His attacker had been a woman.
He seemed so sure of it that even Sabine was swayed.
“A woman who wore dark clothing,” she said slowly. So, half the women in Andaris and possibly the entirety of Lowtown. They needed more to go on than that. “And you’re sure you can’t remember her face? Nothing? Do you think you would know it again if you saw it? Do you think-”
The guard cleared his throat and stepped forward. “My Lord,” he said. “Forgive me, but you are not well. Your father has asked that you not be placed under any… unnecessary strain.” He nodded plainly in Sabine’s direction.
This guy.
Sabine leaned forward. “But-”
“The Baron has requested that any concerns related to your health be reported to him, My Lord,” the guard cautioned.
“I’m not a concern!”
When she looked - really looked - at Quincy, however, she began to piece together how much pain he must actually have been in. He winced at the slightest movement, and he wore a near-permanent grimace on his face now that he was no longer smiling.
She exhaled her exasperation. While she didn’t care much about what the Baron did or did not want, the guard had a point. Beyond the obvious physical strain, Quincy seemed to be growing increasingly anxious the more they discussed his attacker. A modicum of regret flared up as Sabine realized that she hadn’t for a moment considered how stirring up memories of his assault might affect him.
“Fine! It’s fine,” she said. Her voice rose and fell as she struggled to reign in her feelings. She pushed herself up from the chair and carefully shook the pins and needles from her legs. “I think we’ve covered everything, anyway.
"Thank you for the interview, Quinc-” Sabine caught herself, and gritted her teeth. “My Lord. It was… surprisingly helpful, actually.”
The servant, who had looked so hopeful when Sabine used the proper title to address Quincy, pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance at the backhanded compliment.
“If you think of anything else, please let the Gazette know.”
A draft of air from the open window rustled her hair as Sabine slung her leather bag over her shoulder. She nodded her thanks to Quincy, raised an eyebrow at his guard, and followed the servant across the highly polished wood floors.
Her plan was to head directly to her workplace to capture as much of what she could remember on vellum: information about the attack, the attacker, and House Andaris itself.
House Andaris itself.
Sabine paused at the door, unable to hold her tongue as thoughts of the Andaris' and, consequently, of Peake bubbled back up. “Please give the Gazette’s regards to your family.”
A grim smile, and then she was gone.
He seemed so sure of it that even Sabine was swayed.
“A woman who wore dark clothing,” she said slowly. So, half the women in Andaris and possibly the entirety of Lowtown. They needed more to go on than that. “And you’re sure you can’t remember her face? Nothing? Do you think you would know it again if you saw it? Do you think-”
The guard cleared his throat and stepped forward. “My Lord,” he said. “Forgive me, but you are not well. Your father has asked that you not be placed under any… unnecessary strain.” He nodded plainly in Sabine’s direction.
This guy.
Sabine leaned forward. “But-”
“The Baron has requested that any concerns related to your health be reported to him, My Lord,” the guard cautioned.
“I’m not a concern!”
When she looked - really looked - at Quincy, however, she began to piece together how much pain he must actually have been in. He winced at the slightest movement, and he wore a near-permanent grimace on his face now that he was no longer smiling.
She exhaled her exasperation. While she didn’t care much about what the Baron did or did not want, the guard had a point. Beyond the obvious physical strain, Quincy seemed to be growing increasingly anxious the more they discussed his attacker. A modicum of regret flared up as Sabine realized that she hadn’t for a moment considered how stirring up memories of his assault might affect him.
“Fine! It’s fine,” she said. Her voice rose and fell as she struggled to reign in her feelings. She pushed herself up from the chair and carefully shook the pins and needles from her legs. “I think we’ve covered everything, anyway.
"Thank you for the interview, Quinc-” Sabine caught herself, and gritted her teeth. “My Lord. It was… surprisingly helpful, actually.”
The servant, who had looked so hopeful when Sabine used the proper title to address Quincy, pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance at the backhanded compliment.
“If you think of anything else, please let the Gazette know.”
A draft of air from the open window rustled her hair as Sabine slung her leather bag over her shoulder. She nodded her thanks to Quincy, raised an eyebrow at his guard, and followed the servant across the highly polished wood floors.
Her plan was to head directly to her workplace to capture as much of what she could remember on vellum: information about the attack, the attacker, and House Andaris itself.
House Andaris itself.
Sabine paused at the door, unable to hold her tongue as thoughts of the Andaris' and, consequently, of Peake bubbled back up. “Please give the Gazette’s regards to your family.”
A grim smile, and then she was gone.
