Page 167 of Ashen Torment
The low branches of Ebonwood lash the air as we pass.
Étoile moves forward without hesitation, he senses my tension and absorbs it, as he always does. Richard rides Lily to my left. He holds the reins with ease, his torso relaxed, his gaze wandering among the trunks.
“Finally, you’ve managed to grant me a little of your time, Viscount.”
“Forgive me, Richard. I have been occupied beyond measure.”
He offers a faint smile and slows his horse by half a pace to match Étoile.
“I can imagine. Nathaniel does not have an easy life, and he is not alone. You, on the other hand, must hold everything up without a shoulder to lean on.”
A leaf brushes my sleeve, I do not flinch. We proceed a few more meters.
“Tell me,” Richard resumes, “what happened then, that day?”
My hand slides along Étoile’s neck.
“Nothing,” I reply. “Shortly after, I left as well.”
Richard tilts his head slightly to the side, observing a puddle that reflects the shattered sky.
“A real deluge came down that evening.”
“Yes.”
Richard observes me.
“You look tired,” he says finally. “And... you seem flushed.”
Fucking Lord, him and his—
“I am,” I reply. “Tired, I mean. I have been occupied with the affairs of the estate.”
We resume our pace; the branches open for a stretch, letting a milky light filter through.
“Have you heard,” I add after a few moments, “that there will be a performance for Duke Durant’s Christmas ball?”
He straightens his shoulders, the reins tightening between his fingers.
“Yes. I’ve heard the names,” he pauses briefly. “You, Miss Duprés, Mr. Saint-Clair and Elijah.”
“Exactly.”
“I understand the three of you,” he comments, “but René Saint-Clair?”
A crease furrows his brow. “Is he not a painter?”
“He is. The Duchess desires a human composition.”
I turn my head toward him. His brows are still knit, and his gaze is fixed straight ahead.
“Richard...” I say softly. “Is there perhaps something troubling you? Sometimes, when you hear a certain name—”
“I don’t know,” he interrupts. “Believe me. I don’t—”
He clenches his jaw. “I don’t know.”
I reach my hand out onto my horse’s neck, feeling his warm breath beneath my fingers.
