Chapter 4

Nerissa POV

"I'm not moving," I whispered. "I'm barely breathing. Is that still too loud?"

"Your heart is too loud." His eyes didn't leave my face. "It's been going like a rabbit's since the hall."

"Yours isn't much better. I heard it jump every time I said something rude about your uncle."

"You said a lot of things about my uncle."

"You didn't stop me."

"I enjoyed it." He let go of my wrist slowly, as if he expected me to bolt, and tried to push himself up on his elbows. They shook. Something in his shoulder went krrk like kindling, and he said "Damnit" to the ceiling. "May I lean on you? Eight months in bed. My arms don't work."

"You're asking?"

"I'd rather ask."

I got a hand behind his back and hauled him up against the pillows. He weighed less than a man his size should, and he was hot, like a stove with the door open. "Water?" I said, looking at the jug on the table.

"Yes." It wasn't please. I had a feeling he didn't know how to say it. I held the cup while he drank, and a thin line ran down his chin, and he didn't seem to care. "Is there any more of that cake?"

"That's what you want? Out of everything?"

"I've been dreaming about fried onions since the Harvest Moon. Cake will do for now."

He ate what was left in three bites with his eyes shut, then licked honey off his thumb with an expression I'd have called holy on anyone else.

"Slow down," I said, too late. "You'll make yourself sick."

"I've been waiting since autumn for anything with sugar in it. Let me be sick,happy."

"How long have you been awake?" I asked.

"Three weeks, give or take. My wolf burned most of the poison out around the new moon, and I woke in the middle of the night with Dunstan reading me barley prices." He winced. "He cries sometimes. I'd rather not talk about it."

"Three weeks, and you didn't tell him."

"I didn't tell anyone. Somebody put a cup in my hand at the Harvest feast, and somebody's been feeding me that stuff ever since. Until I know who, I'm a very good sleeper." He nodded at the bowl. "I spit it into a rag under the mattress. Don't look."

"That's disgusting."

"It works."

"And the girls?" I said. "Nine of them."

"Something's on them." His voice went flat. "A smell, sharp and bitter. My wolf can't stand it. I smell it before the door opens, and by the time they're close he's already gone, and I can't stop him. I've tried." He looked at me. "You didn't have it."

"I had mud."

"You smelled like marsh water and mint and a carriage that needed cleaning. He walked right up to it."

"So somebody's rigging it."

"Somebody wants every girl rejected, and somebody's very good at it."

"What do you remember about the feast?"

"A toast. My uncle's hand on my shoulder. Wine that tasted like pennies."

"That sounds exactly like your uncle."

"That's what bothers me. Nobody that obvious has ever been that good." He rubbed his temple. "If I wake up in public, whoever did this has to finish me fast, and I don't know where to look. Right now they think I'm furniture."

"You could put Dunstan on the bowl."

"He'd cry on the evidence."

I sat there for a moment with my hands in my lap. "Hettie Doyle's arm is black to the shoulder," I said. My voice had gone flat too. "I watched them drag her across the floor, and you were awake for it."

"Two girls since I woke up. Hettie, and a redhead named Cora, two weeks ago. I heard every sound they made." He didn't look away. "Yes. I lay there."

"Are you insane?"

"If I move, I'm dead. Then the next girl is dead, and the one after. I'm not asking you to forgive it. I wouldn't."

"Good, because I won't."

"Good."

We looked at each other. The lamp hissed. Somewhere below us a door banged, and I realized I hadn't left the bed, which made no sense.

"Why am I still sitting here?" I said, mostly to myself.

"Because of your brother. And because you want to know who did it." He tilted his head. "Most people would have run to Dunstan. You tasted my dinner."

"I tasted it to find out what was in it."

"Exactly."

"Don't act like you know me."

"I know you hate my uncle and you'd feed Tobias something to make him regular. That's more than I know about most of the Council." The corner of his mouth moved. "May I? Your wrist. My wolf wants to know you aren't wearing it. He doesn't believe me."

I held it out. He didn't touch it. He bent his head close and breathed in, and a low rumble started in his chest, so deep I felt it through the mattress, like a house cat that weighed four hundred pounds.

"Is that purring?"

"He doesn't have a word for it. Neither do I." He sounded mortified. "Don't tell anyone."

"Who would I tell? Dunstan?"

"God, no. He'd cry on me."

I laughed, which was a mistake, because it made me look at his face, and his face was looking right back at me.

"You told me your wolf was shy," he said. "I don't think she's shy. I think she's hiding. Mine keeps pulling toward you like a dog on a leash."

"I don't have a wolf worth mentioning."

"Then it's a very strange coincidence."

"Tell me about the boy," he said after a moment. "Tobias."

"Why? So you can break his hands?"

"If I could stand up, yes."

"I thought I loved him." I picked at my sleeve. "Turns out I loved the one I made up. The real one sold me for a job."

"And your father?"

"Picked Finn. I'd have picked Finn too."

"He still should have asked you," he said. "A man who sells his daughter because he's scared has still sold her."

"That's very harsh."

"It's also true. You can forgive him anyway. Those two things don't cancel out."

"Madam Vane sits with me most nights," he said, lower. "She holds my hand and tells me about her day. If she comes in, you don't say a word. I'd hate to scare her."

"She's kind to you."

"She's the only one who is."

"Then I'll keep my mouth shut." I stood, because standing seemed safer. "You didn't answer one thing. Who's behind it?"

"I don't know yet. I have four people who touch that bowl and one uncle who benefits. That's all." He rubbed his face with both hands. "Come back tomorrow night. Bring cake."

"That's your offer? Cake?"

"It's a start. Tomorrow I'll have terms. And thank you, for the cake and the water. I'm told I say it late." He caught my eye. "At court tomorrow, whatever happens, don't look at me."

"Why would I look at you? You'll be asleep."

"Because my wolf's been answering you since the hall, and he doesn't know how to lie."

Boots rang on the stairs, fast, heavy. His eyes shut in the middle of a breath, and his whole face went slack, as if somebody had pulled a plug.

"Girl?" Dunstan shoved the door open. "I heard a noise."

"That was me," I said. "I sing when I'm nervous."

"You were purring."

"I'm a very nervous singer."

He grunted and crossed to the bed. Then he stopped. He looked at the blanket, at the crumbs scattered across the prince's chest, and then at me.

"Girl," he said slowly. "Why is there cake on the prince? And why is the room warm?”