“And here I thought I’d enlisted your help for your observational abilities. You know medicine too?”
Seleste smiled coyly. “Not a great deal, but I know some about herbs and natural remedies from Sorscha, and I did read John Allard’s Treatise on Common Diseases.”
Cal’s jaw went slack, feigning shock. “You what?” He laughed outright, and far too loudly for their secrecy. Putting a hand to his heart as if he’d been shot with an arrow., he said, “Woe is me, my heart cannot handle the perfect specimen before me.”
Seleste laughed, pushing him in the shoulder. “Oh, stop!” This man was sunshine, goodness, and everything right with the world. “There are serious matters at hand.” But they were both still grinning as he bent over his textbook and pulled out a bundled sheaf of notes.
“Those symptoms do not usually go hand in hand, no. But—” He held up a finger, sounding more like a professor than a man searching for what ails his father. “Certain liver conditions, which cause the whites of the eyes to turn yellow, can cause increased pressure in arteries leading to the lungs, or fluid buildup around the lungs. Both of which could, if left untreated, cause ruptured vessels and blood could expel when the patient coughs.”
“Interesting,” Seleste mused. Studying his notes intently, she felt something was missing. Something she couldn’t quite grasp yet, but her cunning would. “Would you be able to arrange a meeting for me with your father? Perhaps to discuss the girls’ progress?”
“I’m certain I could. What are you thinking?”
“I’m not quite ready to say for sure, but I think I might have a way to help him if what you’re saying is correct.”
Moonlight seeped in through the open window, curtains fluttering in the breeze and giving Cal’s milky skin a pink glow. Seleste watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, relishing every moment with him.
Summer would be at its end in a fortnight, the Bardots returning to Merveille or their estate in Bellvary, and Seleste would return to her isle to prepare for the Autumnal Equinox.
Perhaps she truly could return with them to the city and be the girls’ governess. Lady Della would never approve, but if they could help the earl get better, perhaps his wishes could override his wife’s trepidation. Seleste wouldn’t be able to stay there forever, perpetually young and hiding her magic in such a populated place, but they could have more time. Some, at least.
She bent to plant the whisper of a kiss on Cal’s forehead and rose to collect her charcoal pencil and notebook. As soon as the sun rose, they would need to begin collecting what was necessary for the earl’s remedy. Despite still needing to meet with him to be fully certain, she was growing more sure with each passing moment. Having everything prepared already would save that much more time.
Charcoal and notebook in hand, she sat on the edge of the bed, looking over her shoulder at Cal’s sleeping form again. She’d have to wake him soon, so he could return to his châlet before one of the maids showed up with his morning tea.
Something orange caught her eye and she turned to look in her lap, only to find Litha fluttering down to land on her wrist. “Hullo, sweeting,” she cooed at the butterfly cloaked in magic only she could see through. But Litha seemed agitated, her wings opening and closing in distress. “What is it?” Her antennas curled in and out, out of time with the movement of her wings. “Litha, tell me what’s the matter.”
The great monarch lifted from Seleste’s arm, gliding over to the armoire. She hovered there until Seleste opened it, eyeing the butterfly.
“What is it?”
Just as she had done before, Litha came to rest on the bag concealing the Grimoire. An uneasiness that began at the crown of her head poured down over Seleste’s shoulders, settling in her stomach. Aggie might have had cause to tremble before the ancient Book, but Seleste never had. Neither had Litha. But there was an unseen fissure in the air. A rift in peace that only the most intuitive of souls could sense. Something wasn’t right.
She snuck a look over her shoulder at Cal. He was still sound asleep, emitting the slightest of snores.
“Lumiére.”
Her golden orb of light blinked to life within the armoire, and Seleste climbed in, letting the door hide her from the view of the bed, just in case Cal awoke. Litha settled on her shoulder, and Seleste pulled out the Grimoire. With a deep, settling breath, she opened it.
Seleste didn’t know what she’d expected, but it was not the harsh, clipped handwriting of Talan. No golden script dotted with shimmering butterflies from Monarch. There, scratched into the parchment in angry black letters, was more to her Order.
Prepare the following potion for the future Earl of Bellvary, and ensure its contents are consumed in their entirety.
Seleste’s stomach soured at the sight of the ingredient list.
Cayenne
Black pepper