“It’s not,” says Charlie. “Worth anything, I mean,” she adds, as if he didn’t get it the first time.
The next morning,I wake to an empty bed.
I flip around, panicking.
My first thought is that Nolan died in the middle of the night, and the guards took him away so I wouldn’t have to wake up next to a corpse.
“Darling, what are you thrashing about for?”
I jolt up, staring across the room to find Nolan, fully dressed and pouring tea into a set of two teacups. My shoulders sag in relief as he brings the tray over to the bed and sets it on top of the blankets.
“I thought you were dead,” I say.
“That’s rather dramatic, don’t you think?”
I glare at him, but he just nods toward the teacup nearest me. I notice that he took the chipped one for himself.
When I bring the teacup to my mouth, I can’t help but sigh as the steam from the aromatic liquid enters my sinuses, loosening even the muscles of my forehead. It tastes perfect, a tartness offset by just a bit of honey.
“I didn’t know you were good at making tea,” I say.
“Well, I figured that if I was going to give up mixed drinks, I might as well not allow that skill set to go to waste.”
“You don’t have to give those up for me,” I say.
“Yes, Darling,” he says, “I do. But it’s no sacrifice. And considering my incident the other night, it’s probably for the best that I stick to tea and water, anyway.”
“You look so much better this morning,” I say, heart lifting to see him up and walking around. The color has returned to his face, too.
“That’s because I’m clothed and you can’t see my decaying body.”
When I shoot him a glare, he adds, “But yes. I do feel much better. It seems my episode was just that—an episode.”
“Charlie says that’s the worst your episodes have been. That it’s never stopped your heart before.”
Nolan taps his finger against his teacup. “Yes, well.”
“It’s not usually a good sign when you’re at a loss for a clever retort,” I say.
“It’s not, is it?”
“You want some good news?”
“You’ve been over here sipping tea while all along withholding good news from me?”
“Well, you did allow me to wake up in an empty bed thinking my husband was dead and his body had been carried off in the middle of the night.”
Nolan tips his teacup toward me. “Fair enough.”
“I think I’ve found a way to cure you,” I say. “Or, at least, I think I know who might know how.”
Nolan stills. Watches me carefully. Then sets his teacup on the tray. “Go on.”
“No, I think I like holding you in anticipation. It’s nice to have your undivided attention,” I say.
“Darling.”
“The Youngest Sister, Nolan.”
