Page 63 of The Consort's Curse
I received unwelcome proof of that shortly after seven, when the summer sun and the housemaids had already been upfor two hours or so, but I’d barely sunk into a real hour of sleep. A distant commotion of voices and slamming doors startled me out of a dream about eating lemon scones and getting the crumbs all over Stefan’s bare chest. Which would’ve been lovely, except that he’d been unconscious and cold and nonresponsive, and I’d been crying while I tried to brush the crumbs out of his chest hair, begging him to wake up and be angry with me.
A frantic check of Stefan’s breathing and heartbeat with both my mundane and magical senses revealed no change. A possible, very slight improvement, if anything, and he hadn’t lost any ground overnight. I cursed myself for having slept even a little. What if he’d needed me? My stomach twisted painfully, and it took half a second for everything to come into focus whenever I turned my pounding head.
Aldrich appeared from the dressing room, hair all fluffy but otherwise alert. “What’s that, my lord?”
The hubbub had come closer, close enough to almost make out Lord Corombos’s words, which had a pleading tone to them. The hair rose on the back of my neck. The other voice…
“Lock the door if it’s not already, and help me dress,” I said, rolling out of bed and dashing for the bathroom. I refused to be in bed, with no pants on and a full bladder and fuzzy teeth, when the Lord Chancellor walked in unannounced, as he obviously intended. Bastard. “Tell them you’ll open the door in a moment when they start rattling the knob.”
They’d progressed to pounding by the time I sat back down beside Stefan, taking his hand again immediately. The contact grounded me, all the little anxious tendrils of my magic wrapping around the glowing spark deep within him that maintained his life, feeding it my strength, making us one.
“Let them in,” I said, and poor harried Aldrich unlocked the door and swung it wide, stepping back as far as he could and half concealing himself behind it. I didn’t blame him. The LordChancellor strode into the room in an aggressive swirl of black robes, beard bristling, eyes blazing.
“What has happened here?” he demanded. “Where are the healers? The physicians? Why wasn’t I summoned at once, last night? Explain yourself!”
My skull gave a new, sharp throb, my head wobbling on my neck, hopefully not visibly.
Fuck this. All at once, I simply didn’t have the energy to care about anything but Stefan. Not even myself, although luckily I had Aldrich for that. And certainly not my father-in-law’s blustering and hostility and unearned self-righteousness. I couldn’t throw him out; not only would he ignore me, but so would Lord Corombos, and besides, his son lay ill. He had the right to see him.
But that didn’t mean I had to humor him.
“Aldrich, show all of these people out, shut the door, and remain outside,” I said. “Lord Ettori, feel free to sit.”
To my amazement, Lord Ettori shut up, waiting until the door had shut behind Aldrich, Lord Corombos, and what looked like the rest of the household all gawking at the spectacle. But he didn’t sit down. He advanced on the bed, staring down at Stefan with an expression very like my husband’s when he didn’t want to show his emotions.
“Well?” he asked sharply, looking up at me with a glare that would’ve terrified me a few months ago. “I said explain yourself!”
Three months ago, I’d have been not only terrified, but furious and at a loss for words. But since then…since then I’d been married to Stefan, who believed me when I told him the truth and believedinme when he needed someone to trust. He’d nearly died last night protecting me. Now he couldn’t even protect himself.
But I could. I damn well could. I gripped his hand a little tighter, feeling our pulses beating in unison, knowing that he was mine. I lifted my chin, my magic coursing through me, giving me the strength to straighten my spine and meet that outraged glare of Lord Ettori’s without flinching.
“Listen carefully, my lord, because I’m going to say this once. I’m too tired to repeat myself. We had healers in last night. Now he needs to rest, and that’s all there is to it. I don’t owe you any explanation at all, anyway.”
“The hell you don’t! I am his father, I am the one who makes these decisions for my family—”
“That was only true until you forced me to marry him!” I hadn’t meant it to come out as a shout, and I winced, coughed, and glanced guiltily at the door. Hopefully only Aldrich had stayed in the hall. “Now I make the decisions for Stefan when he’s unable to himself,” I said more quietly, into an ominous, ringing silence, the hush before a storm. “It’s my legal obligation and my moral right. That’s your doing.”
A swollen vein beat in the Lord Chancellor’s forehead. Would I help him if he collapsed with an apoplexy? Maybe. Maybe not. On the other hand, he probably wouldn’t collapse, damn it all, and I still needed to deal with him.
I added, “And before you start throwing a fit or trying to separate us, it’s my magic that’s giving him the strength to keep healing. He needs me.”
Watching Lord Ettori stifle his rage and force himself to calm down was almost fascinating, like a master class for courtiers and politicians. The purple tinge to his skin faded away, and his hands unclenched. He eyed me with a more calculating gleam, gaze hard and assessing.
“Corombos told me the same, that there had been two healing mages here last night,” he said at last. “If I summonedthem back and asked them the same questions on pain of death, would they give me the same answers you have?”
My vision washed crimson, my magic rising up like a flame in my chest. “Leave us alone, and Stefan has a good chance of living. Interfere, and he might die. If he dies, I’ll have nothing to lose by lighting you on fire, and I’ve gotten very good at that, although not so good at putting the fires out. Which isn’t a drawback in that scenario, in my opinion.” He stared at me. I cleared my throat. “And yes. They’d give you the same answers.”
“Nothing to lose but your sister’s life,” Lord Ettori ventured, but he sounded…uncertain. Gods, he soundeduncertain. “I have those letters. Stefan persuaded me not to use them, but—”
“Lord Benedict’s aware of your threats,” I said briskly, because if I allowed myself to slow down at all, I might start slurring and forget my next words. Gods, I was so tired, and my head ached! And Stefan still hadn’t woken. I longed to lie down and wrap my arms around him and close my eyes, sink into our shared warmth. Lord Ettori needed togo away. “I have no doubt Duke Lucian is, too. I’ve been assured they don’t execute children. Burn the letters. Or choke on them. I don’t care.”
Another silence fell, but this one had a different quality to it, calmer and more contemplative. Lord Ettori gazed down at his son, his expression gone—not soft. I doubted this man had ever been soft. But certainly thoughtful.
“Stefan and Benedict have always been as thick as thieves.” He stroked his hand through his beard, eyes still fixed on Stefan’s face. “When they were boys, I encouraged it. In fact, I encouraged Treviso to marry Benedict’s mother, to add one more tie between my family and the throne. Not that Treviso knew my reasoning, of course. And see how well that’s worked out for me, eh?”
I stared at him. He had to be joking. He simply had to be. But when he laughed, a dry little chuckle that set my teeth on edge, it sounded more like satisfaction than amusement.
“You know, I love my son,” he said, and glanced back up at me.
