16
Mr. Erasmus Lenardwas the head of the royal inspection team, having risen to his post by being the only member. Ash said that King Humphrey didn’t see the need for an extensive inspection team after pioneering the Non-Magic Age. I thought that was quite silly.
We soon found ourselves in the old man’s laboratory, poorly lit and crowded with all sorts of gadgets and mysterious crates. The sheer quantity of strange things in the space reminded me of Lana’s cottage, though the crumbling stone walls were much less welcoming.
“Damn traitors,” the inspector grumbled. “I was about to submit a retirement request.”
“I assure you, sir, my father will happily let you retire after this case,” Ash said.
He snorted. “Erasmus will do, boy. I cannot have my first visitors in fifteen years call me ‘sir’.”
I gawked at the old man, wondering if he had been trapped down here for that long.
Erasmus caught my eye. “Who are you, missy?”
“Amarante Flora, s—er, Erasmus,” I said, deciding to hold off on curtsying lest I offend him.
He snorted again. His eyes flicked to my dirty sleeves. “And here I thought they finally allow women to do something useful,” he said. “Fetch me a pair of gloves, will you?”
“Actually, I’m a witness,” I said.
“And also a servant, aren’t you?”
“She’s a debutante,” Ash intervened. “I’ll fetch the gloves.”
He disappeared around the corner, leaving me and the inspector in the cramped room. My determination dwindled as he bustled about his desk with clear authority despite his advanced age. How was I ever going to tell him about my theory if he thought I was a servant at first glance?
“That one fancies you, doesn’t he?” Erasmus said.
I had enough teasing from Tori and Genevieve. The last thing I needed was the royal inspector teasing me too. “A platonic friendship between a young man and woman is very possible, sir,” I said.
“Not during the Season, little flower.”
“What did you call me?”
“You’re named after the amaranth flower. Love-lies-bleeding, if you’re poetic. Or depressed. I see very little difference between the two.”
The old man was off his rocker. I glanced at the door, wishing Ash would come back so I didn’t have to reply. Thankfully, the door swung open and he returned with a thick pair of gloves. I could’ve kissed him. Platonically, of course.
