“She was so young.” Tawny lowered her hand to her lap. “And she had so much to look forward to.”
I reached out with my senses and found that her sadness echoed my own. It wasn’t the deep pain of loss that came when it was someone you knew, but the sorrow that accompanied any death, especially such a senseless one.
Rylan asked Vikter to step outside. After a few moments, Tawny excused herself to return to her room. I managed to stop myself from touching her. I knew if I did, I would take her pain, even though I’d done it before without her realizing. I ended up at the window, staring at the steady glow of the torches beyond the Rise when Vikter reentered.
“Thank you,” he said as he joined me by the window. “The ache in my head was starting to get the best of me.”
“Glad I could help.”
“You didn’t have to. I have the powder the Healer made for me.”
“I know, but I’m sure my gift brought you much faster relief without the dizziness and sleepiness,” I said. Those were only two of the many side effects that brownish-white powder often caused.
“That is true.” Vikter fell quiet for several moments, and I knew his thoughts were as troubled as mine.
I had a hard time believing that it had been a Descenter, even though I imagined something like an ice pick could’ve made those wounds. However, the possibility of stabbing someone in the jugular and not getting blood everywhere seemed very unlikely, but even more baffling was the motive. What did creating those types of wounds indicate that was of any benefit to their cause? Because the only thing I knew that could make those kinds of wounds went against everything the Descenters believed in.
“Rylan spoke to me.”
I looked over at Vikter with raised brows. “Yes?”
His sea-colored gaze flickered over my face. “Rylan told me about Lord Mazeen.”
My stomach sank as I looked away. It wasn’t as if I had forgotten my run-in with the Lord, but it simply wasn’t the most concerning or traumatic thing to have happened in the last couple of hours. “Did he do anything, Poppy?” he asked.
A suffocating, stinging heat crept into my face, and I pressed my cheek to the windowpane. I didn’t want to think about this. I never did. Nausea churned, and there was this…weird embarrassment that made my skin feel sticky and dirty. I didn’t understand why I felt that way. I knew I’d done nothing to gain the Lord’s attention, and even if I had, he was still in the wrong. But when I thought about how he felt entitled to touch me, I wanted to scratch at my own skin.
And I didn’t want to think about how I’d been grateful for the servant’s screams, having no idea what the cause had been.
I pushed all of that aside so it could later come to the forefront, most likely when I was trying to sleep. “He did nothing other than be an annoyance.”
“Truthfully?”
I nodded, although that seemed a little too far from the truth, but I was okay with lying. What could Vikter do with the truth? Nothing. He was smart enough to know that.
A muscle throbbed in his jaw. “He needs to leave you alone.”
“Agreed, but I’m able to handle him.”
Kind of.
I didn’t really want to think about how close I came to doing something utterly unforgivable. If I had unsheathed my dagger and used it, there would have been no hope for me. But, gods, I wouldn’t have felt a drop of guilt over it.
“You shouldn’t have to,” Vikter replied. “And he should know better.”
“He should, and I think he does, but I don’t believe he cares,” I admitted, turning so I rested against the ledge of the window. “You know I saw her in that room. I saw how she was…left. It made me think that she was with someone, either willingly or not.”
He nodded. “The Healer who looked at her body believed there had been some level of physical relations before her death, but he didn’t find any signs that she had been fighting. No dried blood or skin under her nails, but no one can be sure.”
I pressed my lips together. “I was thinking that it wouldn’t make sense for a Descenter to leave wounds like that, even if they were able to do it without it being…messy. What kind of message does that even send? Because the only thing that can do what was done to her is…”
Vikter’s gaze met mine. “An Atlantian.”
Relieved that he said it and not me, I nodded. “The Duke has to know that. Anyone who saw those wounds would have to think that and question why a Descenter would mimic something that could easily be attributed to an Atlantian.”