Rosamund
Morwen and I held each other's gaze for a long moment before my knees gave way and I sank onto the stool.
"What did you just say?" I whispered.
"Exactly what you heard," Morwen sighed. "That's why he married you."
"Like a sacrifice? Is he going to sacrifice me to cure himself?"
"Gods, no!" Morwen pressed her fingers to her temple. "The Duke is not a murderer. I know the rumours in your head are twisting everything, but the Nevan I know would rather die than take someone else's life."
"Speak for yourself," I snorted, though relief loosened something in my chest that I hadn't realised was clenched. "Tell me more. How exactly am I his cure?"
"I can't say much, but the fact that the corruption didn't touch you in the courtyard is proof that you're immune to what is plaguing him. We believe that something runs through your blood that counteracts what runs through his."
"So I have some kind of power? Am I a witch?"
