Page 25 of The Study of Poisons
“To whom?”
“You.” Which meant he was married to his job and to Ixia as well. They were a package deal.
Ambrose pretended to be shocked. “I had no idea.”
“Clearly, or we wouldn’t have separate apartments.”
As intended, the Commander burst out laughing. The man really needed more levity in his life.
“I’m flattered, Valek. But I don’t date men.”
“Your loss.”
“I’m sure,” he said dryly. “All right. I’ll give Yelena a chance to prove her worth. But if she becomes too troublesome, I expect you to handle it.” His tone held no hint of his prior good humor.
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Valek changedinto a server’s uniform—white pants and shirt with a line of red diamonds down each arm—before stopping in the kitchen. He pulled his hair back into a short ponytail. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it was in the middle of the dinner rush and the kitchen would be chaotic.
As expected, no one gave him a second glance. He moved through the flurry of activity as if he belonged there. Rand’s rooms were adjacent to the kitchen and locked. He tried his master key. The cursed thing only worked a fraction of the time, but he was in luck and the door opened. Valek searched for the poison in the two small rooms—a living area and bedroom.
It didn’t take long. Rand’s possessions could fit into one large box. No bottle, so he left and relocked the door. Grabbing a tray of food to appear busy and to also give to Yelena, he did a circuit of the kitchen, scanning shelves and opening cabinets.
He spotted the blackberry poison sitting on a high shelf in a glass jar. The top of the other containers was coated with dust, which is why that jar caught Valek’s attention. Smart of Rand to leave it out in plain sight, yet it was high enough no one would mistakenly use it. There was nothing remarkable about the jar, so it would be an easy switch. Valek would need to come back another time for it.
Returning to his office, he changed back into his adviser’s uniform before taking the tray to his apartment. The living room was almost dark and quiet. Yelena must still be asleep in her room. Valek set the tray down and lit the first of the many lanterns hanging on the walls.
With the extra light, Valek spotted Yelena sleeping on the couch. Her journal was resting on her chest, rising and falling with each breath. He paused and took a moment to study her. Relaxed by sleep, she looked her age. When she worked with him, learning new tasting techniques, she seemed years older than nineteen.
The comment about her falling in love with the Commander had caused a strange…emptiness inside Valek. A new sensation. Along with that illogical bout of jealousy when he’d seen her with Rand. What was it about this woman that brought out all these unfamiliar emotions? As if his desire to protect her welled from some primal level deep inside him. Why?
Perhaps it was due to her beauty? Her oval face had lost some of its gauntness. And those eyes—wide and green with sparks of fire when angry. Lean, but not tall at four inches over five feet. Valek had met plenty of beautiful women and none of them ever stirred his soul.
Yelena gave him the impression that below the surface lurked an inner strength. She held her desires and secrets close to her heart and probably wouldn’t make friends easily. Perhaps it was the challenge of discovering all those secrets that drew him to her. That once he figured her out, she’d no longer appeal to him. Time would tell.
Valek returned to lighting the lanterns. A book slammed to the ground. He glanced over his shoulder. Yelena’s journal was on the floor, and she was sitting up. Letting her get acclimated to the unfamiliar surroundings, he kept working until all the lanterns were lit. The cheery glow might help relax her. He hadn’t considered his reputation when he decided to have her stay with him. She might be terrified.
However, when he turned around, she gazed at him with curiosity. “Something wrong with your room?” He picked up the tray of food and handed it to her.
“No. Couldn’t sleep.”
Valek snorted with amusement. She had a sense of humor. “I see.” He gestured toward the tray. “Sorry your dinner is cold. I was detained.”
She automatically performed the five S-steps and then glanced at him. Probably to gauge his reaction at her obvious distrust. But he was glad and hoped he’d instilled in her a life-long and life-saving habit. Eating as if she’d been starving, she asked him who else had a key to his suite.
“Just the Commander and Margg. Will that help you sleep better?”
She ignored his question, and asked, “Is Margg your personal housekeeper?”
Ah. The real reason for the worry. “Mine and the Commander’s. We wanted someone we could trust. Someone instantly recognizable. She was with us before the takeover, so her loyalty is beyond doubt.”
He hoped his explanation would allay her fears, and he sat at his writing desk with the intention of getting some work done. But he couldn’t resist giving her a lesson even though it had nothing to do with poison tasting. He swiveled to face her. “Remember when you were in the war room?”
Her eyebrows crinkled with confusion, but she nodded.
“There were three generals in the room. Brazell, you knew, but can you identify the other two?”
