When dessert was taken away, and the table in the middle of being
cleaned from where Elspeth had flung pudding everywhere, Artemisia
tried to make her escape.
“Arte.”
She turned slowly, still with her hand on the doorknob.
“Yes, father?”
“Join me in my study.”
“Yes, father.”
He’s probably just going to ask how I’m doing, again. But why
does that mean going to his study? Can’t he just ask a few
questions in the hallway like a normal person would?
Maybe there’s something serious he needs to talk to me about.
What if he’s suspicious about me? No, that would be stupid. There’s
no way he’s going to have jumped to the conclusion that an imposter
has taken over his daughter’s body… right?
The door to Hesperus’ study closed with an ominous thud. It was a
dim, suitably imposing room, with a grand desk and tall windows
behind it. The duke stood silhouetted against the darkening sky, and
Artemisia resisted the urge to run.
He’s a scary guy, especially with that scar above his eye… I
wonder where he got it.
“You seem a lot more stable now.”
“Huh?” Artemisia jerked to attention.
“You know, during that week you were unconscious, we were afraid we
might lose you.” The duke turned to look out of a window, his voice
not betraying any feeling. “The doctor thought you had died at one
point.”
“Really?”
“And then you woke up having lost
your memory, talking nonsense… I was worried the shock had turned
you mad. It seems you’re
well on the road to recovery, though.”
“Um, father?”
“Yes?” He still didn’t turn.
“Do you know what happened? All I know is that they found me by the
lake.”
Hesperus sighed. “No, not really. We all went out to watch the
meteor storm, you and Topher had an argument, and then you stormed
off. When you hadn’t returned an hour later, we went looking for
you, and found you by the lake. That’s all. We were hoping you
would be able to tell us when you woke up, but, obviously, that isn’t
the case.”
“I see… Topher and I fought? What about?”
“I don’t know,” Hesperus replied, shrugging. “He wasn’t
keen to talk about it, and then it stopped being a priority after you
fell ill. I wouldn’t worry. Last time you two fought it was because
you refused to dance with him at a ball – your clothes clashed,
apparently.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
part from arguing with Christopher, there’s no new
information there. Artemisia’s collapse is still a mystery.
I wonder what the two of us fought about, though.
“Well, anyway.” Hesperus moved to his desk and lit an oil lamp,
before dragging a chair over so Artemisia could sit opposite him. “I
need to speak to you about a few things.”
“Alright.” Artemisia sat. “What sort of things?”
Hesperus placed his elbows on the desk, interlaced his fingers and
furrowed his brows. “We’re tracking down who let it slip, but
rumours about your accident have spread outside the estate. There’s
been a letter inquiring about your health from the der Waals, and if
they know,” he paused to scoff, “then surely it will spread.”
I remember the der Waals from the list of nobles Elise gave me.
The head of house is currently Marchioness Priscilla, if I remember
correctly.
He’s looking at me. Does he want me to say something? I assume
this is a bad thing? This has to be a bad thing.
“This won’t be good for our reputation, I suppose,” Artemisia
ventured carefully.
The duke waved a hand dismissively. “What do you mean? We’re not
the type to be shaken by a little accident. I simply wanted to warn
you that people might start sending you sympathy letters, and not to
react too harshly, please.” A hint of desperation entered his tone
at the end of his sentence, indicating this was something Artemisia
had done before.
“I understand. Thank you for letting me know, father.” Artemisia
made to leave.
“Arte, wait. There’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
Hesperus twiddled his thumbs, apparently looking for the right words.
“There’s something I’d like to ask of you, but you might not
like it.”
“What is it?” Artemisia pursed her lips.
Admittedly, she had barely spent any time around the duke, but he
seemed uncharacteristically nervous, eyes darting around the room.
What is he going to say? Why is he so anxious about it? Ahhh, he’s
making me
“Would you be open to meeting with a witch? I know a young person
like you will probably think I’m talking nonsense, but I’d like
to get you checked over for curses. I’m just worried that your
accident and memory loss could have been caused by something… more
nefarious.”
“What?”
Hesperus blanched. “You don’t
have to! And if you do, it will be an absolute secret. Nobody has to
know except the two of us, if you would so prefer. But
would you at least consider it, for my sake?”
magic
in this world??? Magic???? Oh my god. I can’t believe it. This
really is a fantasy world. But how come nobody’s brought it up
before now. I want to learn about magic! Can I become a mage?
Wait, if nobody’s brought it up before now, that probably means
it’s a really rare thing. Is this a low magic setting? Oh, come on!
That’s so boring, author! Either go ham on the magic, or just don’t
have it at all!
“Artemisia?”
She blinked, realising Hesperus was waiting for an answer.
“Oh, that’s absolutely fine, father. I don’t mind at all.”
“You… don’t?”
“Nope!” She probably sounded a little too jovial, but Artemisia
couldn’t hide her excitement at the thought of seeing magic.
Judging from Hesperus’ dumbstruck expression, he was not
expecting me to be chill with that at all. The original Artemisia
must have been a real terror when she got angry if her own father has
to tiptoe around her.
“Is that all?”
“Um, yes, yes it is. I’ll contact the witch and let you know when
she’ll arrive.” Hesperus sighed and leaned back in his chair, a
massive weight seemingly lifted from his shoulders. He raised a hand
to his face. “Go on, be off with you.”
As Artemisia left the room, she swore she heard him mutter, “I need
a drink.”
