Delphinium- or A Necromancer's Home
Page 22
Pierre cleaned his knife and did not intrude as Wolfram vomited. Neither did he look up to Jourdain’s body, having gone pale himself. He was a sinful man, but not without empathy. It had been a while since he had done something so cruel. It was a small comfort that by the second wound the shock would have kept Jourdain from feeling pain.
“Come on now.” Pierre wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, leading him out of the cell. He had seen enough, and wouldn’t benefit from this any longer.
“How will you get rid of the body?” Wolfram gasped.
“Pluta can consume it in its entirely in a day or two. And beside, this place is warded against those who are not suitors.” The boy shuddered.
“Is this even worth it?”
Pierre was not sure if the question was directed at him. Nor was he sure he could answer.
***
Wolfram excused himself and went to his room right away, unable to face anyone after witnessing the murder. Pierre did not have that luxury and stayed amid his court, keeping up appearances as long as possible, but a pale face and scattered attention was enough to concern those closest to him. After dinner Elizabeth suggested they walk the grounds together, reminding him of his promise that early morning. When he stood she took his arm. Vivien made to say something, and she held off the steward with a look.
“This is a private matter, monsieur. I believe you have taken up His Grace’s time for the evening, and he should be allowed to spend time with his beloved.” She hoped she did not impose too much, but Pierre said nothing to the contrary and Vivien obeyed.
“I shall finish the evening duties, my lady.”
“See that you do, Lord Steward.”
They held hands, walking in silence. At first it was sweet, but Lizzy noticed the tremors in his grip even through his gloves and began to worry. Without saying anything she began to take them off. He protested, weakly, but did not stop her, finally letting her hold his hand. It was rough, and new thin scars laced his palm. Even with her this close, while out alone, his attention was very far away. Something was wrong.
She sat, pulling him down beside her. His hands were both now clasped in hers, and she pressed their tangled fingers to her chest. The neckline of her dress was particularly low this evening, she had worn a shawl inside for modesty but during the walk she had moved it to around her arms.
“Elizabeth—”
“Sh,” she hushed. “Feel my heart.”
It beat quickly, her skin warming with his touch. If it were lighter out she was certain he would see her blushing. To distract herself from the thought that had begun to come to her she began to speak.
“Though noircræft may need to use blood, blancræft never needs spill any life to heal,” she said. Pierre nodded, knowing this was true, but still not trusting his voice. “This is not... nothing more than healing.” She drew in a sharp breath as some of his fingers found the curve of her breast.
They sat in silence, breathing in rhythm, and true to her word Pierre began to feel less ill and plagued by what he had done. Even the headache beginning deep behind his eyes from the cræft dulled.
“Have you ever done something terrible?” he asked.
Lizzy was silent, holding tightly onto his hand. “I believe perhaps everyone has.”
Oh, how he wanted to tell her everything. Confess his darkest sins, hear her judgment, her punishment. Know for certain whether she would love or scorn him after this revelations. Yet he could not speak and so he just sat and took in the night air.