The duke lapped at his breakfast, and I felt another bubble of laughter rising up. I needed somewhere else to look while I questioned him. I propped one elbow on the table, resting my chin in my hand. “Do you usually dine in front of your guests—and I use that word in the loosest definition possible—without offering them anything more than tea?”
He lifted his head, a bit of porridge in the fur around his mouth. “Couldn’t hold off on your questions long enough to enjoy your own breakfast, I take it?”
“Or maybe I couldn’t find a path to the tray through all the clutter.”
“Clutter! Only worthless items are clutter. My guest rooms are decorated with priceless ornaments.”
I concentrated, catching the quick succession of node magics that rang out as the duke called in toast, fruit, a second bowl of porridge, and two types of juice. I lifted a slice of toast. “Junk.”
“Antiques.”
“Do you even know what is in the guest rooms?”
His ear twitched. “Not a clue.”
I almost smiled. Catching myself, I instead took a large bite of the toast. The duke held me at his castle under duress. I shouldn’t enjoy bantering with him.
The toast was delicious, golden brown and dripping with butter. The fruits were sweet and juicy. I took a few minutes to focus on my breakfast. And all the reasons I hated the duke. Once I reinforced my opinion of him as a selfish ass, I resumed my quest to get answers.
“You said ‘she’ last night.” I poured myself a second cup of tea. “Who is the woman who cursed you?”
“Lady Cecily of Finley. The baron’s youngest child.”
I only had the vaguest knowledge of geography outside Leort’s immediate environs. I could find the capital city of Haiwella and a few other towns on a map, but I had no idea where Finley was. Not that it mattered.
“How do you know Lady Cecily?”
“She stayed at Rose Castle for about a month this past spring.”
“And what was her purpose here?” It required all my training with the constables to keep my expression mild. I hadn’t expected to drag the entire story out question by question. Usually, I let suspects ramble for a while, then asked clarifying questions based on what they had already revealed. Most people wanted to talk. Even the guilty ones tended to say too much, thinking their lies were better than silence.
The duke had no difficulty keeping his answers short. “To become the next Duchess of Truthhold, naturally.”
“Naturally.” I mimicked the duke’s drawl. “She stayed for an entire month. Was she close to achieving her aim, oblivious, or obstinate?”
“Misguided.”
I clenched my jaw. “In what way?”
“She was under the impression that worming her way into my bed meant a betrothal was on the way.”
“Did you send her away at the end of the month, or did she come to her senses and flee?” As a constable, I would never ask the question in such a way, but I wasn’t here as a constable. Besides, I couldn’t help myself.
The duke ignored my phrasing. “I devoted considerable effort to convincing her that a betrothal was not in our future and she finally chose to leave.”
“What was her mood upon departure?”
“Well, she came back a month later and cursed me, so probably not positive.”
I took a deep breath and imagined Frederic, my mentor among the constables, was standing at my side. He questioned people without the aid of truth-reading all the time. I could handle this. “I meant her immediate reaction, Your Grace. How did Lady Cecily react when she realized you had no intention of marrying her?”
He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “She understandably spiraled into the blackest of depressions upon learning she could not have me.”
I pushed away from the table and paced toward the far end. If the duke answered my questions seriously, that might be one thing, but as it was, I needed my power to sift through his answers. It was more than a matter of differentiating truths from lies. Especially when I couldn’t even rely on body language to judge the nuances.
“This is pointless,” I complained when I turned back to face the duke. “I can’t learn anything from you without my power.”
The duke joined me, his soft paws silent on the table’s surface. “I’m answering your questions, aren’t I? Even though they have nothing to do with the actual curse. What more do you want, Miss Cardh?”
