“You looked as if you would lift the partial vial from the dung,” I say, my tone half asking whether that was true.
“I was waiting for you to look away. I know that the thought of lifting it from horse shit and putting that container to my lips is foul. Iknowit.” Isabeau looks at me in alarm. “I would’ve, though.Why?”
“Curses are a sort of magic, possibly similar to the magic that prevents people from guessing the Hunter’s name. People willingly ignore the evidence that would have them guess the Hunter’s name. My family hasalwaysbeen the Hunter, yet the secret remains. Magic is powerful.” I take her hand in mine. “Tell me where it is, and I will take the vial and go. I’ll be back by evening. You’ll be safe here.”
She nods. “In my pocket.”
“Of?”
“My breeches.” She trembles, and I recognize it as a mix of fear and compulsion. “These breeches.”
Quickly I step closer and kiss her. At the same time, I dart a hand into her pocket and steal the vials.
As I pull away, she grabs my wrist. “Both? You took both?”
“I’ll bring the second one back if I can,” I promise. With the arm she’s not holding, I make a fist and press that arm sideways across her chest like a bar. I push her backward. “Release my arm, my love.”
“I am trying,” she whispers.
I toss the vials behind me into the hallway, where they land with a clatter, and Isabeau tries to dash past me after them. I grab her and kiss her forcefully, walking her backward toward the bed.
When I pull back, I say, “I love you. I’ll be back. Please try to stay here until I leave the manor. This magic is stronger than I expected.”
I run out of the room and pull the door shut with a loud bang. Holding it closed, I calmly say, “Close the bar on the door, Your Grace. You don’t want to chase me.”
I hear the metal fall in place, but I also hear her say, “I do. I do want to chase you.”
“You will not. Not if you want me to be your bride,” I say steadily. “Do you want to marry me, Isabeau?”
“Yes.” Her voice is breaking on that one word. “I do.”
“Then do not chase me.” I scoop up the vials and race down the stairs and outside, where a startled Rylan stands with Anders. “Guard the house. No patrols this evening. I’ll send the rest of the unit to the house.”
Then I’m off to the stable and on my way to the village to see Maria.
Uncharacteristically, Maria is sitting outside when I walk toward her cottage. Her sun-browned face is tilted upward, and she’s barefoot. Eyes still closed, she greets as I approach, “Hunter.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“No one else would approach me so quietly.” One eye opens and takes me in. “How is Her Grace?”
My mouth gapes open. “How ...”
Maria cackles joyously. “Girard told me she was here, Hunter.”
I hold out the two vials I carried here. “This is her tonic. I need to know what it is.”
“She gave that to you?” Maria pushes to standing and shoves her feet into her worn brown brogues.
“More or less,” I hedge. “She allowed me to take it after I shared my doubts on her curse.”
Maria nods and leads me inside. I sit while she sets up a microscope and a few glass tubes. She’s quiet as she sniffs, separates samples, and tests.
“Saint-John’s-wort.” She lifts one glass. “Smell. The orange fragrance.”
I lean in. “I guess. I mostly smell the dirty-feet smell.”
“Valerian root.”
