Shadows of Pnath by Josh Reynolds

Author:Josh Reynolds [Reynolds, Josh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Media Tie-In, Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Mystery & Detective, Historical, General
ISBN: 9781839082061
Publisher: Aconyte
Published: 2023-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Intruder

Pepper sat hunched in her chair in the Comte’s study, trying to ignore the hunger pangs gnawing at her insides. It had been nearly a day since she’d eaten, and everything was starting to go blurry at the edges. Just as she’d started to worry that they were planning on letting her starve to death, Selim came in, carrying a covered platter. He set it beside her on the desk and removed the cover, revealing an assortment of fruit, cheeses and pastry.

“Eat, girl,” he said. “You will need your strength.”

“For what? Your boss got something special planned?”

“You might say that,” the Comte said, as he closed the door to the study behind him. He went to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. He looked… worn down, somehow. Like he’d been up all night. While he sipped his drink, she reached for a pastry. It was good. Then, she figured a rotten apple would have tasted good right about then.

“So, you survived,” the Comte said, as he watched her eat. “I honestly was not expecting that. Perhaps Alessandra chose more wisely than I appreciated.” He set his glass down and gave her a glance. He was as tight as an owl, Pepper realized – or at least part of the way there. Maybe that was what he’d been up to all night. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. She had the Comte pegged as a mean drunk. “Would you care for a drink, Miss Kelly?” he asked, after a moment.

She glanced at the window. “Bit early, ain’t it?”

“Hair of the dog, as you Americans say.”

“Then yeah, I could go for a snootful,” Pepper said, carefully.

The Comte smiled. “Wine or coffee? I would offer a pastis, but – well. You may dress like a man, but we both know better, don’t we?”

Pepper sank back into her chair and forced a smile. “I thought we were talking about drinks, not pastries.” Despite her comment, she knew what a pastis was; Alessandra had let her taste it, just the once. But once had been enough; it had been like drinking licorice.

The Comte frowned. “Coffee, then?”

“Depends. You got any whisky?”

Selim snorted, and the Comte rang for a servant. When the latter arrived, he said, in English, “Bring a coffee for Miss Kelly, please.” He turned back to Pepper. “I would not want you to get the idea I am planning on poisoning you, no?”

Pepper leaned forward. “You already locked me up in a tomb with a monster. Poison is way down on my list of concerns.”

The Comte chuckled. “Yes, well, you handled yourself with aplomb, from what Selim tells me. Trapped the brute in a box – ha! I am mortified I did not think of such a thing.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone is as smart as me,” Pepper said. She was hoping to get under his skin, but he either wasn’t paying attention or he just plain didn’t care. The Comte laughed and nodded.

“You are clever, yes, I must admit.

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