Belle Revolte - Linsey Miller Page 0,43

Laurence’s table, was meticulously cleaned and organized. At its center was a small steel box.

As Laurence turned to move it, Charles mouthed to Rainer and me, “Two explosions.”

It took everything in me not to laugh.

“That,” Laurence said, pointing to Sébastien, “is my first apprentice. Do you want to introduce yourself or should I?”

Sébastien didn’t seem to hear. Laurence only nodded.

“That is Sébastien des Courmers, comte de Saillie,” Laurence said, voice overly nonchalant. “He is too busy to select which one of you he wants to work with—”

Sébastien turned around. His dark hair was braided back but escaped strands dangled across the sides of his face, giving him the look of a person interrupted whilst in the middle of something of great importance. His spectacles were artfully drooping down his straight nose, and the bushy brows above bright green eyes were naturally full and arched. “We agreed. I get Mercer.”

“Just making sure you’re paying attention.” Laurence pushed Rainier toward him and moved to sit at his desk. “Acquaint yourselves.”

Charles held up his hand. “You forgot to introduce yourself.”

“I hate small talk.” Laurence dropped his pen.

“You’re intimidating without it.” Sébastien cleared his throat. “But it’s only because you’re so smart.”

“Complimenting me to make me do something I hate?” Laurence asked. “Really?”

Charles and Sébastien glanced at each other and said, “Yes.”

Laurence sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort, and he held out his hands to us as if his next words were an offering. “Please call me Laurence or Physician du Montimer. Please do not break anything. No eating in the laboratory, and no excessive use of the arts without my permission.” He glanced at Sébastien. “Better?”

He nodded.

“What’s your favorite color?” Charles asked. “Everyone has one. It’ll make you seem more personable.”

“I have apprentices to be personable for me.” Laurence rolled his eyes but smiled. “I like dark green and hate apples. Personable?”

“Very,” Sébastien said.

I glanced at Charles. “Laurence said I would be working with you, but that you didn’t want a hack?”

“No,” Charles said, grin pure malice. “I see he also forgot the entire purpose of today. You’re working with Laurence.” He patted my shoulder. “My condolences—I don’t think I slept for two months when Laurence first took me on.”

I shuffled to Laurence’s desk, unsure of what to do. He had already set to taking notes and staring at some sort of alchemical agent I had never seen. He glanced up at me after a moment.

“Right.” He narrowed his eyes and pushed his glasses to his forehead. “I need an assistant who knows how to alter the alchemistry of the human body, and judging by your exam, that’s you. I won’t use you as a hack unless necessary, but you will do exactly what I say. Understood?”

I bowed. The new stays and shift scratched at my spine. “Yes. I am glad I can fill that need.”

Laurence tilted his head to one side, plait bouncing against his shoulder. “You bow quite often, so I’m assuming you don’t normally wear skirts. Wear what you’re comfortable in.” He slipped off his physician’s coat and handed it to me, gesturing to the hook on the wall behind me. “And please stop bowing to me. If you do it every time we see each other, you’ll end up face-first in a dissection cadaver.”

Finally! We would get to learn something.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll go with me on my rounds, as will the others, but they are studying minor surgeries and bonesetting now. We’ll start tomorrow. I spend most of my days between research and free infirmaries when not at university,” Laurence said, tossing his journal on the table at the back of the laboratory. “It’s tedious work, but it has to be done and be done right, no matter how much the patient can pay, and while we are here, we work in Delest every day.”

The world needed reordering, me included, and maybe this was my first step in helping. I would hear all sorts of things about court and Pièrre from Laurence.

I sat on the stool across from Laurence. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Here.” Laurence reached beneath his table and dropped a stack of books heavier than the earth before me. “Start reading.”

Ten

Annette

Breakfast was the same except Estrel didn’t show, and I nearly vomited after eating a pastry oozing with cinnamon that had looked too good to pass up. I sat on a bench next to Coline in mathematics, head on her shoulder, whispering the answers, and the teacher didn’t bother us about it. On

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