And then there was an explosion of sound, my heart racing as I closed my eyes defensively. But I knew what it was, for I’d heard it many times before over the years: the sound of a crystal glass smashing against a wall.
“Oh la, you’re so dramatic,” Lady Cassandra said, her heels clicking on the floor, a harsh scraping sound jangling across my ears as she ground the glass underfoot. I heard the door open, then close as she left.
I was trembling in shock. Could hardly imagine that icy exterior of his cracking enough that he’d give in to such a barbaric impulse as throwing a glass. His sister, yes, but him? He was the definition of restraint. Of control.
Or so I’d thought.
No one spoke again, and once it seemed safe I moved from my place, eager to get home. As soon as I returned to the infirmary, I dissolved into a puddle of tears. From the antiseptic smell to the sight of the sheets blowing in the wind out the back door, the softness and comfort of that familiarity broke me.
I’d almost died. There had come a point where I had known I wasn’t getting out. I’d become too weak to move, to do anything besides breathe, and I’d felt so….no.
I’m not reliving it.
I made it back home, I was an emotional disaster, and even Hetty took pity on me and hugged me, tears sliding down her cheeks in relief that I was alive.
But when I told her that I’d been in the dungeons under the Marchant estate and that Lord Marchant himself released me, the wall came back. She sent me to my room to clean up and change, and I felt more alone in that moment than any I could remember.
And to think I hadn’t even told her what really happened! I didn’t tell her he gave me blood, or that I woke up in his bed. I didn’t tell her that he was to choose a Prime, and that his sister made reference to me.
The fact that Lady Cassandra knew me was terrifying. It might even be a death sentence. Was that why he threw the glass? Or was it because there was a very real possibility that his sister was right? Crazy, but right. Was House Marchant in danger? Was he negligent? I didn’t know. And I really didn’t want to.
But everything was just beginning.
10
All the girls and boys had to meet with the Council when they turn eighteen. Sometimes they were reassigned to different houses or given places if they weren’t yet working.
“I’m nervous,” I told Hetty as she helped me with the cream robe we were to wear when we went before the Infinite. She patted me lightly on the back.
“No need. It’s a formality. You’re my apprentice, everyone knows that. Go in, tell them that you’ve been with me since the age of five, give them my sworn paper stating that you’re apprenticed here, and you’ll be home before lunch.”
I ran a hand through my dark hair, twisting it into a rope and releasing it, a gesture I made when I was nervous or thinking. And in this case I was doing both.
“But what if they come up with another job for me? What if—“
Hetty interrupted me with a fierce look of exasperation that shut me right up. “Don’t be foolish. It’s a formality. Now go. Better to be early than late,” she said, and pushed me out the door. Fifteen minutes later, I stood outside the doors of the chamber with a growing sense of dread. My stomach was close to heaving, and I felt a little faint from hunger; I hadn’t been able to eat that morning due to nerves.
Minutes passed, and still I waited. How much longer would it be? Hetty had made it sound like it would be quick. So why was I still sitting out here?
The doors finally opened and a Council priest cloaked in dark robes ushered me into the chamber. I took a deep breath and made sure to walk slowly, hands clasped in front of me, head down demurely, back straight. I kept my steps silent, deploying all the appropriate manners I had been forced to learn over the years for when I was to appear before my betters.
“Halt,” said a deep voice and I stopped, waited for a command, my heart leaping into my throat. “You may show your gratitude for this audience,” the voice said. I curtsied low and deep, holding the pose until my thigh muscles trembled, then rose and adjusted my skirts.
“You may look upon the Council,” the voice said, sounding bored. I looked up, unsure what to expect, and had to bite back a gasp at the sight before me. Lights were placed strategically, illuminating the Infinite who were arranged above me in a half-circle, all of them on individual thrones. I recognized them all, and had even met some of them. But it was different to see them garbed in black, the lighting making them look pale and ethereal.
“Name?”
“Rebecca Finner,” I said, and was asked to repeat it more loudly.
“Are you currently working, Miss Finner?”
“Yes, my Lords. I’ve been working with Hetty Pierce in the infirmary.”
“And do you like that post?”
“I enjoy it, my Lord. It gives me great satisfaction to be able to help people.”
“Don’t you mean the Infinite? Your helping the people helps the Infinite, your Lords and masters,” one of the Infinite said, his voice coming from the right. I dipped into another curtsy before responding, turning so that I could see who spoke to me. Lord James from House Capor. He was not kind. Was he implying I didn’t want to help the Infinite?
Why did I feel like a trap was closing in?
“I live to serve, my lords.” I hoped that was a safe, vague enough answer.
“Discretion is an important part of a healer’s job,” someone said. “Hetty can be counted on not to gossip.” Silence. Was this a question?
“With respect, my Lord, I’ve been employed by Miss Hetty for over a decade. I’ve been seeing patients in their homes and treating them at the infirmary for several years, and I would never betray anyone’s trust.”
“You mean the trust of a Lord, don’t you?”
I kept my head down, curtsied again.
There was a loud, bored sigh.
“I’ve got to be out of here in five minutes, and it’s questions like this that have dragged out these meetings all morning. It’s clear the girl has been doing an adequate job. There isn’t anyone else stepping forward for the position. Approve her and let’s get on with it.” I knew that voice. I couldn’t help but risk a glance towards Lord Marchant, unsurprised to see him scowling at everyone. I hadn’t expected he’d be here, which was foolish of me. I blushed.
“Hear, hear,” Lord Dalmaine said in his booming voice. “Leave it to Lee to speak some sense. I’m starved.”
“All right, then,” Lord Marks said, and a gavel came down lightly on the table in front of him, a call to attention. “And is there any other claim upon her person?”
The doors suddenly opened, and a steward came in carrying papers before him like an offering.
“Speak!” Lord Hapin commanded. The messenger bent a leg in apology and moved forward, speaking softly enough that I had to strain to hear him.
“We have a last-minute request regarding the current candidate,” a steward said. My heart shifted in my chest, and I didn’t dare risk a glance at Lord Marchant. Instead, I looked all along the end of the committee. Not that their expressions told me anything. I looked down, curtsied again as a way of apologizing for this interruption that I had nothing to do with, and waited, my hands clenching nervously under the sleeves of my robe.
Lord Marchant jerked into motion, snapping his fingers suddenly. “Hand it here, and let’s see.” He sounded annoyed.
The steward handed him the papers. He looked at it for a moment, brow furrowed. “Do you know Mr. Charles Latimer?”
I swallowed. “Not really, my Lord. I believe he’s in charge of the docks?” He was a member of the Infinite, but not one of the High Lords. My dealings with him were limited, as the work down ay the docks wasn’t directly carried out by him, but rather supervised by him. From a distance. From his home.
“Well, congratulations, Miss Finner,” Lord Dalmaine said, voice bland. “This must be quite the welcome change in fortune for you. No longer to deal with the d
ead and dying, but to be a respectable Prime.” I risked a glance at him and saw him staring at me with curiosity, his chin resting casually in his hand. “That’s very peculiar, isn’t it? Doesn’t he know you deal with the sick?” he asked. No Infinite in their right mind would want me as a primary. If they fed from me, they would absorb any illnesses I had, and with my position I was the most exposed of anyone on the island besides Hetty.
“Wait. She’s already employed by the healer. We’ve just decided,” Lord Marchant said.
“Well, yes but, obviously the needs of the Infinite must outweigh the needs of the people. It’s any Infinite’s right to request a specific girl as a Prime,” said Lord Hapin.
“So long as we approve the request,” Lord Marchant said, a trace of warmth in his voice.
Careful, I thought, worried he sounded overly invested. Lord Dalmaine apparently thought the same thing, because he said, “If you’re very concerned about her, you could claim her yourself.” Was this it? What Cassandra had been saying? The trap springing as they tried to get him to choose a primary? But why me?
“I’ve not taken a Prime in decades. And I won’t be manipulated into starting now,” Lord Marchant said, voice deadly calm. “The current healer is not a young woman. To take her apprentice now and give her to Charles seems quite short-sighted.”
“I think I like it better when you’re not here, Lee.” Lord Dalmaine said, joking. Some of the others laughed while I stood there in numb terror. Surely this wasn’t possible. There was no way some Lord would choose me for his Prime, was there? I didn’t even know him! I didn’t come from a noble house, and I wasn’t trained.
“The rules are clear, Lee. This is how we’ve done it for centuries. Rule of law and all that. Are you saying you want to put the law aside for Miss Finner?” Lord Dalmaine asked, and even I understood there was danger in the lazy statement.
“What I’m saying is that placing Miss Finner with Latimer as a blood source deprives the people of a healer. When one of your people gets sick, and you have to wait for an old woman to hobble to your door or get sub-par treatment from some fresh-faced replacement, you can remember this moment as the cause,” Lord Marchant said, sounding bored.
Hapin sounded almost unenthusiastic. “All right then. Miss Finner is approved for consideration as Mr. Latimer’s Prime….And we are done for the day! Gentlemen. A pleasure,” And then the gavel rapped the table, ending the meeting.
What did that mean, I thought stupidly. Had that really just happened? I was no longer to be the healer? Who would take my place? Might I really belong to Mr. Latimer? I backed up towards the door, head down, mindful not to turn my back on my betters nor raise my head, which would have been considered rude.
And then I was in the hallway, the light brighter, the noise of chattering people overly loud. I needed to be alone, I needed to think. What was to happen to me now? I went straight home, needing to be away from everything, wanting to ask Hetty for advice. If she’d give it to me.
The smell of freshly chopped rosemary permeated the small cottage. The windows were all open, and a breeze and the scent together almost masked the smell of blood.
“Rebecca, I expected you back an hour ago. What kept you?” she asked. One look at my face, and her own crinkled in concern. She had the kindest eyes, I thought, rather randomly, although it was something I had always believed, that her sincere kindness radiated from her.
“Mr. Latimer asked for me at the last minute.”
A sharp inhale. “Was his request accepted?”
I nodded, head stiff on my neck. How could I even say it aloud? Make it real that way. “There was no one to say no. I’m…to be his primary?” I said, and it sounded so terribly wrong and weird that it came out like a question.
“Hetty, we need a moment,” Lord Marchant said from the doorway, and I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened.
She bowed and left, leaning heavily on a cane. Her hip was bothering her more and more lately. How would she make the rounds without me? There were days I went because she couldn’t. Who would do that now? I turned to face Lord Marchant, his expression severe as he watched me. He closed the door behind him but stayed next to it, not coming any closer to me.
“What is he to you?”
“Mr. Latimer?” I asked stupidly, because of course that was who he meant. He didn’t bother to confirm my question, just watched me, waited. I felt judged in that moment, totally inferior to him, and I didn’t know if I wanted to flee, smack him, or burst into tears.
“I’ve met him once or twice when I went down to the docks to help an injured worker,” I said, shrugging. “Once also when there was a brawl. But otherwise I don’t know him. He’s never given any indication that he noticed me or…”
He took a step towards me and I instinctively took a step back.
“No,” he said, softly, holding up a hand. And I stopped. I waited because that’s what I was trained to do. He moved to stand directly before me, close enough that I could see the weave of his pale shirt, that I had to look up to see his face. “Meet my gaze,” he commanded. There was only one reason he could want me to do that. I thought about arguing.
It wasn’t in me to argue against that tone of voice. My whole body trembled. I looked up, past the strong column of his throat, to his full lips, feeling heat spiral through me at his closeness. When my eyes met his, I felt it. Like being wrapped in a sheet that was hot from the sun. Like being startled when someone appeared unexpectedly. And the rest of how I felt…well, I couldn’t describe it. “Please don’t do this,” I begged. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
His pupils dilated as he watched me. “Answer truthfully. How do you know Charles Latimer?” I could almost feel the power of him, like ants crawling up my spine. I exhaled, calming myself, trying desperately to sound convincing as I answered him. “I’ve only met him a few times.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, and I almost screamed. He grabbed my chin, and I yelped. “Tell me you are not this reckless.”
“I don’t—“
“No lies,” he said, harshly, his hands suddenly on my arms, shaking me lightly, as if he’d knock the stupid out of me. “Damn it, Rebecca. Do you know how many of my kind would kill you for this? Tell me what you’ve taken.”
“Let go!” I said, and shoved away from him. “There is a recipe for it in one of the books. I didn’t even know if it was real.” It had really worked! Lord Marchant had tried to compel me and been unable to.
“Hetty told you to do this?”
“No! We have medical books, some of them very old, and there was one I always liked because it had such beautiful drawings. The spine was cracked, and when I opened it, the book always opened to this one page. Clearly other people had used it over the years, and so I thought…I just thought I would try it,” I said, aware that my voice got both fainter and more high-pitched with insecurity over having to explain myself. He was right, there were more than a few of his kind who would react violently if it was discovered that I couldn’t be compelled. It was insulting. Perhaps even treasonous.
I licked my lips, nervous.
“So you take a potion that most would consider unforgivable. Why?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the metal examining table, his harsh brows slashed downwards as he frowned at me and waited. “You are to serve. You’ve thwarted the Infinite’s dominion over you,” he said, gaze raking me up and down. “You’d better have a damned good reason.”
“I didn’t do it to…” I would have to tell him. “Hetty was like a mother to me. Whatever I said to you all those years ago…she hasn’t loved me since then.” My voice wobbled and I cleared my throat, buying a bit of time in hopes of sounding less like a tear-filled mess. “And she won’t tell me what I said to you. You won’t tell me what I said.” I laughed miserably, “I can’t even imagine what I could have said to you that destroyed my life so thoroughly! All I can do is make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Well, that backfired rather spectacularly. I want the truth. You can’t compel me anymore.”
I could practically feel his annoyance like a cool breeze on my skin.
“Tell me about Charles Latimer,” he commanded.
There wasn’t anything to tell. Would he believe that? An idea came to me, awful and poorly thought out, but it wasn’t like I had anything else to gamble with. “If you want me to tell you about Charles,” I said, claiming a familiarity that wasn’t there, “then you have to tell me what I said all those years ago.” Truthfully, I even shocked myself at such boldness. To propose a trade with Lord Marchant!
His expression was a sneer. “Charles, is it? And am I Leander to you?” he asked, his tone unreadable. “I could bleed your little tonic out of you. Would that make it worth your while?”
“You told me you didn’t remember, that it was a long time ago and unimportant, but I think that’s a lie.” My voice trembled.
He was silent for a long moment. “Fine. Stop taking your concoction, and when it’s out of your system, I’ll have you remember.”
“How?”
“It’s a compulsion, Miss Finner. I compelled you to forget. And so you have. The exchange is still there, somewhere in your mind, but it’s dormant. I can awaken that memory, since I took it from you. But only if you’re susceptible to my will.”
My arms crossed defensively over my chest and I saw his gaze dip down and back up, his jaw hardening. Had he really just checked me out? The room became overly warm in an instant. “I don’t need the memory. Just tell me.”
A half-smile.
“I’m no longer a child, Lord Marchant. I don’t worship you blindly like I did all those years ago.”
Remembered Page 10
