Page 27 of The Demon's Discovery
“Please, take this as a good faith symbol of my intentions.” He slid a small square box across the table.
I opened it to find a ring inside. It did not appear to be anything of significant value, just a silver band with filigree leaves. It looked like something found in a trinket shop, something that would turn my skin green in a matter of minutes. The insult of such a thing being my engagement ring cut almost as deep as my employers’ betrayal.
Feiser frowned, clearly disappointed in my lack of reaction. “I can understand your hesitation to wear such an item, especially in your line of work.” I’d disrespected him but was unrepentant, as they’d each done the same to me. “However,” he continued, jaw set. A quick glance around the table showed similar expressions on all their faces. “I’m afraid I must insist. The material is uniquely durable. You should find no difficulty wearing it.”
“I don’t think?—”
He snatched both the box and my right hand, jamming the ring onto my finger before I could protest any further. The metal was unusually warm where it rested against my skin.
“Oh dear. Isn’t that the wrong hand?” Lara asked. “Greta, be a dear and switch it, would you?”
“For my people, it’s customary to wear the engagement band on the right and the wedding ring on the left,” Feiser said, waving her off.
“Ah! Well, it’s a lovely ring! You’ve outdone yourself with her, for certain.”
The jewelry felt heavier than it should, hotter. I couldn’t wait to remove it from my finger, but it resisted even being adjusted or turned. It hadn’t seemed overly tight when it first went on, but it must have been.
They all continued a conversation around me, though I was unable to hear anything distinct over the rushing of blood in my ears. Henrik’s self-congratulations and compliments to the man about his business savvy were of no interest to me anyway.
I focused on the grain of the wood in the table instead of the fierce burn in my shoulders. I ran my fingertip over a dent I’d made as a teenager with the edge of a pewter cup. Bea and I had been playing a card game, and I’d gotten upset that she was winning. Not angry, just boisterous. My outburst and the deep gouge in the table had earned me a month’s worth of extra cleaning as punishment. Bea had come with me every day to help, she felt so bad that I was punished for us having a good time.
“Greta?” Henrik’s voice finally cut through the din.
“Sir?”
“You’re excused,” Lara rushed to say, her fear about me having an outburst was obvious, as well as her anger.
After one final glance at my intended husband—I gagged on the word—I got to my feet and crossed the room in long strides. It took all my effort not to fling the door open or slam it behind myself as a scream built in my throat.
Chapter 12
Vassago
“Where the saints is she?” I grumbled, stomping my way down the main hall, all the while cursing myself for such an outburst as I tried to contain the swell of emotions building behind my ribs. Greta had never not shown up when we agreed on a day for her to visit. Granted, she’d only come a handful of times over the previous weeks, but she’d always arrived as expected.
I paced my classroom, tempted again to scry for her whereabouts, then cursed myself for thinking such a thing. In my frustration, I flung one of the small books I kept notes in, and it knocked over a jar. The glass shattered on the stone floor before I could catch it. “Shit.” I plunged my fingers into my hair, tugging lightly as my nails scraped along my scalp before cleaning up my mess.
I hadn’t felt so ungrounded in decades. It was borderline obsessive how I felt about her; I recognized that. It shouldn’t have made a bit of difference to me that she was missing one of our meetings.
I’d spent three days shifting books and supplies so she would have a whole cabinet and bookshelf to herself in my classroom. I hadn’t needed to go out to find a plush velvet chaise that she could much more comfortably nap on, but finding one in a shade that exactly matched the sofa had provided me with an unreasonable amount of joy. I shouldn’t have spent the better part of an hour staring out the front windows, watching for any activity at the gate, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
We hadn’t even discussed yet whether she would join d’Arcan as a student or as a teacher, though she’d be here permanently one way or the other if I had any say in the matter. Rylan clearly assumed as much, and Magnus had handed me the key to his apartment over breakfast, claiming he had plenty of other places to find rest and if she needed it, she should make use of it.
I cleaned up the resulting destruction of my tantrum and forced slow breaths through my nose. This was not like me. I wasn’t prone to emotional displays or childish behavior. But not seeing her, not having her close enough to check on, not hearing her laughter or smelling her soft lilac scent while she was curled up on my sofa napping made my chest ache. I knew it would be nothing at all for me to spend all the gold I’d stashed away over centuries if finding her a special ingredient or a custom crucible made her smile.
It was utter madness.
I paced my office as my thoughts trailed around in circles. Perhaps she’d lost track of what day it was. Maybe she couldn’t get away. I eyed the mirror for longer than I should have, rubbing the alum crystal she’d made between my thumb and forefinger. Finally, I’d set it down andtskedat myself for being ridiculous. There was no reason to scry to locate her. She was fine. She was at the Belette manor where shelived, working, most likely.
I stomped up to my suite and took a double dose of my curse suppressing tincture, hopeful it would help settle me if only for a while.
My frustration only eased when Clem finally returned, carrying a passenger in the carriage.
Greta was unusually morose, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, as though she’d been crying. The sight made my insides burn. The rage was so instantaneous and intense, I wondered if Rylan’s tincture worked at all anymore.
“I was beginning to worry you might not make it today,” I forced a smile, but she flinched back with a blink, warning me that my anger was showing.
“You’re not the only one,” she said quietly, staring at my eyes. “Perhaps I shouldn’t…”
