Page 51 of Their Blood Queen
I immediately recognize Duchess Rinhold and her son, the Earl. Irritation makes my beast growl as we land our gaze on the obstacle between us and Scarlett, but he’s engaged with his mother.
They’re in a closed room—what looks to be the back of a shop. The rarest magic tonics I’ve seen in this sector line the walls, so this must be one of the exclusive areas.
A clerk offers her a silver-encased box and opens it. The interior contains various vials stuffed into velvet slots.
Anti-aging elixirs.
“I’ll take three,” she says, frowning when the clerk slides her a piece of paper that must tell her the price.
She flicks her gaze up at him. “That has tripled from the last time I was here.”
“So has your order,” he says with polite regard. But a shopkeeper of tonics in the Magic Sector knows how to handle the Elites, even one as powerful as Duchess Rinhold. It’s her privilege that gives her the disadvantage here because he knows she can afford his price.
And, per the laws of my city, merchants must pay a quota on Monsters Night, too. Their annual tithe ensures they keep their stock attractive enough to afford business in my city. One stocking elixirs as desirable as the rare anti-aging tonic would have a high tithe indeed.
She glowers at her son as she closes the box. “We accept your price,” she tells the clerk, “but be mindful that I expect prompt delivery.”
The clerk gives her a low bow as he retrieves the box, no doubt to go into the back room to wrap it for her. A Duchess wouldn’t be expected to walk around with her purchases.
She waits until he leaves before she lays into her son.
“How many did you take, Edward?”
Oh, so he didn’t buy them himself? That’s interesting.
He gives her a raised brow. “Whatever do you mean, Mother?”
Shadows swirl around her in the Dream Realm, drawing my interest. I can hear Killian ordering another water. He’s patiently waiting for me to finish my snooping. He knows I have a tendency to lose myself in dreams.
In this case, though, I’m inside my Raven’s head while I linger in the Dream Realm. He’s my anchor, but the Duchess with nightmares dripping from her curls doesn’t seem natural.
An effect of too many anti-aging doses? I wonder. She looks far younger than her true age, and her eyes are unnaturally bleached—a telltale sign of magic addiction. Every human reacts to the magic differently, but I can’t say I’ve seen this sort of effect before, which has bled into the Dream Realm.
It reminds me of the shadows clinging to Duchess Nightingale’s eyes. Hers weren’t bleached, but there was something wrong about them. Nightmares had clung to her, too.
I make a mental note to research for a new sickness that could be plaguing my people. I normally let them manage themselves, and illness is all but eradicated in the Immortality Sector, but not an unusual occurrence in the others.
A plague, though, would not do.
“Did you give one to your new bride?” the Duchess asks, not buying his lie for a second.
He shrugs. “If you insist on pressing the matter, Mother, yes and no.”
“Yes and no?” she echoes with an edge of irritation in her voice.
He adjusts the cuff of his frilly shirt. “I gave it to her, but it wasn’t for her.”
She flicks her fan open and cools herself. My city can be warm during the day this time of year, hence the open window that let Bernard in. “Her mother’s illness is what made them desperate enough to accept the proposal in the first place, Edward. Is it wise to take away that motivation?”
He gives her a calculated glower. “Are you suggesting we leave an ailing woman to die when we can do something about it?”
Duchess Rinhold scoffs, then pauses and narrows her eyes. “Are you being devious, Edward? If her mother becomes addicted to it, that’ll require Lady Scarlett to procure more. It’ll put her in your debt.”
He seems irritated rather than pleased by her observation, making me question his motivations. “On the contrary, Mother. I told her the limit: no more than two drops per day. If she keeps to that, then she won’t be indebted to anyone.” He snatches up his sleeve and rolls it at his elbow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am late to escort my intended. I’ll see you at the fête, Mother.”
He leaves the room, and so does Bernard as he follows him.
I slip out of his mind and return to my lunch meeting with Killian. Although, I’ve lost my appetite.