I sit upright and stretch. Resting on the soft cushion of half-opened bales of hay made for deep sleep, and that has left me clearer of mind. So, too, has talking to Isabeau—but it has also left me with questions. “Do you have more of your current tonic?”
Isabeau frowns. “Why?”
“I want to see what’s in it.” I roll my shoulders. A few hours of rest don’t replace a full night’s sleep, although I need far less rest as the Hunter than I have for most of my life. “I want to go into the village and consult my physician.”
“About my tonic?”
“I’m not convinced you’re truly cursed,” I say carefully.
“I am unconscious as soon as darkness falls.”
“What if that’s because of the tonic? Perhaps one of the new ingredients makes you sleep. Perhaps something in it disagrees with you, and that’s why you think you are cursed.” I sigh at the expression she has now, confusion and doubt vying in her features. “Curses are rare, Isabeau. If you aretrulycursed, the timing matches when the monster started attacking. I need to know more.”
“That first death was also the same day my father died,” Isabeau points out. “His death is a more likely reason for my curse. Curses are often familial. The dowager duchess explained it to me. Perhaps it only afflicts some family members, and when he died, it fell to me.”
“Washecursed? His sister? Your cousin Alaric?” I fire questions at her. Then I gently remind her, “This is who I am, Isabeau. I figure out mysteries tied to the faeries, and I stop the faeries who are hurting people.”
“My father did not have this curse. Nor does my mother. Or the queen.” Isabeau frowns.
“So why doyou?” I am careful in my questions, but I do not see how she’s not asked these same things—unless it’s a function of the curse itself. Faeries are treacherous beasts, so it is not impossible that they’ve woven something into the framework of the curse to stop questions.The magic around the Hunter prevents many questions,I think.That magic was written by faeries as part of the treaty.
“Do you feel different since the curse?” I prod. “What if you miss your tonic?”
“I do not miss it.” Isabeau shakes her head, but her expression makes her opinion on skipping it exceedingly clear. “I have never. Imustdrink it.”
More magic? Or addiction to something in the tonic? Compulsion magic is treacherous stuff, but so is poppy juice. Is that what’s in her tonic? Is her curse actually simple medicine? I ponder what it means as we walk together to the manor and go inside, where my mother andsister are waiting. They have books in hand, but their expressions are expectant.
“Am I to finally begin planning your wedding?” Mother asks.
“Eventually,” I allow. “The mission ...”
“... comes first,” Mother and Rylan both finish. They are smiling, though, and I feel a bit awkward that we are all discussing my romantic life. Fortunately, Isabeau looks happy, rather than put off by their involvement.
“Welcome to our family, Your Grace,” Mother says, coming to her feet. “I shall speak to Cook about the midday meal. Come. Let her know your opinions.”
“Mother.” I shake my head. “I must go to the village. I need to see Maria.”
“You seem uninjured,” Mother says, studying me. “And you have no need of a birth inhibitor.”
The thought of discussing pregnancy is not welcome, but I add, “There are other areas Maria can address. I want to know what’s in Isabeau’s tonic. Nothing in the journals says that any curse is altered by tonics.”
Isabeau frowns at this.
“I want to speak to Henry, Polly, and Nolan, as well as Anders.” I would’ve already shared my recent conversation with them if not for my distraction with the woman who holds my heart. “They have been parsing evidence with me.”
Rylan joins our conversation with, “Anders stops by at midday after her morning patrol. She ought to be here soon.”
“You know her schedule well.” I focus on my sister’s burning cheeks. I will have questions for her later.
“The soldiers can escort you to the village,” Rylan adds as she closes her book. “Although I suppose you aren’t yet bound by the Hunter’s draconian restrictions, Your Grace.Someof us have to ask permission to leave the manor.”
After Rylan leaves to check for the soldiers, I pull Isabeau aside and lead her to the guest room where she slept last night. I have a plan, and I know she’s not going to like it. “Give me one of your vials, Isabeau. I want to take it to Maria. If it was the beast that cursed you, this might give me a clue.”
Isabeau frowns. “I want to help you.”
“Then give me the tonic,” I ask again.
“If I do, I must stay here rather than go to the village. If I am near you, I will take it from you or the physician.” Isabeau looks embarrassed. “I cannot stop the compulsion to drink it.”
