My jaw clenched as I pressed my ear to the door, trying to hear more clearly, even as anger burned behind my cheeks.
“This place isn’t safe for anyone,” the second voice said, and I gasped.
Sudden silence echoed from beyond the door, and I took a step back. Then, fueled by a burst of adrenaline, I threw the door open. Both men turned to stare at me. Desmond stood at the left side of an empty lab table, jaw firmly set. The other man ran one hand through his thick silver waves before scruffing it over a neatly trimmed darker gray beard. His brown eyes found me from the other end of the table, and his patient smile triggered a bolt of irritation deep in my gut.
“Hello, Father.”
“Amber.” If Desmond was surprised to see me, he recovered quickly. “Have a seat.”
“I certainly will not,” I snapped, my hand clenching around the strap of my satchel.
My father chuckled and pulled me into a warm hug, and it took every bit of effort I possessed to resist returning the gesture. When I only stood stiffly in his embrace, he finally let me go and stepped back to study my face.
“Perhaps you can imagine the jolt of fear a father feels when he gets an official correspondence from the institute to which he’s entrusted his daughter, saying that she’s ill, and he should come for her immediately. And perhaps that will cool your temper, just for a moment?”
I rolled my eyes. “You entrusted me to the Alchemary? I’ll admit I cannot remember the circumstances, yet I find that difficult to believe.”
My father blinked, and when he glanced at Desmond, I understood that my response was confirmation of whatever he’d been told.
“I suppose I’m recalling your departure in terms that are a bit generous to my part in everything. But I was hoping, given that we haven’t seen each other in two years, that you might be in an indulgent—perhaps even a nostalgic—mood.”
I could only frown at him, wrapping my arms tighter around my torso until my angry gesture probably looked like I was giving myself a hug. “I haven’t been home in two years?”
“You’ve spent every break here at the Alchemary,” Desmond confirmed, even though I hadnotbeen speaking to him. “Studying. Working.”
“Oh!” My father turned toward the table and lifted his bag, a leather satchel he’d been carrying since I was a child. He pulled a wrapped bundle from it. “Martyn sends his love. And a currant loaf.”
At the scent, my mouth betrayed me by watering.
“He remembered how you used to forget to eat while you were studying.”
Desmond made a strange, soft sound at the back of his throat. “She still does that.”
Not thathewould know!
“What’s going on here?” I demanded, accepting the wrapped loaf but willing to bend no more.
None of this was Martyn’s fault, and if I could remember being away from him, I’d probably miss him terribly.
My father pulled a folded sheet of parchment from his bag. “I got—”
“A correspondence. So you said. But if you’ve come to take me home, why are you in Desmond Gregory’s office instead of my Dormitory chamber?”
“We were about to go find you,” Desmond said, though—again—I’d not been speaking to him.
“I’m not leaving,” I insisted, my focus still glued to my father.
“As I was just telling him,” Desmond said, and finally I turned on him, exasperated.
“Could youpossiblybe so kind as to quit this exchange? It does not involve you.”
Desmond’s brow lowered, his copper-brown eyes flashing with irritation. “We’re standing in my private laboratory.”
“I can remedy that.” I tucked the currant loaf under my arm and snatched my father’s bag from the table. “If you wouldn’t mind?” I gestured at the door with his satchel.
My father turned back to Desmond. “It was good to see you again, despite the circumstances. I do hope you’ll keep in touch.”
“Of course. Good day, Mr. Fallbrook.” Desmond took up a position behind a table holding a complicated array of beakers, burners, and piping. “Amber.”
