Page 43 of Ashen Torment

“What else?”

“The Viscountess’s health is stable, but... the doctor recommended against the excessive use of laudanum.”

I press the nail of my index finger against my thumb.

“Very well.”

She bows, ready to withdraw.

“Marie.”

She stops, turning slowly back toward me.

“Yes, Viscount?”

“Bring me some sugar and a small pot of boiling water.”

“Right away, Viscount.”

I wait for her to leave the room and open the book, I flip through the pages until I reach the third chapter. The edges are rippled, with irregular stains marring the page here and there.

The image of a fawn flashes through my mind.

I cannot allow that man to get inside my head.

Étienne’s footsteps interrupt my thoughts. The polished surface of the tray he carries trembles slightly as he sets it on the table next to the book.

“Leave, Étienne.”

He bows his head and closes the door behind him without so much as a creak from the hinges. I am left alone with the steam from the pot curling into the air, the surface of the water bubbling with a restless tremor. I take the sugar cube between my fingers and drop it in. The contact produces a faint crackling sound as the cube crumbles in the water, the sweet scent mingles with the dampness of the steam.

I stir slowly with the spoon, the water darkens, turning golden, then deeper, like liquefied honey. The narcissus on the tray seems whiter than usual today, its petals almost translucent. I pluck one and dip it into the hot liquid. The petal soaks slowly, the amber climbing up its surface. A few drops slide down my fingers, warm and sticky.

My gaze falls back on the first sentence of the open page.

“Narcissus was the son of the river god Cephisus and the nymph Liriope...”

I bring the petal to my lips, swallowing it whole.

I collapse onto the bed, the blue velvet yielding under my weight as my back sinks into the pillows. My hands clench around my stomach, a cramp twisting my insides and making me grit my teeth.

It will pass, as it always does.

A light knock interrupts the comforting silence.

“Viscount?”

My eyelids remain closed, fingers still dug into my abdomen. I hear a second, firmer knock.

“Pas maintenant, Étienne.”

“There is a guest for you, shall I send him away?”

At those words, I open my eyes slowly. “Come in.”

The door opens with a light click. Étienne peeks in.

“How are you—”