Page 105 of Ashen Torment
A man like him does not easily grant any reaction.
And yet, that one escapes him.
Right in front of me.
Why am I pleased by this?
I look away, turning to the side under the pretext of checking the side table, so as not to contemplate my responsibility for that wound from too close.
“Forgive me, sir,” my valet murmurs, kind but inflexible. “It is necessary.”
Finally, he opens a small container and gathers a golden ointment on his finger. I watch the scene from the corner of my eye, unable to remain completely detached.
“What is that, Étienne?”
“A beeswax-based salve, Viscount. To prevent infection.”
Lord Dorian lets out a huff, not quite a sigh, more a restrained form of impatience.
“If I should wake up without a head,” he comments, “we shall know whom to blame.”
I stiffen slightly, my chest tightening in a way I have no desire to analyze.
“I offer you my apologies once again.”
He rises slowly.
“I do not desire your apologies, Viscount.”
Étienne takes a step back. “If you wish, my lord, I can escort you to your carriage.”
“Your servant is throwing me out,” he continues, completely ignoring my valet and turning toward me.
“Did you train him yourself, perhaps? Does everyone here know that my presence is unwelcome?”
I sense the anger mounting in him in the way his fingers clench and unclench, in the trembling of his nostrils, in that restless shifting of weight from one foot to the other.
“For what reason did you invite me, then?”
“You are rambling.”
Étienne tries to bring some order, but I see his slight irritation toward Lord Dorian.
“The Viscountess personally drafted the guest list.”
“Étienne.”
Dorian snorts, irritated. He brings two fingers to the bridge of his nose.
“All guests present are welcome here, Lord Vasiliev Ashford,” I specify.
“All guests...”
Étienne intervenes again, turning to me. “By the way, Viscount... the Viscountess was looking for you.”
I nod and move toward the exit. Before opening the door, I mutter, “I am grateful to you.”
Behind me, his footsteps stop.
