “I want that too.”
I lean in to kiss her, but as our lips meet, mine turn stiff. Every hair on my body stands on end.
That’s when I smell something I should have noticed minutes ago. I would have, were I not so besotted with Astrid’s aroma. So attuned to it.
She pulls back from me, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
A growl rumbles deep in my chest as I gently push Astrid behind me and angle myself toward the figure that stands on the walkway leading to the manor.
I try to keep Astrid safely hidden, but she peeks around my arm. She breathes a gasp. “Marybeth.”
36
ASTRID
My pulse quickens at the sight of my lady’s maid. My former friend. She’s dressed in the same skirt and blouse she wore in the fighting pit at Department Wrath, and the additional stains she’s accumulated tell me she hasn’t washed or changed. The dark circles under her eyes suggest she hasn’t slept much either. She shifts anxiously from foot to foot, one hand clamped around the silver disc that is the Chariot, the other curled into a fist at her side.
I don’t know how to feel at the sight of her, whether pity, rage, or fear is more appropriate. According to Danielle, Marybeth took the position as my maid with the intent to ruin me. To help her cousin get revenge all because she believed the rotten things Danielle said about me. Danielle did say Marybeth ended up changing her mind, but she ended up working against me anyway. How? Why? Marybeth’s hands delivered the poison that killed my father. But who directed those hands?
Calm determination settles over me. This is our chance to get answers. To solve the case that could set me and Torben free.
He must have the same thoughts as I do, for he reaches into his waistcoat and slowly extracts the handcuffs. “What are you doing here, Miss Harding?” he asks, voice level.
