“I will answer to the best of my abilities.”
I glance up at him as he takes a careful seat on the same couch. Though, he’s ensured to sit at the farthest part away from me. His shoulders are angled in my direction, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back.
I clear my throat. “What do you know of the women in the infirmary?”
Johanna. Devin said something about Johanna.But I can’t recall if one of the two women who went to the infirmary was named Johanna. And Devin mentioned Cyrus is in a mood—so I tread carefully.
“As in their background or…?” he trails off.
“As in why they’re in the infirmary.”
“They’re sick,” he answers simply.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Is that right? Sick with what?”
He shakes his head slowly, squinting at me. “They aren’t sure yet. They’re conducting tests to figure it out. And keeping them quarantined in the event it's contagious. Lady Bethany and the doctors are managing it just fine, if you’re worried about it?—”
“And you’renotworried?” I test.
He sags his head to one shoulder. “Marcella, I always worry.”
Gritting my teeth, I work through what to say next. Then finally letting it slip out slowly, “Is one of them named Johanna?”
He flinches like I’ve slapped him across the face. Then his expression falls, and his chest begins to heave.
“Answer me.” I press, not patient to wait for an answer.
“No…”
“Then who is she?”
He suddenly gets up and walks away from me toward the hearth. “You remember her name, but nothing else?”
I tighten my arms over my chest. “No, I don’t.”
He shakes his head slowly, leaning against a shelf above the hearth with one fist. “What is this about then, Marcella? You come in the middle of the night wanting to talk about something that can’t wait until morning, and you want to talk abouther?”
I uncross my legs and push up, walking toward him. “Her? Yes, I want to talk about her. And I want to talk about why two women have randomlyfallen sick, and how in the middle of last night I heard a woman scream. I want to talk about Lyra?—”
“What about her?” he snaps his head in my direction with a flicker of something in his eyes before it vanishes.
I stop two paces from him, digging into his gaze and searching for truth. I want to be careful. For her sake and mine. “Who are you called to the most right now?”
He puffs out a breath and rolls his attention back to the hearth. “It’s not that simple.”
“Oh, please. Indulge me. You can’tpossiblybe drawn to all of them equally.”
His fingers curl, gripping the shelf.
My voice rises as the confusion melts into frustration. “Or at the very least, tell me who in the hells Johanna is because I don’t seem to recall a single woman here that goes by that name. Unless you’re seeing someone else outside of this competition?—”
“She was mywife!” he bites out, slamming a fist onto the hearth’s shelf hard enough to break a piece of it off.
I take a step back, hand floating to my thigh where my dagger is. Shock steals my thoughts, my tongue.
He takes the other half of the shelf, still secured to the wall, and gently pulls it off before tossing it to the ground. He’s still facing the open flames in the hearth.
“Y-you were…married, before?” I stutter.
