His callous mirth had left me wary, and I’d ignored the derisive way he’d refused to address me properly with my title.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
No matter how many times I’d asked, he’d answered with silence while writing his results on a sheet of parchment, growing more amused with every scratch of his quill. Once he sealed the document closed, he handed me the mysterious letter.
“Give my regards to Lord Valencus.” Each word was laced with a snicker so filled with malice, I wanted to bloody his nose in the worst way.
In the hallway with his door closed behind me, I’d resisted my first instinct to crack the wax seal and read what he’d found so humorous. My sense of self-preservation had gotten the better of me. The letter was to be opened only by the Monarch during the ceremony. Any deviation would bring down the wrath of royalty and my father. My level of adolescent rebellion hadn’t included outright insanity.
A TROUBLED sigh slipped out of me as I thought what might have been had I succumbed to my younger self’s urges. Would it have been any worse than where I landed? It was hard to say. I knew of my inclinations toward men long before the apothecarian’s proclamation. Considering the nature of my attractions had been made public without my consultation, there was little choice in the matter. Had I followed the path of male-female relationships, would I have been raised differently?
What a ridiculous notion. I glanced up at the clock in Dr. Perrin’s office. There weren’t enough hours in the day to convince me a woman might make me a better long-term partner.
I looked around, wishing this appointment would end soon. Were I not in Marisol, sitting inside the doctor’s office would be beneath me, but since it had been explained to me repeatedly how I was no longer a Deilian noble, I knew I needed to purge such ingrained prejudices.
The doctor, however, did little to ease me into this visit.
Appearing near Rother in age, he wore a dark green vest and trousers with his sleeves rolled back to his elbows. A white apron, tied around his neck and waist, protected his clothing. It reminded me of the type worn by butchers. What exactly did he think I would allow to happen here? Slender of build with an awkward demeanor, he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his sharp nose every few minutes as he performed his task. His flat expression bore little more excitement at my presence than the apothecarian five years ago. Although Dr. Perrin appeared more twitchy and uncomfortable than bored.
Deep down I knew doctors and apothecarians were not of the same ilk, but I couldn’t stop thinking of them as incestuous cousins. They each resided in offices filled with torturous devices used under the guise of what was for your own good. I’d had my fill of acts performed in my best interest. The procedures were outside my experience and left me on edge.
Dr. Perrin had reflected light in my eyes, placed cold listening devices against my neck and chest, and took readings off the foreign contraptions he strapped to my arm. His pen, scratching notations onto his chart, grew more unnerving as he continued. The series of macabre medical illustrations framed on the wall were not helping.
“What are you writing?”
Dr. Perrin didn’t look up. “Just a few notes. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“How do you make that assumption while you prod and poke me?”
It was annoying how he refused to answer my question. Was ignoring your patient a common practice with doctors and apothecarians both?
Sitting on his examination table, with my sleeve rolled up high and my shirt collar wide open, I waited. His testing to this point had been annoying but benign. However, if he felt obliged to use the nightmarish tools spread out on the nearby tray, I would find my own way out. Glancing at the door connected to the waiting room, I’d never wished for Blythe to be next to me more, rather than the other side. Even if he would be making endless vulgar remarks in an effort to embarrass me.
Once he removed the devices from my arm, I cringed as the doctor further unbuttoned my shirt and opened it wider, nearly pushing it over my shoulders. I didn’t see the need to be so exposed to examine my neck. Was this my stifled Deilian reserve rearing itself, or was I sensing foul play? Becoming jaded at the ripe age of twenty was a sad thing.
With his bony fingers, he touched along my jaw, nudging my head back for a better view of the burn. If I didn’t enjoy his touch before, the contact to the brand nearly made me bolt.
“Sit still.” Dr. Perrin stank of sour sweat as he leaned in closer for a better view.
It was an effort to unclench my fist. “It’s still tender.”
“As it should be. This kind of burn could take between four to six months to fully heal.”
“And how is it healing?”
“As well as can be expected.” His head bobbed in a tight circle as he scanned the burn. “No sign of infection and the letters should be quite distinct.”
I deflated. “So you’re saying… the mark will never go away?”
“Are you surprised by that?” A furrow formed between his brows. Did he not understand the brand wasn’t made with my permission? Couldn’t he see that from the first time six weeks ago?
I didn’t answer. The foolish thread of hope I’d clung to snapped and recoiled out of my grasp. I’d prayed it wouldn’t leave a permanent scar, even though I guessed otherwise.
Rolling his fingers against each other in a nervous manner, Dr. Perrin pressed his lips into a tight line as he stood taut, perhaps deciding what came next. The monotonous pause ended with a clearing of his throat.
“Take off your clothing.”
I paused and pierced him with a stare. “Excuse me?”
“I said for you to undress.”
“My hearing is perfectly fine, doctor. Why is that necessary?”
“I need to do a complete examination.”
Skepticism seeped around the edges of my patience. “That’s not the purpose of this visit.”
“To provide you the best medical care, I need to be more thorough. I’m not finished yet.” Dr. Perrin’s voice held a faint tremor, but he maintained his stance on the subject.
“You are unless you can give me good reason why I should let you continue.”
“It’s in your best interests.”
“This is over.” I scanned the room, confirming my jacket’s location so I could gather myself and leave.
“Sir, I can assure you. I am a professional. My findings are completely confidential.”
“Dr. Perrin, I may be young, but please stop talking to me like I’m stupid. I am well aware that my husband doesn’t do regular business with anyone unless he lords some kind of secret over them.” I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes as I examined him in return. “Are you a client of Delaga House? I think I’ve seen you there. You look familiar enough. I can only imagine what deviance he’s allowed you to indulge in and promised to ignore for your services.”
He pushed his glasses farther up his thin nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hymn of the guilty.” I snorted in disbelief. “Doctor, this is how he manages everyone in his service. Dignitaries and officials, you’re all under his heel. Every one of you has something precious to lose, and he takes full advantage when he needs to. Your situation isn’t unique. This mark on my neck, this is how he holds me in place. Rother has no decadent secrets to blackmail me with, so he marked me. This way, if I wander off, he can send men in authority, whom he controls, to bring me back. We are all the possessions of Lord Rother Marsh Delaga III. This appointment was his idea. Your promise of confidentiality is meaningless to me.”
“You are an insolent boy.”
“No, I’m an annoyed young man whose time here is complete. Good day, sir.”
I hopped off the table and reached for my effects, unwilling to step outside with my clothing in this state. The whole appointment was made to appease Rother, but its current direction shook my ability to smother my unease.
The doctor snatched
my wrist, which set off a level of offense I hadn’t seen in myself in months.
“I haven’t released you yet.”
Being the smallest of three brothers, I’d taken a fair amount of abuse as a child until I learned to defend myself. I didn’t excel in fisticuffs. Unable to overpower my brothers, I’d honed my skills more in the direction of survival. I exploited their soft spots, much to my parents’ chagrin.
A quick kick to the knee startled Dr. Perrin, and smashing his forearm with my fist released his grip. I was furious enough to strike him across the bridge of his nose with the back of my hand. His spectacles flew off, and he staggered backward, upending the tray of medical implements and devices with a clatter.
The door burst open and Blythe rushed in. “Nathan, are you all right?”
“This is a private examination. Leave at once!” Dr. Perrin shouted through his hand, covering his nose and mouth. The whole thing was so absurd.
Blythe spun an angry glare at the doctor, then at me, making a clear assessment of how my unbuttoned shirt hung off my shoulder, open halfway down my chest. I could only imagine his thoughts.
With a roar, he pounced on the doctor, taking him to the floor. Pinning him with his bulk, Blythe surrounded the doctor’s head with both meaty hands. I wondered if he planned on popping it off like a cheap doll. It didn’t take long to decide it might be prudent to redirect that possibility.
“Blythe! I’m fine.”
“Unhand me! You’re interfering with my work!” The high pitch of Dr. Perrin’s voice belied any dignity he’d managed to collect. Blythe held his quaking body fast. “I’ll report this at once!”
Blythe wasn’t fooled for a second. “He’s not angry. He’s scared I caught him.”
“No…. He’s been acting like this from the start.” I thought back over the entire appointment. Dr. Perrin had been agitated from before I arrived. “He’s not scared of me, but Rother? I think so.”
“Y-you can’t leave. My work isn’t finished.”
Everything began to make sense. “Yes it is. Rother demanded the full examination, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I huffed in disgust. “Every time you lie to me, you say the same phrase. Blythe, put out his eyes.”
Still gripping the doctor’s head, Blythe placed his thumbs over Dr. Perrin’s eyes. “Sorry, Doc. Nice seeing ya.”
Dr. Perrin began to shriek. “No! Lord Rother requested a complete physical!”
“I thought so. What was he looking for?” I straightened my shirt and worked to make myself decent. Whimpering trickled to my ear. Blythe’s thumbs were still in place. “I’m waiting, doctor.”
“Physical evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Your fidelity.”
Blythe reminded me how fearsome he could be with one snarl. “Explain, Doc, or I’m going to find the back of your skull.”
Dr. Perrin began to cry. “He… he wanted proof there hadn’t been any… recent liaisons of a carnal nature.”
“You must be joking.” I paused at my collar. Translating the confession required all my attention.
Halting gasps wracked the doctor’s thin form. “He insisted.”
I should have been incensed. Rother knew I hadn’t left Delaga House in weeks. He knew I’d sequestered myself from everyone, and he still doubted. The very concept was appalling, but I could only empathize with the doctor, a man who found himself trapped by my husband’s hand. I couldn’t even find it in myself to care what Rother knew to indebt him so severely. Blythe released him and stood by my side, slightly in front of me. The doctor posed no more threat. He was so distraught, one wrong push and the man would crumple.
“I don’t know what leverage Rother holds on you, but I can save you a great deal of trouble. Just write down you found nothing.”
“You want me to falsify my work?”
I cocked my head, trying to grasp his meaning. Did Dr. Perrin adhere to his work standards in spite of Rother’s influence? The doctor’s conviction impressed me in some backward way. Could he hold on to a piece of his soul while being damned into service? Perhaps not all of Rother’s victims were hopeless causes. Including me.
“It’s not a lie. You can maintain your professional standards, and I can keep from being violated.” Blythe raised a brow and passed me a dirty grin. “Not one word out of you.”
MY EARS delighted in the sound of my shoes scuffing along the cobblestones. I was nowhere near Delaga House, and the rhythmic footfalls echoing in the street heightened the illusion of freedom. A myriad Marisolians bustled along, giving us little notice beyond shifting aside for Blythe’s mass. He walked close, the occasional brush of his sleeve promising me safety in this sea of strangers.
“You didn’t have to barge into the doctor’s office.” I nodded to the fruit vendor as we passed.
“Wasn’t going to take the chance.”
“I had everything under control.”
“It’s my job.”
A pair of older women were selling carnations from a rickety wooden cart. They pitched their wares to every person within reach, not treating me with any more attention because my clothes might mark me as wealthy. We were part of the crowd. No better or worse than any other man or woman sharing the street.
“And you do it well, but I don’t need you to save me.”
“Some people are worth saving.”
“Thank you. But I need you to trust me to save myself sometimes.”
“No.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“You like me. Admit it.” Blythe bumped me with his shoulder and the clod nearly sent me sprawling into a group of oncoming gentlemen. I dodged at the last moment and prevented an awkward accident.
I gave Blythe a retaliatory shove. “No. You’ll read too much into it.” Barely fazed, he snickered for another block. I refused to speak to him again until he contained himself. It might have been fractured these days, but I had my pride.
A soft breeze brushed through my hair, and I relished the relaxed style I’d worn since coming here. Deilian coiffure was a rigid affair, like all aspects of our appearance. I couldn’t picture my mother’s hair ever blowing in the breeze. Such a waste, when so simple an experience could be so rewarding. Another item to balance out the bad in my life.
“Thank you for walking with me.”
“Thought you’d like the fresh air.”
“I do.”
My first steps in Marisol had been filled with undeserved class distinction. The common folk disturbed me, so I held my Deilian title before me like some mythical shield. As if I could be tarnished by kind people. Now they noticed me no more than anyone else, and that made my heart a touch lighter.
“You spent too much time hiding. It worried me.”
“It worried me, too, but I couldn’t stop.”
“Are you doing better now?”
“I think so. I can think about everything that happened and not lose my mind.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it.”
“You had no reason to know. Everyone in the house was shocked. Did you ever suspect he could be so cruel?”
“Not like this. I mean, Rother’s a bastard, but he’s never gone so far before.”
“Lovely. I’m what drives him to madness.”
At least my sarcasm had survived the night in the punishment room, although it had taken on a darker edge even I couldn’t deny.
“I’m sorry I didn’t defend you better.”
I brought us to a sharp halt and spun to face Blythe, placing my hand on his firm chest to will away his deafening guilt. “You couldn’t. You know that as well as I do. When you start to doubt it, remember you can’t protect anyone hanging from the end of a noose.”
A charge grew under the swell of Blythe’s chest, sending his pulse into my palm. I had the urge to close the gap between us as our eyes stayed fixed on each other. The connection I found glistenin
g in their dark depths was too raw, too potent to explore. When had the jagged scar on his face turned into a mark of character? Blythe’s hand rose, as if to cover mine, but stopped, returning to his side. I didn’t have to see my skin to know it flushed. Too many sensations flooded my skull, forcing me to break our connection. Pulling back, I resumed our walk and Blythe fell right into step beside me once again, without another word.
I calmed my errant breathing as we trod along. The silence growing between us was more awkward than I could bear. “At least you could take care of Harston. How is he?”
“He’s good. I set him up working at a hotel a few blocks from here. It’s no palace, but it’s honest work and he can make a living. Mrs. Fiesch, the old widow who owns it, will treat him right.”
I was thankful Blythe couldn’t see the remorse in my eyes as I choked out a half whisper. “Is… is he angry with me?”
“What for?”
“I dragged him away from everything he knew when I married. He didn’t have to come with me. Now look what’s happened.”
“The last time I stopped in, I asked him if he was sorry he followed you out here. He said no. From what he told me, he wanted to come. You didn’t force him.” Blythe laughed. “As if you could. Harston’s not pissed at you. Only Rother.”
The spark of relief made me swallow part of my fractured conscience. If Harston hated me…. I decided to accept Blythe’s admission as fact. It was easier than the alternative.
“You’ve spoken with him recently? Can we visit him?”
“Not now. We’ve been out here awhile. We better head back. Rother was real specific. I don’t want to give him any… reasons to….” I could hear the struggled phrasing. Mincing careful words to spare my feelings was new. Perhaps Blythe had changed as well.
“You don’t have to finish that sentence. I know what you’re saying.”
Before we had to reverse our path, I took a last, slow sweep of the boulevard. Marisolians continued to move around us, oblivious to my issues. Our presence didn’t interrupt their ventures or create the sad reverence I used to witness by Deilian commoners falling over themselves to get close to noblemen. Being ignored brought me a sense of belonging. They saw me as an equal part of their world, no more significant than any other person to disturb their business. At least that’s how it made sense to me. Some people sought only to rise above the common and would find such change offensive. In my case, it fortified me, eroding my class prejudices composed of arrogance and breeding. A flimsy architecture. It pleased me to see the foundation crumbling.
Innocence and Carnality Page 20
