Page 194

We enter.

“Don’t run.”

His head jerks around.

“Let me go, now. You have already amused yourself enough by humiliating me.”

I advance, the bed is before me.

“Humiliating you?” I utter, without stopping. “I am merely supporting you.”

He struggles, a sharp shrug of his shoulder, fingers clawing for purchase.

“Do not force me to waste more time. Bud’umnitsey. Be good.”

When I set him down, the mattress gives way under his weight. I remain over him just long enough to prevent him from rising.

He glares at me.

His eyes are bright, glassy and too vivid for a body trembling like this.

“And do you truly think to restrain me?” he scoffs. “You are merely a man with long hands and the arrogance of an aristocrat.”

I let him fall back fully onto the bed. The door opens behind me, quick footsteps and a soft splashing sound follow.

The valet, with that poorly tied shock of hair, enters carrying a ceramic basin, a pitcher, and neatly folded cloths.

“Are you well, Viscount?”

Evander tries to push himself up on his elbows. Before he can manage it, my hand returns to his chest to stop him.

That valet looks at me.

I really should break his bones.

“It is only the fever rising,” Evander says, with a smile that doesn’t hold. “Nothing more, Étienne.”

I point to the table without turning around.

“Set everything down. And you may withdraw.”

His valet halts in the middle of the room.

“My lord... you cannot look after the Viscount yourself.”

“Perhaps you did not hear me,” I lower my voice. “I said you are to withdraw.”

His gaze wavers, but he holds his ground.

“It is against all the rules.”

I take a step toward him.

“Go, Étienne,” Evander interrupts.

The valet’s eyes go wide. “Viscount—”

“If you find my corpse tomorrow, you will know who was responsible. Now go.”