When dessert was taken away, and the table in the middle of being cleaned from where Elspeth had flung pudding everywhere, Artemisia tried to make her escape.

“Arte.”

Ack! It’s the duke!

She turned slowly, still with her hand on the doorknob.

“Yes, father?”

“Join me in my study.”

“Yes, father.”

He’s probably just going to ask how I’m doing, again. But why does that mean going to his study? Can’t he just ask a few questions in the hallway like a normal person would?

Maybe there’s something serious he needs to talk to me about. What if he’s suspicious about me? No, that would be stupid. There’s no way he’s going to have jumped to the conclusion that an imposter has taken over his daughter’s body… right?

The door to Hesperus’ study closed with an ominous thud. It was a dim, suitably imposing room, with a grand desk and tall windows behind it. The duke stood silhouetted against the darkening sky, and Artemisia resisted the urge to run.

He’s a scary guy, especially with that scar above his eye… I wonder where he got it.

“You seem a lot more stable now.”

“Huh?” Artemisia jerked to attention.

“You know, during that week you were unconscious, we were afraid we might lose you.” The duke turned to look out of a window, his voice not betraying any feeling. “The doctor thought you had died at one point.”

“Really?”

“And then you woke up having lost your memory, talking nonsense… I was worried the shock had turned you mad. It seems you’re well on the road to recovery, though.”

“Um, father?”

“Yes?” He still didn’t turn.

“Do you know what happened? All I know is that they found me by the lake.”

Hesperus sighed. “No, not really. We all went out to watch the meteor storm, you and Topher had an argument, and then you stormed off. When you hadn’t returned an hour later, we went looking for you, and found you by the lake. That’s all. We were hoping you would be able to tell us when you woke up, but, obviously, that isn’t the case.”

“I see… Topher and I fought? What about?”

“I don’t know,” Hesperus replied, shrugging. “He wasn’t keen to talk about it, and then it stopped being a priority after you fell ill. I wouldn’t worry. Last time you two fought it was because you refused to dance with him at a ball – your clothes clashed, apparently.”

Apart from arguing with Christopher, there’s no new information there. Artemisia’s collapse is still a mystery. I wonder what the two of us fought about, though.

“Well, anyway.” Hesperus moved to his desk and lit an oil lamp, before dragging a chair over so Artemisia could sit opposite him. “I need to speak to you about a few things.”

“Alright.” Artemisia sat. “What sort of things?”

Hesperus placed his elbows on the desk, interlaced his fingers and furrowed his brows. “We’re tracking down who let it slip, but rumours about your accident have spread outside the estate. There’s been a letter inquiring about your health from the der Waals, and if they know,” he paused to scoff, “then surely it will spread.”

I remember the der Waals from the list of nobles Elise gave me. The head of house is currently Marchioness Priscilla, if I remember correctly.

He’s looking at me. Does he want me to say something? I assume this is a bad thing? This has to be a bad thing.

“This won’t be good for our reputation, I suppose,” Artemisia ventured carefully.

The duke waved a hand dismissively. “What do you mean? We’re not the type to be shaken by a little accident. I simply wanted to warn you that people might start sending you sympathy letters, and not to react too harshly, please.” A hint of desperation entered his tone at the end of his sentence, indicating this was something Artemisia had done before.

“I understand. Thank you for letting me know, father.” Artemisia made to leave.

“Arte, wait. There’s one more thing.”

“Yes?”

Hesperus twiddled his thumbs, apparently looking for the right words. “There’s something I’d like to ask of you, but you might not like it.”

“What is it?” Artemisia pursed her lips.

Admittedly, she had barely spent any time around the duke, but he seemed uncharacteristically nervous, eyes darting around the room.

What is he going to say? Why is he so anxious about it? Ahhh, he’s making me anxious now!

“Would you be open to meeting with a witch? I know a young person like you will probably think I’m talking nonsense, but I’d like to get you checked over for curses. I’m just worried that your accident and memory loss could have been caused by something… more nefarious.”

“What?”

Hesperus blanched. “You don’t have to! And if you do, it will be an absolute secret. Nobody has to know except the two of us, if you would so prefer. But would you at least consider it, for my sake?”

Wait. Wait. Wait. There’s magic in this world??? Magic???? Oh my god. I can’t believe it. This really is a fantasy world. But how come nobody’s brought it up before now. I want to learn about magic! Can I become a mage?

Wait, if nobody’s brought it up before now, that probably means it’s a really rare thing. Is this a low magic setting? Oh, come on! That’s so boring, author! Either go ham on the magic, or just don’t have it at all!

“Artemisia?”

She blinked, realising Hesperus was waiting for an answer.

I want to see magic!

“Oh, that’s absolutely fine, father. I don’t mind at all.”

“You… don’t?”

“Nope!” She probably sounded a little too jovial, but Artemisia couldn’t hide her excitement at the thought of seeing magic.

Judging from Hesperus’ dumbstruck expression, he was not expecting me to be chill with that at all. The original Artemisia must have been a real terror when she got angry if her own father has to tiptoe around her.

“Is that all?”

“Um, yes, yes it is. I’ll contact the witch and let you know when she’ll arrive.” Hesperus sighed and leaned back in his chair, a massive weight seemingly lifted from his shoulders. He raised a hand to his face. “Go on, be off with you.”

As Artemisia left the room, she swore she heard him mutter, “I need a drink.”