10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten

Drew

T he morning sunlight is dazzling my eyes. I wince and try to angle my head away from the window. I'm never drinking again.

The wet blanket over the fire is steaming slightly. Soft sniffling is coming from the chimney. I'm glad he isn't sobbing anymore. The utterly forlorn sound was tearing my heart to pieces.

"Lucien, please come down," I try again softly.

Even though my voice is rasping from all the thousands of times I've already said those words.

"Gregory is gone, it's just me."

That's probably not much consolation. I'm not any better than Gregory. I've been a vile asshole. I've treated Lucien poorly. He has no reason to trust me or feel safe in my presence. As proven by the broken way he was crying. The sound of which will haunt me forever.

The door opens and I turn to see Katy leading the healer in. A deep sigh of relief escapes me.

"Henderson, thank you so much for coming!" I exclaim.

The healer smiles broadly as he places his black bag down on a side table. "No problem at all, I'm glad to be of service."

A sniffle comes from the chimney, and some debris falls down onto the steaming blanket. Henderson's eyebrows lift.

"What happened? "

I swallow. "Lucien…became very upset and dashed up the chimney. I quickly put out the flames with magic, and then a wet blanket to be sure, but the bricks must be scalding and he won't come down. I'm worried he is badly burned."

Doubts swirl through my mind, but I need to push them aside. Of course it was me who put out the fire. It cannot have been Lucien. Vessels cannot wield their magic, it is one of the fundamental principles of life. I must have been even drunker than I realized.

"What set him off?" asks the healer.

Shame, horror and a deep, deep regret clog up my throat. Despite what the laws may say, Lucien is not my property. I had no right. I can't breathe, but I force out the words anyway.

"Being shared."

I'm never ever drinking again. I didn't even know I had such a dark and twisted part of my soul, and if alcohol releases it, then never again. Such darkness needs to stay chained.

Something glitters across Henderson's eyes and it does not look like disapproval. Whatever it is I am seeing, it is making my gut twist uncomfortably.

"I see," says the healer, and he begins to pull small jars of herbs out of his bag. "I'll mix a sedative and set the smoke up the chimney, then we can see what's what."

He hums merrily as he mixes pungent smelling herbs together in a mortar bowl. Then he grinds them with a pestle.

"All done. Now if you get ready to catch him," he says cheerfully.

I nod and step up to the fireplace. The healer ignites his mixture with a sharp zing of magic and waves the bowl at the base of the chimney. I stretch my arms out over the gently steaming blanket.

The smoke is thick and tinged with a green hue. It billows up the chimney in thick coils. Lucien coughs and then there is movement. He falls into my arms amongst a cloud of debris and soot. I catch him and pull him to my chest. His nightgown is torn in places and rather sooty, but I can't see any burns.

He is limp and pliant in my embrace and part of me likes it far too much.

"Looks like he has been lucky," Henderson says as he peers at Lucien. "Take him to his bed, if you would, so I may get a proper look at him."

I nod and start walking. Lucien stirs. His bright green eyes fix on me. Hazy and unfocused, but still burning with intensity.

"I'm sorry," he rasps. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

My grip on him tightens, and I walk a little faster. He is a warm, slender weight in my arms and part of me never wants to let him go.

"I'll be good. I don't need the healer! Please!" he wails.

Henderson tuts loudly and Lucien flinches in my arms and clings to me.

"My condolences, Count Felford," says Henderson. "As if being lumbered with a frigid vessel was not bad enough, but one that is loose witted too? How unfortunate."

What the hell is Henderson talking about? Frigid? Lucien isn't frigid. Both times I've been with him, I've been addled by Husband's Tea, but I would know that. I know I would.

Katy opens the door to Lucien's bedchamber and I carefully place my vessel down on his bed. But his hands twist in my clothes and hold on to me. His eyes are wide and frantic and his skin far too pale.

"Please!" he implores.

Something ancient and primal within me stirs. A desire to protect. To be needed. To guard what is mine.

"None of that!" snaps Henderson as he roughly pulls Lucien's hands away from me.

Lucien's green eyes turn to the healer, and he cowers.

"Come now. I know you can behave," Henderson says. "I don't want to have to restrain you. "

I'm so confused. Henderson is acting as if he has seen Lucien before. And what is with this frigid accusation? That's quite a leap of a diagnosis to make with one quick glance at a person. Nevermind that it is an antiquated and quite ridiculous term. Is Henderson assuming this because Lucien was scared enough to hide up a chimney?

That's quite a stretch. Even though it is considered acceptable in some circles, many people would not be happy to be shared. Even perfectly behaving little vessels like Lucien.

Henderson starts stripping off the remains of my vessel's nightgown. Lucien sucks in a breath and then goes limp. His dazzling eyes go dull, as if all his light has been extinguished. He stares up at the bed canopy. Tears brim and then silently fall.

Uneasiness coils around my gut. Something about Lucien's complete surrender seems worse than his pleading. There is an utter hopelessness to it that is tearing at my soul.

Lucien is not in his right mind at the moment, but I swear there is still something off about his reaction to the healer.

"Have you seen Lucien before?" I ask Henderson.

Henderson pauses in undressing my vessel. "Yes, my lord. My apologies. It never occurred to me he would be so disrespectful as to not tell you."

I stare speechlessly at the healer. There are too many thoughts spinning around my head. I can't catch any and turn them into words.

He sighs. "He came to my office the other day. I examined him and found him to be frigid."

Gods. I don't even know where to start with this. I need more information.

"What led you to that conclusion?" I ask, and thank goodness I have regained the power of speech.

Henderson frowns and pushes his glasses back up his nose. He is clearly affronted at being challenged, but I don't care .

"The physical exam showed that everything functions correctly, and since he reported not enjoying your attentions, the conclusion was obvious."

The words bounce around in my mind for a moment. I've been up all night. I'm hungover. The healer is being coy. But finally I get there and the puzzle pieces all start to snap into place.

My ego wishes to fixate on Lucien not enjoying my attentions, but that issue needs to wait. I have a horrible suspicion there are far more pressing matters of concern here.

I need to concentrate on the other facts and see if I can untangle them.

If I've got this right, Lucien went to see the healer. The healer forced him to spill and then accused him of being frigid. What an awful and horrendous thing to do to the poor boy!

Then another thought hits me like a ton of bricks. After Lucien's ordeal with the healer, he came home. And I accused him of having an affair.

But his magic wasn't depleted from being in a lover's arms, but from what the healer did to him.

Oh gods. My lungs have gone so tight I cannot breathe. Poor Lucien. This is devastating. A calamity. I'm horrified at what my vessel has been through and the part I played in it. He will surely never be able to forgive me for this. And deservedly so.

As for right now, I know Lucien is distraught. I understand the sedative smoke is affecting him. But he is clearly genuinely traumatized by what Henderson did to him. And there is one thing I can do to make that better. A small way I can try to make amends.

"I think you should leave," I say quietly to Henderson.

The healer opens his mouth to object, then he looks at my expression, closes his mouth, and leaves without a word. I hear him collect his bag from the next room and then he is gone.

Lucien remains staring blankly at the canopy. I'm not sure he has even realized that Henderson has left.

I turn helplessly to Katy .

"Always thought he was a creep," she says with a clear look of disgust in her eyes.

My mind is spinning. My world is tilting. Another memory is bubbling up to add to this disaster. Lucien begging me not to call the healer after his faint. And me taking that as evidence of further deception.

Oh gods. I'm going to be sick.

"Let's get him cleaned up and check for any injuries," says Katy as she dips a cloth into a bowl of water. She must have fetched supplies while I was talking to the healer.

I'm glad someone has their wits about them.

My hand takes a hold of a remaining strip of nightgown. Lucien shudders. His eyes suddenly look at me. Wide and fearful.

"I'm not ripe," he rasps.

"I know," I say as gently as I can. Gosh. I hate that he thinks my touch means only one thing.

On his other side, Katy dabs a warm, wet cloth on his soot covered bare shoulder. He flinches and turns his attention to her. A strange, anguished noise pours out of him and he rolls over on his side, away from me and towards her. His hands twist desperately into her tee shirt and pull her down

"Nanny!" he sobs.

Katy stares at me and bites her bottom lip. Gods, he is truly out of it if he thinks Katy is his childhood nurse.

"Please don't make me! I'll be good! Please don't make me!"

Lucien looks over his shoulder at me, winces, and curls up closer to Katy.

"Please! Please! Please!"

My heart is thrumming. My hands are shaking. My throat is tight. I could tell myself Lucien is hysterical. If he thinks Katy is his nanny, then there is no saying who he thinks I am. This fear and dread is not for me. It is for someone else. But there is a frightening amount of recognition in his eyes .

I have to face the truth. My vessel is terrified of me. Of my attentions. Henderson said so, and while he is a creep, he has no reason to lie.

Besides, it makes horrifying sense. I don't like Lucien. I was addled on our wedding night. My bitterness may well have been unleashed. I have no idea how I treated him for his first time. And then I was addled again when he was ripe.

Add in the fact that Lucien is very prim and proper. Extremely traditional. And these very things I find distasteful about him, could have made him far less experienced than I have assumed.

Oh gods. Heaven help us. This is far beyond a nightmare.

Because, even if by some miracle I'm mistaken, this terror pouring from Lucien, is for someone. If not me, someone else has hurt this boy very badly.

All in all, the truth is now plain for me to see. I've been so very, very wrong. Lucien isn't a stuck up little twat. He is a broken, damaged and hurting young man.

One I have been nothing but awful to.

"I'll…I'll leave you to it," I stutter like the coward I am.

Then I turn and flee.