“Aren’t you going to ask me if Maura’s concerns are valid?” Quinn asked.
“No, I’m not. I know you’re here working the investigation and I’m not concerned about your intentions otherwise. I trust you.”
Quinn held her gaze for a few moments. She knew he had a reputation for holding his loyalty as an enforcer above the interests of the fae, but he’d proven himself to her. Maura could think what she wanted.
“Wait a moment,” Becka said. “How is your investigation going?”
He wobbled his head from side to side. “It’s been challenging working under the duchess’ guidelines.”
“So she thinks you’re an informant, and has put limitations on you?” He nodded. “Which means what specifically?”
“I am accompanied by two fae guards who report my activities back to Maura. I’m limited in not only who I can question but am also only allowed to question with a council member present. Unfortunately, they are often not available. I’ve been relying on Brent and his team for assistance, but I’m not making a ton of headway.”
“Let’s speak with her together tomorrow,” Becka replied. “I know she wants the poisoner found. There’s got to be a middle ground.”
“That might help,” he replied. “Thank you. While I assume you’re mulling over all the reasons you don’t agree with Maura about me, keep in mind this revelation came from a source whose motivations we do not understand.”
Squiggles continued to wander around the book’s pages. “What could it gain by revealing honest answers to questions? I mean, what’s the point?”
“First, it only works for you, a fae with a powerful gift and also the first of your gift’s lineage.”
“You’re saying this was created with me in mind? But, it’s really old. Look at the aging of the pages!”
“Okay, possibly just for someone like you. Second, the most skilled liars deceive using selected components of the truth, omitting facts to sway you to their perspective. In other words, just because the book is sharing truth with you doesn’t mean it’s the full story or that you know its motivations for sharing,” Quinn replied.
“You’re saying it thinks and has motivations?” Becka asked.
He shrugged. “You can’t know.”
She gazed at the tome, wondering if it was a boon or a venomous snake. How could she know? And what damage could the book do by answering questions truthfully?
“If you don’t mind, I need to step outside and give Chief Elowen a call.” He stood up, pulling his phone from a jacket pocket. “I’d like her to know what we’ve discovered about the book and see if she can get a couple of agents to research the mechanism.”
“By all means,” she replied.
He walked out the door to her balcony, a gust of crisp night air sweeping into the room with his passing. She heard Quinn’s voice on the phone, the low tones carrying indistinctly through the open door.
Lost in her reverie at the book, Becka didn’t notice the faint knock on her bedroom door nor the young fae clearing their dishes until the girl swept near her bed and cleared her plate from her nightstand. She murmured out a quick thanks, but the youth was well on her way out and didn’t acknowledge her.
Becka’s attention was rapt with the moving patterns upon the pages of the open Shadow-Dweller book.
She took a drink of water, but the sour taste in her mouth wouldn’t go away. Her mind kept lingering on the day’s events, specifically when she’d been deposited into Hanna’s lap. How bad would the fallout with House Hawthorne become? When Quinn was here, she’d been distracted, but with him gone the doubts, fears, and pain had returned.
Her heart ached. Her stomach ached. Her mind ached.
She leaned back against her pillows and groaned, reaching for her glass of water. Next to it sat a small bowl of butter mints in the center of the nightstand. Perhaps one could ease her stomach, or at the least, dispel the foul taste of bile in her mouth for a time?
Becka popped a single mint into her mouth, the clean, bright flavor of spearmint washing down her throat.
A heartbeat, perhaps two, passed. A distinctive and all-too-familiar counterpoint to the mint kicked into her senses.
Instinctively, Becka threw herself across the bed and spat the mint onto the floor. It came out as a gummy slurry. She grabbed for her water glass, pouring water into her mouth as fast as she could spit it out.
She wasn’t fast enough.
The glass fell from her hand, hitting the carpet and somehow bouncing instead of shattering. Her center of gravity shifted a moment later, and she tumbled out of bed, hearing her head hit the floor with a loud thump.
Voices bellowed. Feet pounded. Something, someone, rolled Becka onto her side and lifted her up. Her head rolled against a familiar shoulder. A familiar scent filled her nose, one she’d recognize anywhere. Surely Maura wouldn’t approve of this intimate moment?
“Quinn,” she whispered.
“Run ahead to Illan,” Quinn said to someone.
“Hold on, sugar,” he said, his voice cracking.
Now she felt him running, her body rocking against his, step by step.
And then she felt nothing at all.
Chapter 19
Hours later, Becka lay on a cot at the infirmary, shivering as sweat poured off her body. Something cool pressed down on her forehead, and the cool night air moved over her, a welcome chill against her heated skin.
She looked around the room, which was dim, lit only by a few candles. Quinn sat beside her, his hand on the cool compress over her head.
“Where is everyone?” Becka croaked, her voice rough from hours of retching.
“Brent is meeting with his staff, doing a top-down room-by-room search of the entire manor. He left you under my protection.”
“Can I have some water?” she whispered.
He picked up a cup from the bedside table. “Just a sip. Illan warned you to take it slow.” Quinn helped her sit up, and then she took a small sip of water. Then another.
“I don’t even remember last night,” she said. “I remember you running me here and then throwing up for what felt like hours. Didn’t Illan give me a shot or something?”
Quinn nodded, dabbing at her forehead again with the damp cloth. “After the last time, the enforcers stocked your infirmary with a couple of poison treatments. Specialty items we have access to.”
“Lucky for me you did.”
His furrowed brow was marked with shadows in the dim light. “Luck had nothing to do with it. I figured that until we caught the poisoner, another incident was inevitable.”
Becka thought about that for a few minutes, grateful for his forethought and yet terrified for her future. If they couldn’t catch the poisoner, how long before it would happen again? What if she wasn’t as lucky the next time? Would she end up in a coma like Vott? Or dead, like her sister?
She couldn’t just wait and hope for the best. Becka needed to join in the investigation. But not right now. Now she needed to rest.
Quinn ran a hand down her arm, his grip comforting. “I have some ideas for other things to try. Ways to keep you safer.”
She sighed, grateful for his reassuring touch. “Whatever you think best.”