“Yes.”
He tapped down her arm, an inch at a time, until he thought he found the threshold. It was just a few inches above her elbow.
“Roll up my sleeve,” Saffron instructed. “There’s a pen on the desk—you can mark where the lines stop, and then you’ll be able to better tell when they start receding. The journal said it was hours, but it’s already been almost an hour now. I don’t think my dose will take that long to subside, as it was only an infusion rather than the actual leaf.”
Alexander quickly rolled up her sleeve and stretched her arm out to examine it. Every inch of skin was cold to the touch. Saffron frowned as she caught sight of the lines on her inner arms, reaching upward like tree branches toward the sky. Alexander marked where the furthest line ended in a faded point in the middle of her inner arm.
Neither of them mentioned doing the same on her legs. It occurred to Alexander, however, that she might be cold givenhow frigid her arm was. He shucked his jacket and draped it over her legs.
“Oh, thank you.” Her cheeks tinged pink.
When Alexander settled Saffron’s arm gently with her hand in her lap over the edge of his jacket, she asked, “Would you mind writing down some notes?”
Grateful for something to do, Alexander wrote all he could recall of the timing and progression of Saffron’s symptoms, then took down her notes too. When he looked up from the papers, the mellow half-light the shadows of the domed Wilkins Building cast over the Quad had faded into deeper, cooler dusk. Saffron’s offer of half an hour was long since up.
When the notes were completed, Alexander asked to see her arm again.
“Good idea,” Saffron replied, her face brightening. He wondered if it was because she wanted to regain use of her limbs or because she was interested in the progress of the symptoms. Her enthusiasm for the scientific aspect of her experiment hadn’t wavered.
The black notch on her soft inner arm was officially above where the blue lines lay.
Saffron grinned at him. “At least we know we won’t be here all night!” Her smile fell, replaced by a look of wide-eyed dismay. “I mean, I don’t—” She looked like she would have liked to bury her face in her hands.
“I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” Alexander looked back to the notes, jotting down the update. “I don’t put much store in rumors, Saffron. Or what Berking says. Or implies.”
Saffron was quiet for a long moment. “I met with him about my research proposal for the expedition in March. He said some things to me—terrible, disgusting things.” She looked down at her hands. Alexander opened his mouth to assure her she didn’t need to share more, but she continued,her words rushed. “He pulled me toward him and grabbed at me and kissed me, if you can call it that.” Saffron shuddered. “I got away before he could … do anything else, and he tripped on the carpet and fell over, and then his assistant came in …” She sighed, dejected. “So, you see that rumor isn’t quite all rumor.”
His insides, already boiling at the images in his mind, burned still hotter at the shame engrained in her last words. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.
She let out a shaky laugh, still looking down. “Don’t be ridiculous—you didn’t do anything wrong. By some standards, Berking didn’t either. And I shouldn’t have gone to his office when I knew his reputation for—”
“It was not your fault,” Alexander ground out. Her eyes flew to his. Alexander moderated his tone and added, “You can’t blame yourself for his behavior. I’m sorry that it happened.”
“Oh.” Saffron paused, looking nonplussed. “I … I appreciate that, Alexander.”
An awkward silence fell. There were a lot of things Alexander wanted to say, but none felt right. Nodding toward her arm, he said, “That’s regressed a bit more. Can I get you a glass of water or perhaps tea?”
She nodded, and by the time he returned, the blue marks were down to her elbows. With a bright smile, Saffron reported she could move both her arms and her legs, demonstrating inelegantly before insisting he write it all down. They agreed that the lines were fading faster than they’d developed. Alexander didn’t admit it aloud, but he found that fascinating.
Alexander helped her sip from the glass of water he’d retrieved, and then went to finish arranging the bookshelf. When the lines had vanished from her hands, Saffron flexed and rubbed them together before she carefully took up the glass of water and finished drinking it with a grin. “Just a bit stiff.”
Unsure what to do now, Alexander simply wrote down the information.
“I should go.”
He looked up from the notes, surprised, and jumped to his feet to steady her as she rose from the couch, her hand braced on the arm. “But you just regained feeling—”
“I can walk, I think. I should go home.” Her voice was patient and tired.
Another protest was on the tip of his tongue, when Saffron straightened up, surprising him with her closeness. Her face was inches from his chest. Saffron took an uncertain step backward, and he took her by the shoulders to steady her. She looked up at him, a little frown wrinkling her brow, and said softly, “Thank you, Alexander. Would you excuse me for a moment?”
Alexander didn’t bother arguing as he stepped into the hall so she could adjust her clothing. He certainly could not insist that she stay locked in the office with him. She seemed, shockingly, well enough, and according to Dr. Maxwell’s journal, no other effects should develop.
Alexander walked with Saffron, arm in arm to keep her steady, into the chill night air. He hailed her a taxi home, where she assured him her flatmate would keep an eye on her.
The taxi disappeared into the steady stream of evening traffic. It was a damned foolish thing to do, Alexander reflected as he slowly made his way back to the North Wing and his own office, but Saffron’s experiment seemed to have achieved her goal. The blue lines on Saffron’s skin, the fact that she wasn’t in a coma—they all pointed to the xolotl vine not being responsible for Mrs. Henry’s poisoning. But he wasn’t sure it would matter. If the police wouldn’t believe the written account, he didn’t see why they would believe the report of a woman who felt strongly enough about Dr. Maxwell to administer poison to herself to prove his innocence.
CHAPTER 8
