Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 24: Rumours

One day, while cleaning up Quinnian Allura's room, she found a vial of an unknown concoction tucked away in a secret drawer of the vanity table. Curious, the maidservant uncorked it. She claimed it smelt of death and roses—a sorcerer's brew. Of course, she considered taking it to the Galennus House to check its contents, but as doing so would risk her being accused for prying—though all the servants do it anyway—she put it back. Thus, a theory began to form in her mind that the Quinnian was a sorcerer in disguise, here to assassinate the king. Naturally, a ridiculous story, and it's one that certainly has a few exaggerations and elaborations. However, the way she spoke when I questioned her...she was actually trembling, licking her dry lips far too much.

She was afraid.

And of course, there's the story of the howls that come from her bedroom at night. Gossip circulated that the soldiers who patrolled the area at night would hear beast-like snarls and the heavy thrashing of furniture coming from inside the Quinnian's room. They also add that the snarls seem to be muffled with a cloth, while the thrashing seems hesitant, as though someone were holding it back.

There were other rumours of course, of how she is a Creature from the Forest of Mellitus, but these are the stories that imprint themselves so clearly into my mind. They are what make me afraid to see right now, which is why I'm going to see Gilbert instead. I need the distraction. Besides, I need to know what went on in the scrinaius anyway.

At least, that's the excuse I give myself for not hunting Quinnian Allura down.

Thankfully, Galennus Haelen grudgingly agrees to leave his workroom when I ask to be alone with his patient. When he and his assistant exit the place, I close the door a little too hard, the thud it sounds making me jump.

I stride over to Gilbert. He has dark circles lining his eyes, but otherwise he looks fine. He widens his eyes once he realises that it's me. "Why are you here?"

"To ask you why you collapsed in the scrinaius," I reply crisply, dragging a stool to sit on it.

"And your only reason for coming to visit me was to ask the exact cause of why I collapsed?" he squawks indignantly. Gilbert glares at me from his upright position on the sickbed. I raise a supercilious brow, not quite understanding the reason for his agitation.

"Yes."

He sighs. "There's tea in the kettle there," he says absently, gesturing towards a corner of the room. "Cups are on the worktable. Could you pour some out for us first? I'm thirsty."

A sharp retort hangs on the tip of my tongue. I still it, following Gilbert's instructions. Perhaps some tea would help to clear my muddle mind anyway. Once I hand over one teacup to him, cradling the other in my hand, I glare at him from my seat, willing him to give me the answers I want.

"And here I was, innocently thinking that you came to see me because something has melted that inhumanely cold heart of yours," he mutters darkly. I realise that I've become much better at reading others' body language—at least I know that Gilbert's irritation is really disappointment at me, for not expressing more concern towards an injured brother-in-arms. I thought that he should know better after knowing me for four years.

Yet I raise another supercilious brow.

"Fine," Gilbert snaps. "I'll tell you!"

Even in the dim lighting, I see Gilbert's face blanch slightly, the healthy red glow on his cheeks replaced with a pasty, oatmeal-like colour. His lips part; they don't move to form words. To occupy the emptiness, he takes a careful sip of his drink.

"Well?" I grow slightly impatient at his sudden silence.

He sucks in a deep breath, and expels it. Slowly. I grit my teeth, quelling a shout gurgling up my throat. At long last, he focuses his eyes on me, attempting to remain as cool and calm as possible when he delivers his verdict. "A vision."