Chapter Twenty-Eight

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"I told him I'd rather be a whore than a debtor, and I turned out to be both in the end, isn't it funny?"

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"I told him I'd rather be a whore than a debtor, and I turned out to be both in the end, isn't it funny?"

"I told him I'd rather be a whore than a debtor, and I turned out to be both in the end, isn't it funny?"

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

1 January 1964

Something was bothering Alastor.

They'd arrived separately at Amelia's Shepherd's Bush townhouse for her annual "Hair of the Dog" party, and Alastor had greeted Minerva as usual, kissing her absently on the cheek and squeezing her shoulders a bit brusquely, as he always did when they met in public.

But he gave her none of his usual light-hearted teasing—in fact, he didn't volunteer more than a few words to anyone—and he only seemed to be half listening to any conversations he found himself in.

Is it his eye? she wondered.

He'd been nervous about it with her at first, making jokes and self-deprecating remarks that she knew masked his apprehension about her reaction to his changed visage. She thought—she hoped—she'd put his fears on that score to rest. After he had healed, and his wounds weren't so pointed a reminder of the dangers of his profession, Minerva hadn't found his face difficult or unpleasant to look at, as he'd seemed to fear she would. She was quite sure she'd never shied away from it, even when the missing chunk of his nose and the cuts that bisected his cheek had been new and raw. The eye had unnerved her a bit, but only because, at times, it moved independently of Alastor's remaining natural one, and Minerva knew that it meant he was edgy and scanning for danger, something that he'd always done, even when they were alone. The magical eye simply made it more obvious.

She'd thought Alastor had become mostly at ease with the changes to his appearance, but then again, they'd not been at such a large social gathering since his injury.

But if it was his changed appearance that was bothering him, why did his eyes never quite meet hers when she tried to catch them?

This is going to be a long afternoon, Minerva sighed to herself as she surveyed the room. She and Amelia were talking with Millicent Bagnold about the Harpies' disappointing showing in their last few matches—ordinarily an interesting topic, but Minerva was anxious to get Alastor alone to try to find out what was eating him.

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