The Chocolatier's Wife (12 page)

“And
I
can
hardly
credit
the
accusations
levied
against
you.
What
insanity is
this?
You
of
all
people!”
Shaking
her
head,
she
saw
a
barrel
nearby. She went and
dragged it over,
and
sat,
arranging
her skirts
around
her.

He
ran
his
hands
though
his
short,
slightly
curly
hair.
“To
be
plain,
I
am accused
of
murdering
a
man
whom
I
have
no
reason
to
harm.
The
evidence is a
box of chocolates that I
most heartily deny making.”

“That
is
all?
You
cannot
be
serious!
No
witnesses?
No
records
of
some sort
of
di
s
pute
between
you
and the
Bishop?
That
is
what
they
use
to
keep
you imprisoned?”

“Indeed.
My
lawyer
is
trying
to
find
out
the
reason
behind
this,
but
thus
far
has had no
fortune in
getting me freed.”

“You
will
forgive
me
if
I
say
you
are
in
desperate
need
of
a
new lawyer?”

He
shrugged,
as
if
he
thought
she
had
a
point,
and
then
said,
“He
is
my father’s
lawyer.
Seeing
me
freed
is
in
his
best
interests.
He’s
also
very
good so, I am assured, if there is a way out then he will find
it.”

She
sighed,
and
they
were
silent
for
a moment.
Perhaps
he
is
thinking, as
I,
that
this
is
hardly
what
we
expected
our
first
conversation
to
be about.
With
that
in
mind,
she
attempted
to
steer
towards
the
future,
at least as much as she could.

“So,
where do you keep your spare key?”
she asked him.

“Spare key?”

“For
your
shop.
As
it
has
been
closed
for
three
weeks
now,
I
feel
that
one of my first
tasks it to get it open again.”

He
shook
his
head.
“Tasmin,
that
is
very
kind
of
you,
but
‘tis of
no use. No
one
will
come.
They
will
be
too
afraid
of
being
poisoned,
especially
since you
are
a
mage
from
the
North.
They
will
be
afraid
of
you.”
He
sat
on
a
chair inside the cell and
rested his wrists on
the cross bars
of the gate.

“
B
lu
n
t
a
s
a
lw
a
ys
,
I
see
.
W
ell
,
I
sh
a
l
l
b
e
blu
n
t
a
s
well
.
”
Sh
e
cu
r
le
d
he
r
h
an
d
ar
ou
n
d
his
,
an
d
h
e
see
m
e
d
t
o
t
ak
e
co
m
fo
r
t
f
r
o
m
it
.
“Mos
t
peopl
e
a
do
r
e
tw
o
thi
n
g
s
beyo
n
d
r
e
a
so
n
.
Sc
an
d
a
l
an
d
chocol
a
te
.
An
d
I
i
n
te
n
d
t
o
c
a
pit
a
li
z
e
o
n
both
.
T
he
y
wil
l
n
o
t
b
e
a
bl
e
t
o
hel
p
the
m
sel
v
es
.
I
n
f
a
ct
,
I
ma
y
n
ee
d
help
.
D
o
yo
u
sugges
t
anyone?
”

He
was
silent
for
a
long
moment,
then,
“My
own
family
won’t
be
able to
help.
A
n
drew
is
too
busy
helping
the
lawyer
and
running the
business, and
his
wife
would
probably
burn
the
place
down
by
accident.
There
is, however,
a
woman
I
met
on
my travels,
Cecelia,
Mistress Deitson. Perhaps you
remember?
She’d
married
one
of
my
officers
and
they
settled
in
Azin
Shore
a year
or
so
before
I did.
Her
husband
is
dead,
so
I have
hired
her
to tend
the
counter
and do
the
sweeping
up
for
me, for
I
do
not
care
for
that part
of
the
business.
If
you
wish,
you
may
find her
at
Miss
Dovlington’s Boarding
House for
Employed Ladies.”

The
small,
over-imaginative,
and
self-conscious
part
of
her
was
not sure
she
cared
for
this
at
all,
but
did
not
wish
to
say
so
for
fear
of
appearing
jealous or
silly. Plus,
she needed the help. “Is
she very
capable?”

“I
believe so,
yes.”

“Well,
I
shall send
someone
to fetch her when
I
need her.”
She
pulled a package
from
her
cloak.
“I
suppose
I
should
give
you
the
cake
that
I
brought you.”

He
took it
eagerly
and
unwrapped
it,
smelling
it.
“How
did
you
get
it past
the
ogres
at
the
gate?
You
are
truly
going
to
be
a
most
excellent
wife.” He offered her a
piece, which she demurred, then began eating it eagerly.

“Do they feed you much?”
she asked,
as he broke
off a
piece and
held it out
to
his
neighbor,
who
stopped
gibbering
enough
to
take
it
and
devour
it with much less del
i
cacy.

“A
stew
and
some
bread
for
lunch,
whatever
is
in
the
barrack
s
’
kitchens. But
that
is
only
once
a
day.
In
the
evenings, if
you
have
family,
they
are expected
to
bring
di
n
ner,
to
lessen
the
burden
on
the
good
people
of Azin.”