Chapter 40: Of Questionable Illnesses and Betraying Stomachs
Lyria's POV
"What?"
The word escaped me before I could stop it.
For a single dreadful heartbeat, I feared the sharpness of it had betrayed me.
But the Duke did not appear offended. If anything, he looked more concerned.
"Your voice," he said gently, as though explaining something very obvious to a stubborn child. "It sounds rather strained."
He tilted his head slightly as he studied me.
"I was merely wondering if you had taken ill."
A slow knot of unease formed in my stomach.
"I a-assure you, Your Grace," I said carefully, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the stone floor between his boots, "I-I have no c-cold."
The Duke did not immediately respond.
Instead, I heard the faint shift of his coat as he straightened. Then he turned his head toward the Earl, who was still standing, watching the interaction.
"Lord Hawthorne," he said thoughtfully, "tell me something."
