Page 60 of The Shuddering City

“You could let her answer for herself.”

Madeleine tried to summon a convincing smile. “Indeed, it is very kind of you to make the offer,” she said. “But I’m not ready for country living, either. And now that I have my own personal guard, I feel safe enough in Corcannon. I do appreciate the thought.”

“If you change your mind—”

“I’m sure she won’t,” Tivol interrupted. “Let’s talk of other things! How was your trip? How long are you staying?”

They struggled through a few minutes of polite conversation before a servant entered with refreshments. At the center of the tray was a large, lumpy loaf of brown bread, its thick crust sprinkled with silvery seeds. It was a traditional menu item in Marata, and Tivol’s favorite dish.

“You brought some cardu!” Tivol exclaimed. “You really do love me!”

“The cook is the one who thought of it,” Heloise said.

“Well, shedoeslove me. Does everyone want some? I’ll slice it up.”

The tray came equipped with an alarmingly large serrated knife and three delicate china plates. Heloise poured glasses of water for each of them while Tivol attacked the cardu.

“That’s a tough crust,” he said, as the blade failed to pierce the top. “Here, Madeleine, can you hold the bread steady?”

“I should have had them prepare it in the kitchen,” said Heloise, watching with faint amusement as Madeleine ceremoniously set her hands on the two ends of the loaf. The crust felt hard as a clamshell beneath her fingers.

“Nonsense! Cardu’s at its best when it’s freshly sliced.” Tivol carefully placed the knife in the center of the loaf and used both hands to saw through it. “Success! Hold on to the left side while I whittle off a piece for you.”

Maybe Madeleine didn’t move her hands fast enough; maybe Tivol was just careless. But the blade slipped and the knife skittered over a heavy ridge of baked dough, and the serrated edge ripped a long gash through Madeleine’s thumb. She yelped with pain and jerked her hand back, putting her hand to her mouth to suck away the blood.

“Madeleine!” Tivol exclaimed, dropping the knife with horror. “Are you all right? Show me, show me! I didn’t cut your finger off, did I?”

“No, but Tivol, that hurts!” she replied. “How did that even happen?”

“I don’t know, but I shall never eat cardu again in my life. Here—let me see.”

He took her hand and cupped it in his own, right over the refreshment tray. More blood immediately welled up from the cut and dripped onto the cardu, which made Madeleine obscurely happy. Tivol made atskingsound and grabbed an embroidered linen napkin to wrap it around her injury.

Heloise had already rung for the servants to request salve and bandages. “How very ironic that we were just discussing how much safer you would be on my property in the country,” Heloise said. “Since I can’t even seem to guarantee your safety in my own parlor.”

“I’m beside myself with humiliation and remorse,” said Tivol. “Madeleine, my dear, my darling, can you forgive me?”

She was trying to be cheerful and nonchalant, but in truth, she wanted to start crying. “And to think that someone who hates me attacked me last night without doing me the slightest harm,” she said, trying to make a joke of it. “But someone who loves me says he wants to feed me, and suddenly I’m bleeding everywhere.”

Tivol tossed aside the soiled napkin and picked up a fresh one. “It doesn’t look that deep,” he said. “But you might get this tended to so it doesn’t get infected.”

“I’ll do that,” she said. “As soon as I get home.”

A maid arrived bearing gauze and antiseptic cream. In a few moments Madeleine was sitting in one of the white upholstered chairs, her thumb bandaged to comically large proportions, a plateful of cardu on her lap.

“I don’t think I can choke down a scrap,” Tivol said, staring at his own portion.

Madeleine had already had her first bite, so she could speak with conviction. “Nonsense. It’s how you get revenged upon it,” she said. “Besides, it’s very good.”

“Next time I am certainly having it sliced in the kitchen,” said Heloise. “But itisvery good.”

Tivol sighed and sampled his own slice. “Oh—an exceptional example of the art form,” he said with his mouth full. “It would be a shame to waste it.”

“My son,” said Heloise, a faint smile on her face. “Always practical.”

They labored through another fifteen minutes of conversation, but everyone seemed relieved when Madeleine rose to her feet and said she wanted to go home. “I don’t think I’m up for a visit to the gardens after all,” she said to Tivol as he stood beside her. “And I’ve got obligations all day tomorrow. Perhaps we can do something the day after?”

“Of course. I am at your disposal.”

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