Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
SENAN
I rest my elbows on the balcony edge, watching flashes of lightning spark in the clouds below, listening to the low rumble of thunder.
I miss you.
I love you.
I’m sorry.
Words whispered to the darkening horizon, meant for someone who will never hear them.
I’m not sure how long I loiter out here, but eventually the cooler evening air sends me back to my room. Inside, I find Bilson with his arms folded over his broad chest, towering over a servant dressed head to toe in white.
My boots make no sound as I cross the lush carpet. “What is happening here?”
The guard shifts his weight, directing his scowl at me. “Sergeant Bell said you requested all the servants called Leni be brought to your room. Don’t you remember?”
As a matter of fact, I don’t. Which isn’t exactly surprising since I had a lot to drink last night. For some reason, my thoughts have been consumed by the servant who helped me escape the king’s wrath yesterday, so it isn’t outside the realm of possibility.
“Of course I remember,” I say, turning my attention to the servant. There had been something so incredibly familiar about her. Which sounds silly considering she’d only recently been hired. But the way she’d wrenched her hands. The timbre of her quiet voice when she told me her name. The way my skin had buzzed for hours after she’d touched my hand.
Today though, nothing about this woman draws me in. “Is this the only one?”
Bilson exhales a frustrated breath through his nose. Not sure why. Of all the things I’ve asked him to do over the years, bringing a servant to my room is fairly tame. “The House Master assured me that this is the only Leni on record.”
That can’t be right. This woman’s hips are a touch too wide, and her chest is a bit too large. Then again, maybe I’m misremembering.
“Thank you, Bilson. You may leave us.”
Although Bilson’s jaw pulses, he stalks out the balcony doors.
Now, back to the matter at hand. Everything about this servant feels wrong, but since Bilson went through all this trouble, I might as well question her. “How long have you worked at the castle, Leni?”
Her masked face lifts. “Five years, sire.”
Her voice is different. No accent, for one. And higher, not as husky. Although I can’t see her face, the woman seems to shrink under my stare. It’s not her . Still, I need to be certain, just in case. “Where were you yesterday at noon?”
“In the launderette, sire. It’s where I work.”
It’s not her. Why does that fact disappoint me so much? “Thank you for your time, Leni. I apologize for the confusion. You may return to your duties.”
She bobs a curtsy and hurries back to the warded door leading to the servants’ quarters.
The maid yesterday must’ve given me a false name.
The way she’d clutched her hands in front of her, the very same as?—
I shake away the fanciful notion.
Still…
Why would the woman lie about her name unless she has something to hide?
At dinnertime, Kyff retrieves me the same way he has the last two nights. With my hangover lingering, I don’t have it in me to put up a fight, so I shower and shave and wear clean clothes. On my way into the dining hall, I catch myself staring at the maids lining the wall and hiding in the alcoves. Is one of them the woman I met the day before?
Boris suggests I sit with the folks from Nimbiss instead of in my normal place between Rhainn and Kyffin. And look, there happens to be an empty chair right between my king and my betrothed. Isn’t that convenient?
I drop beside Leeri with a heavy sigh. Gods, I need a drink. As soon as the servant pours the wine, I drain the whole lot.
The servant returns, tipping the bottle back into my empty glass. I peer up at her, trying to imagine what hides beneath that mask. There is no pull from this one. When I look at her, I feel nothing at all.
“Is it customary in Kumulus for men to have their wings out at dinner?” Minister Donnell asks, slipping his spoon into his bowl of soup before bringing it to his flattened lips.
Boris clears his throat, throwing me a pointed look. “No, Minister, it’s not.”
If I want to have my wings out, then I should be allowed to have them out. What does it matter to either of them? It’s not as if I’m molting. Honestly. The things this fool complains about. I drain my second glass of wine before sending my wings away.
“I do hope my brother wasn’t as rude during his visit to Nimbiss,” Boris says with a slight grimace.
Leeri smiles across the table at him, the picture of grace and beauty and mindlessness. “Quite the opposite. He was the perfect gentleman.”
If by “perfect gentleman” she means that I spent the entire time holed up in my room, then yes, I was a perfect gentleman.
Unlike most nights, the air in here is close and still, not so much as a breeze coming from the open balcony doors.
I unbutton my jerkin and the top of my shirt. Leeri darts a look my way before reaching for her own wine glass. I drink more than I eat, and by the time they serve the final course, my head feels full of clouds. Unfortunately, there is no room in my stomach for dessert, so I push the plate of tiramisu aside in favor of more wine.
Boris clamps a hand over my thigh and then relocates my wine glass to the other side of his plate, just out of reach. “I think you’ve had enough, brother.”
I’ll be the one deciding when I’ve had enough, thank you very much. Holding his gaze, I reach for the bottle, bring it to my lips, and take a long, slow sip.
Boris turns toward Kyff and smiles. “Kyffin? How are your lessons coming along?”
My baby brother lights up as if he has been handed a vat of ice cream. “Very well, my king, I’m becoming quite proficient in fencing.”
I’m so proud of that lad. He has more determination in his little finger than I have in my whole being.
Although he speaks to Kyffin, the king’s gaze remains on me. “I believe it’s time you put your sword away and join us for meetings in the council chamber.”
Kyff’s face loses its rosy hue, and tears swim in his eyes when he nods. “Yes, my king.”
I slam the bottle back onto the table. How dare he bring our baby brother into this. Boris shouldn’t be taking out his frustrations on Kyff. He should be taking them out on me. Taking away the boy’s training is akin to stabbing him through the heart. Kyff lives for his time spent in the ring. He hasn’t missed a single day since he was allowed to attend his first session three years ago.
The sound of the bottle meeting the table makes one of the servants across the hall flinch. Average height. Thin build. She could be the same woman from the other day, but then again, so could the other two on either side of her.
Boris nudges my boot with his. “Did you hear the princess?”
Had the princess spoken? I was too busy watching that servant. “Sorry, no.” Ignoring the Nimbiss Minister oozing sneery-faced judgment, I turn toward the princess. “What did you say?”
Her deeply tanned cheeks flush bright pink. “I simply inquired about your day.”
My day is none of her business. “My day was fine.”
She smiles as if those four words are the most interesting words she has ever heard. “That is wonderful to hear. Your king says the gardens are lovely this time of year.”
I wouldn’t know because I haven’t been to the gardens in forever.
“Would you like to accompany me for a picnic tomorrow?” she asks.
“I despise picnics.” I’d rather bathe in boiling oil.
Leeri’s smile falters.
“You must excuse my brother, he is in a foul humor today,” Boris says to the princess with another nudge to my foot. “I am certain he will wake in a better mood tomorrow and would be delighted to accompany you. Isn’t that right, Senan?”
Can’t he give me a break for one fucking day? “It would be my honor.”
I nod dutifully to everything else the princess says, pretending a little better to be engaging in conversation with her when I’m really studying the servant across from me. Those masks are so inconvenient. How is one to know who is who? Do they wear them in the servants’ quarters as well?
When everyone at the table finishes, I watch the maid as she clears the dishes, carries them through the servant’s door, and then returns for more. She looks exactly the same as all the other servants, and yet…
And yet there is something different.
I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.
Boris orders me to join the other men in the drawing room for cigars and after dinner whiskies—although I’m certain he’ll withhold the latter. Probably for the best, all things considered. I don’t want to escort my darling betrothed to the gardens tomorrow with a hangover and end up puking in the roses. Although, that could work in my favor. If I disgust her enough, maybe she’ll call the whole thing off.
As much as I despise the princess, she does provide me with the perfect excuse to avoid joining the king right away. “If it’s all right, I’d like to bring the princess to her chambers.”
From the way Leeri’s face brightens, you’d swear I just confessed my undying love for her.
The king stands and tosses his serviette onto the table. “An excellent idea. We will see you shortly.”
He won’t see me at all, but that is a problem for tomorrow.
Leeri takes my arm, but shaking her off isn’t an option. We make it all the way to the door before something catches my eye. At the head of the table, a maid has stopped, presumably to watch us exit. Those damned masks . She isn’t the only one. She is, however, the only one wrenching her hands.
The guards hold open the doors, and we step into the breezeway. For some reason, Leeri insists on walking everywhere, which is incredibly irritating when one is in a rush.
“Are you exhausted after roaming around the castle today?” I ask. From her nattering over dinner, I learned that she spent the afternoon touring the rest of the castle’s five towers. Wonder if she saw all the doors and windows.
Her hand tightens on my arm. “I am quite weary. Although being with you invigorates me.”
And just like that, she gives me the perfect excuse to escape. With a click of my tongue, I say, “We can’t have that. You will need your rest for our exciting trip to the garden.”
Her eyes widen as realization seems to set in, but I’m already unhooking her fingers from my forearm. “Senan, I didn’t mean?—”
“Bell!” I call to the guard waiting at the far end of the hallway. “Would you mind escorting the princess to her chambers? She is quite weary.”
Leeri lets out a frustrated groan and stamps her foot, but I’m already back in the dining room before she can call me back.
I search the sea of white-clad servants, my gaze snagging on one in particular. As if she can feel my eyes on her, her masked face lifts.
It’s her.
It must be.
Did she just stiffen?
She did.
She stiffened.
My heart rate spikes when the maid grabs a stack of dishes and whirls toward the servant’s stairs. “You there,” I call with a wave that she completely ignores.
The other servants’ heads swing toward the one I called after. Her shoulders hunch when she picks up her pace.
If she reaches the servants’ door, the wards won’t let me follow. There is no telling if I’ll ever get a chance to see her again.
I don’t walk. I run, eating up the distance between us and skidding to a halt in the nick of time, blocking her exit. When she tries to skirt around me, I hold out my arms. “Stop. I must speak with you.”
The dishes in her arms rattle when her head swings this way and that, as if searching for another way out.
I don’t know what I think I’ll find, but there is something about this woman that feels too familiar to ignore.
“Everyone else out!” I order, waiting until only the two of us remain in the cavernous dining room. I swear I can hear my heartbeat echo off the coffered ceiling. The longer I stare, the more of a tug I feel toward this woman. As if she and I are tethered by some invisible cord.
You’re wrong.
There is no way it’s her.
Swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat, I take a tentative step forward. “You lied to me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she counters, skirting backward.
The timbre of her voice is exactly the same. There must be hundreds of servants in this castle. I can’t believe I found her. “Yesterday, you gave me a false name.”
Her hood slips a little when she shakes her head, but the shadows are too dark to see what lies beneath. “I didn’t.”
“Do you really think lying to a prince of the realm for a second time is a good idea? If you do not tell me your real name this instant, then I will?—”
“Wynn?” a high voice calls from the servant’s entrance. “Do you need help?”
Wynn. Wynn. Wynn.
The name pulses through my skull as bitter disappointment settles in my bones.
“No. I’m…I’m fine,” the woman, Wynn, says, her voice trembling and Nimbiss accent gone.
Not only was she lying about her name, she has been using a false accent as well.
Could this be the same Wynn I met all those years ago? The one who knew Allette so well? When I returned to Kumulus, I’d sent Bell to Allette’s tower to try and find Wynn, but she hadn’t been there. According to the head of staff, the young maid had disappeared on Samhain.
If this is the same woman, that would explain why she lied.
Maybe she can tell me what happened to my mate.
There is only one way to know for sure.
I lunge, catch the servant’s hood, and tug it off.