Page 11 of The Poison Within

CHAPTER FOUR

HIS LORDSHIP SIPS TEA

Our weekly rendezvous ceased after that strange, fateful night, leaving me bereft. During the next month, I saw Elly but once. Briefly—on a work-related matter—and in wider company.

“We need to talk, Käyru,” he muttered to me when no one could overhear us, never quite meeting my gaze. The solemn edge to his voice, coupled with the detached expression he wore, didn’t bode well.

His cold behaviour stabbed me straight in the heart, but I respected the boundaries he set, so I remained distant myself. He looked well and healthy. His face had lost its gaunt look, and his cheeks and lips had gained more colour. The nasty cough appeared to have gone, and that mattered to me above all. I’d heard he had even taken up fencing again. After weeks of fretting over his illness and his indifference, it brought me indescribable solace to see that he had recuperated.

I knew he’d been busy with province affairs and meeting with the Emperor’s emissaries, so when he didn’t reach out to me, I accepted what it meant. The message couldn’t have been any clearer, however much I wanted to pretend otherwise.

I threw myself into work, taking additional cases and filling in for other inspectors. I woke up and went to bed drained, with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I slept poorly and ate little. I’d even stopped reading. Most of the time I remained numb inside, but I forced myself to go about my daily business as if my world hadn’t become filled with grief.

One evening I arrived home earlier than usual, dead-tired and subdued. Every indrawn breath of the icy air made my nostrils burn. The change from autumn to winter brought about a flare-up in my leg, and while the pain wasn’t sharp enough to prompt a visit to Ÿben, it bothered me and affected my mood. I planned on soaking my bones in the oversized tin bathtub I proudly owned, then drinking myself into oblivion by the fireplace.

As I approached the building, I noticed light glinting from the windows of my first-floor rooms, which struck me as odd. The widow Peyes, my landlady, rarely troubled herself with making the fire prior to my arrival, but with the cold we’d been having, she must’ve decided to banish the chill throughout the old stone house. Rubbing my hands together in a pathetic attempt to restore circulation to my fingertips, I couldn’t say I had any complaints.

I walked inside, but before I could slip upstairs and into my apartment, the older woman intercepted me and pulled at my sleeve. She looked flushed and a little breathless. Crow’s feet creased the sides of her sparkling eyes. “Inspector Skaer, you have a guest,” she gushed.

“I do?” While indeed, I rarely had guests, I had trouble figuring out the reason why someone should inspire such relish in her. “Well, who is it?”

“His lordship himself,” she whispered with reverence, clasping her hands together in awe. “Gracious gods! The Count of Radvadur—in my house. Having tea!”

I stilled.

Elly had never visited my quarters. I’d thought of inviting him several times, but thus far I’d lacked the courage to do so. The place, although modest enough, looked tidy and cosy. Still, it wasn’t the Radvadur Manor. The inns we stayed at were impersonal—I hadn’t wanted to imply that I saw our arrangement as something it could never be, and, in turn, make him uncomfortable.

Looks like the time for our promised talk had come after all.

My pulse thumped as I climbed the stairs, as eager as a convict walking to the scaffold. I knew what awaited me up in my rooms, and I didn’t want to face it.

When I opened the door, Elly stood by my bookshelf, browsing the titles I spent one-third of my Inspector wages on. Dressed in simple dark clothes, his hair loose, he sipped tea from the widow Peyes’ best porcelain and looked quite at home. So much, in truth, that my stomach clenched at the thought. Gods, I’d missed him. Regret and yearning washed over me. I bit the inside of my cheek to distract myself.

The room was warm and pleasant, bathed in the golden glow given off by the combined effort of the logs crackling in the wood burner and the oil lamp gleaming on the table.

“Good evening,” I said stiffly, unsure of how to address him. Our separation reverted the ease I felt around him to my previous awkwardness.

“And to you, Käyru. I’m sorry to call on you so out of the blue.”

“But of course,” I replied, a little nonsensically. My head spun, and I had no idea what to say.

“Frankly, I’ve been curious about your apartment.” He smiled. “I like it.” He looked around and nodded with approval.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said curtly. I would’ve preferred it if he delivered his piece and left. Hearing him say all those unnecessary kind words threatened to drive me over the edge. The thought that I might start crying in front of him crippled me.

An odd, vulnerable look ghosted over his face. He hesitated, but then he gestured towards the table. “Shall we? I won’t take up much of your time. I have something to say.”

His words extinguished the tiniest flicker of hope for a reunion I’d been clinging to like a fool. Hope that I hadn’t even dared acknowledge until it was gone. I sat at the opposite end of the table, pulling my chair back as much as I could so my face would remain partially veiled in shadow.

Elly laced his fingers together and set them on the tabletop. His knuckles went white. “Käyru, I can’t go on with you as we have been.”

And here it is.

Breathing became a challenge. Pain sliced through me, stupefying in its intensity. I’d known this day would come. I knew from the start. If I were honest, I’d expected it to happen a lot sooner. Alas, the premonition of an incoming disaster didn’t prepare me to handle its realisation any better.

Unable to answer, I dropped my chin low, avoiding his stare. As much as I appreciated him coming all the way to my humble abode and saying it to my face, I regretted he hadn’t simply written to me. Yes, it might’ve been the only thing for an honourable man to do, and Elly tended to tackle everything head-on. But right then, I longed for him to go so I could curl up in my bed and lick my wounds in private.

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for some time.” His tone sounded taut. “I almost did, that morning Temper interrupted us at the inn.”