Giselle, please.The man sounded pained. I tried to reach out and comfort him, but my limbs did not respond.
You need to be more upfront about your feelings. What if something horrendous happens again?
The towel and the scent of cedar disappeared, and so did the voices.
After an unknown period of time, I drifted back into consciousness. My eyelids were heavy as I took in the seafoam green wallpaper. I was back in my room at Lady Marianna’s manor. Misty slumbered peacefully near the window.
A loud snore came from the doorway. Maddox slouched against the wall, a string of drool pooling from his open mouth. I made a face.
My rustling bedsheets awoke him. “You’re awake!” Maddox wiped his chin and came to my bedside. “Don’t move. The physician said you might reopen your wound.”
I touched the bandages on my neck. “It’s only a scratch, isn’t it?” I croaked. My mouth felt like sandpaper.
“A little deeper than that,” Maddox said, grabbing a bottle of tonic and strips of linen from the bedside table. “Turn around. I have to redress it.”
I turned and moved my hair aside with some hesitance. My witch traits marred the spot behind my neck. Only Tizzy had seen it so far, and her reaction hadn’t been the best.
Maddox said nothing, however, and uncapped the tonic. I winced at the sting as he wiped my wound clean.
“How long have I been asleep?” I asked after downing the glass of water he offered me.
“Two days. The physician says you were overexerted,” Maddox said. He blew a breath. “Narcissa, you almost got yourself killed.”
“You would’ve liked that a month ago,” I said, discomfited at the concern in his voice.
“No. I wouldn’t have.” Silence pervaded as he took out fresh bandages and dressed my wound. “I...didn’t mean a lot of the things I said,” he muttered.
I began to turn my head, but thought better of it when my wound pulled. “Not even when you called me a cold-blooded snake demoness?”
Maddox cleared his throat. “You heard that?”
“That and more.”
“Oh,” he said. “Well, no. I was just angry.”
The sky was white beyond the rain-speckled window, the time of day indiscernible. I looked down.
“Why were you angry?” I said. “You have a loving mother and you’re Father’s legitimate heir. My presence didn’t change any of that.”
Bottles rattled as Maddox put the supplies away. “I suppose. But I have to work for Father’s approval,” he muttered. “He loves you unconditionally.”
The bedframe creaked as I shifted to face him. Maddox glared at his hands, which was crisscrossed with several new scars. From sword training, no doubt. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” I said awkwardly. After a beat, I added, “For all it’s worth, I apologize.”
He rubbed his face. “Don’t. I was a hateful idiot.”
I smoothed the wrinkles from my pillow, hoping to bring levity to the conversation. “So, you don’t abhor witches with all your being?”
Maddox smiled mirthlessly. “I didn’t trust them entirely. I suppose that was amplified by your presence, but no, I don’t. Not to the point of setting fires.”
I thought back to the flax farmer who had held me at knifepoint. “Where are my clothes from the other night?”
He jutted his chin to the pile of sooty fabric beside the medical supplies. “Looks like they didn’t have time to launder them.”
Despite Maddox’s protestations, I eased out of bed and dug through the pockets. My hand met the slip of paper. I unfolded it eagerly.
“‘Come see star soprano Celeste Carr at the Grand Alevine Opera inOde to the Moon.February twenty-eighth, midnight’,” Maddox read from the flier in my hands. He raised his brows at the illustration of a dark-haired woman sitting on a crescent moon.
I put it down in disappointment. “This came from the woman who held me hostage. I thought it would tell us more about the rioters, but...” I sighed.
