Lady Kenneth’s smile widened. “I’d be delighted. Shall I notify you once the texts arrive?”
“Perfect,” Dominic said.
“I’ve noticed something else,” Lady Kenneth said, her expression turning thoughtful. “Unusual behavior patterns among some court members lately. Nothing I can pinpoint specifically, just a general sense of unease.”
“Even with the giggling issue resolved?” I asked.
“Especially since then. You’d think people would be relieved, but instead they seem more on edge.” She shook her head. “Perhaps the approaching festival is creating pressure.”
“Perhaps,” Dominic said, though his tone suggested he was thinking about other possibilities.
The door opened again, and Lady Featherby bustled in. Today she wore a blue gown with sprigs of herbs stitched into the sleeves and collar, her silver hairelaborately braided as usual. Her ever-present purse of remedies clinked as she moved around the room to an empty chair
“Good morning, everyone.” She sat and leaned forward. “Have you eaten enough? Is the primwort properly brewed? I have some lovely honey from my garden bees if anyone needs sweetener.”
Lord Turren entered without his usual flair. His purple hair had been simply combed back and lacked its elaborate styling. He wore a plain jacket, and I spied no mirror in sight.
He dropped into his chair, slumping instead of arranging himself for optimal appearance. His gaze drifted to the window.
“Lord Turren, darling, how are you feeling this morning?” Lady Featherby asked.
“Fine. Just tired.”
Lady Kenneth’s eyebrows rose. Dominic leaned forward. Even Savory stopped preening to watch the lord.
Lady Featherby frowned. “You look a bit peaked. I have a lovely tonic for melancholy, made from elderflower and moonbell essence. It’s very soothing.”
“I’m fine, Lady Featherby.” His voice came out polite but firm. “I’m just not sleeping well.”
“Ah, I have something for that too.” She rummaged in her purse, producing a small vial of shimmering liquid, holding it out toward him. “This is my grandmother’s recipe for restoring natural vitality. Put three drops in your morning tea.”
“I don’t need fixing.”
The edge in his voice made Lady Featherby pause, but only briefly. She pulled out a jar of cream, placing it on the table beside his plate. “At least let me give you somethingfor those circles under your eyes. This works wonders for stress-related complexion issues.”
Turren’s jaw tightened.
Dominic jumped in. “Lady Featherby, how are your gardens doing? I’ve heard your bees have been particularly productive this season.”
“Oh, yes, wonderfully so.” She didn’t take her eyes off Lord Turren. “Though I’m sure they’d be even better if certain people weren’t running themselves into exhaustion.”
He’s a peacock who has lost his tail feathers,Savory said.A pretty bird who forgot his songs.
The lord picked at his food. Whatever was troubling him went deeper than a bad night’s sleep.
Lady Featherby produced an ornate bottle with sparkles floating inside the clear pink liquid. “This is my most powerful restorative. It works on everything from heartbreak to?—”
Turren stood, his chair scraping against the stone floor. “Not everything can be fixed with your potions and meddling.”
Silence fell across the table. Lord Turren never raised his voice, and he had yet to show anger when I was around. He was cheerful self-absorption, not this frustrated person glaring at Lady Featherby.
He stormed toward the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. He glanced back, and his mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but closed it instead. He strode out, leaving the door ajar.
Lady Featherby sat frozen, the tiny bottle still in her hand. Tears glinted in her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. She carefully returned the bottle to her purse, adding the jar of cream.
“I was only trying to help,” she whispered, gaping around at all of us. “I always just try to help.”
Lady Kenneth squeezed her hand. “We know. He knows that too.”
