The Duchess Cannot Sleep || ONC 2021

10 | The Apothecary

Reide stared at Omula Sabar's closed door without really seeing it at all, caught in shock and still attempting to dispel the spiritist's outburst from ringing in his ears. Several paces away, Andreya was frozen much the same, but with very different fears swirling in her mind.

When the two souls broke from their respective reveries to speak to one another, their startled hearts collided and clashed.

"Your wounds can heal themselves?" said Reide.

"You didn't believe me?" Andreya shot back.

"There's so much about yourself you never mentioned!"

"It was none of your concern!"

"None of my concern? My mistake for thinking the issue I've been helping you with for the past several days was any concern of mine!"

"I never asked for your help! I chose to trust you because I thought you knew what you were talking about, but I see now that trust was sorely misplaced." Andreya clutched her bloodied handkerchief to her bodice, hands still shaking. "You said the spiritist would have my answers."

"Omula Sabar is not the only spiritist in the country." In truth, Reide could not explain Sabar's sudden rage, nor the acute sting of Andreya's words. Heart thrumming, he swept his arm toward the alley's exit. "We should try another one."

"Why should we?" Andreya scoffed. "Why should I? Just to be called a curse again? Who's to say Sabar's not right about me?"

"I am!" Reide patted his own chest. "You're anything but a curse, Andreya, trust me at least on that."

"I doubt I can trust you on anything," she snapped, and in a twirl of fabric stalked past him down the alleyway.

He swiveled after her. "Andreya!"

She shrugged off his touch like she always did, this time with a deliberate aggressiveness, and before he could stop her, she swept out into the street and vanished among the passersby.

Partially stunned, his hand lingered for only a fraction of a second in the space she had just occupied.

Then the first thing that gripped him was panic—something he thought he had outgrown long ago—followed by worry that pounded blood in his ears and made his fingertips numb. He scanned the wide street, darting out between dense, chaotic groups and calling her name several times. Any normal woman might get angry and run off and be able to take care of herself, but he had a feeling Andreya was not the same—especially given her goal in coming here. Not only might she get lost among Feledir's crowded buildings and labyrinthine paths, she had designs of "speaking with Death," which could mean any number of things.

For all he knew, Reide might find her with a sword through her stomach, and her continued resurrection was not a certainty he wished to test.

"Miss Dreya Lenestrie! Miss Andreya!" He paused as a horse clopped past and several people cast him concerned glances. He clenched his hands and darted across the street. "Andreya, come back! I need to speak with you!"

"Quiet down!" someone shouted back and Reide flinched. "Go get a drink, lad, your girl's gone."

Reide slowed to a stop in front of a bakery, out of breath and still glancing about with a dwindling hope that he might see her. People, people, people, and not Andreya. He puffed a sigh and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

When he opened them, he tore a hand through his hair and started for the nearest tavern.

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