Chapter 16
16
CAT
K laus led me out of Faelight Forest just as the sun was setting. I stumbled out of the trees to see Maeve pacing in front of our waiting carriage, biting her thumbnail. Garrick was nearby, looking just as nervous. As I approached, they turned in my direction and hurried closer.
“My lady!” Maeve shrieked. “Are you okay? What did you learn? Are you hurt? By the immortals, you were gone so long, I thought… I thought you wouldn’t make it!”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said breathlessly.
“Come here, let me check your vitals.” Garrick took ahold of my wrist and placed three fingertips on my pulse. We waited in silence as the seconds ticked by. Suddenly, Garrick snapped his gaze toward me and his eyes widened. He knew I’d made a deal. I faintly shook my head, silently telling him to keep quiet. “You, uh… seem well.” He straightened and gently released my wrist.
Maeve released the breath she’d been holding. “Oh, thank the immortals!”
I smiled and nodded. “Unfortunately, I didn’t find anything; I just got lost for a while.” I gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Why don’t you ask the driver to take us home? I’m really tired.”
“Oh, of course!” She walked quickly to the carriage to make the arrangements.
Once she was out of earshot, Garrick sidled up next to me. “My lady!” he whisper-yelled. “I told you not to make any deals—”
“I know!” I cut him off. “But this was… essential.”
“How?” he shrieked. “I can feel it on you. Your life is tied to a fae.”
I gulped. “He didn’t tell me much, but he hinted that I’d be stuck here in Elaria for a while… and that I’d need protection. With his mark, he promised to protect me.”
With a loud exhale, Garrick closed his eye and ran a hand through his messy hair. “By the immortals, my lady. Fae are tricky. Though they cannot lie, they don’t always tell the truth.”
I nodded. “I know he only used me to gain freedom from the forest.”
Garrick’s eye shot open. “What?” He slammed a hand over his mouth and looked behind him to where Maeve was chatting with the carriage driver, then back to me. “Do you know what you’ve just done, my lady?”
I blew out a breath. “Yes, Garrick.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you do. If the emperor learns of this…”
“Klaus will protect me,” I said confidently.
“Klaus?” Garrick frowned and repeated the name a few times before his eye widened again. “By the immortals! You made a deal with Klaus? THE Klaus?”
“Is he someone important?” I shrugged one shoulder. I was so ignorant in this world.
“He is the grandson of the last fae king, if we’re talking about the same person,” Garrick said, his mouth wide in shock.
“So he’s royalty?”
Garrick shook his head. “No. The fae no longer have a monarch, but if they did, he wouldn’t merely be considered royalty. He would be the fae’s next ruler. With your bargain, you freed their would-be king!”
My mouth fell open. “What?” I muttered. “No. That’s not possible!”
“My lady,” Garrick grimaced. “ Please tell me you set boundaries for this deal and didn’t leave it open ended?”
“Yes, I set a limit for one year,” I said. “He tried for ten, but—”
“Oh, thank the immortals!” Garrick sighed. “Maybe we can annul this deal before anyone finds out.”
“Is that possible?” I asked hopefully. I couldn’t believe I’d been tricked. Then again, I was like a newborn baby in this world, with no knowledge of their history or convoluted rules. Any time Maeve tried to tell me about it, I brushed her off because it was too much to remember. God, I regretted it now.
“I don’t know if it’s possible, but it’s worth a try,” Garrick said just as Maeve turned and started walking back to us. “Whatever you do, never mention Klaus’s name to anyone. Understand?” I nodded.
“All set!” Maeve said with a cheery smile. “We’ll stop by Garrick’s place to drop him off first before heading to the Northern District.”
“There is no need for that.” Garrick waved her off. “My home is not far from here. You ladies get home safely. I’ll be in touch.” With a wave over his shoulder, he turned and started walking down the winding path.
Maeve frowned. “Oh… okay, then. I guess we can go home.” She took my hand. “Ready?”
I watched Garrick’s retreating figure until he disappeared in the distance. “Ready.”
I stayed indoors for the next few days and valiantly tried not to run into any more trouble, much less encounter anyone I knew. After my little trip to Faelight Forest and learning who Klaus was, I felt sick. Not actually sick where I needed a doctor, but more like a heavy knot of dread coiled in my stomach. It wasn’t like I wanted a doctor to check me out anyway, because if Garrick could tell I made a deal with one of the fae simply by checking my pulse, then so could anyone else.
I wasn’t the type to hide from my problems, but I also wasn’t afraid to admit when I needed some time to regroup and formulate a new game plan. I’d foolishly hoped I could walk into Faelight Forest and waltz back out with the answers I needed. Now I realized how na?ve that was.
“My lady?” Maeve knocked on the door and let herself in before I could answer. “You’ve been quiet these last few days and Lord Zacharia is starting to worry.” She carefully shut the door behind her.
Damnit. I kept forgetting I was supposed to be Arya, which required me to live Arya’s life to avoid suspicion.
“Right,” I mumbled. “What would Arya be doing right now?”
“Well, she would be getting ready for her art lessons,” Maeve said shyly.
“Art lessons?” I repeated. I dimly remembered hearing this before, but I hadn’t paid it much attention. “What kind of art does she do? Like, pottery?”
Maeve shook her head. “No, my lady. Lady Arya paints, and she paints well. The next time you walk around the Ryder residence, look at the artwork. They were all painted by my lady,” she boasted.
My eyes widened at that admission. I had noticed the paintings, and I had to admit they were really nice. Definitely not amateur hour. No wonder those vampires were after me. What the hell was Arya doing with her skills? And how the hell had she done it without Maeve noticing?
I tapped my chin and narrowed my eyes at my dutiful servant. “Maeve? Are you with Arya during these lessons?”
“Sort of,” she muttered. “Lady Arya pays for me to take lessons, but since I’m such a beginner, we’re in different classes.”
I furrowed my brows. “And how does Arya pay for your class? I thought the Ryders were borderline broke?”
Maeve frowned and scratched the side of her head. “Hmm… I don’t know. I never asked,” she murmured, deep in thought.
Arya had been playing Maeve this whole time. I would bet my left tit that Arya wasn’t taking any lessons, and she was paying for Maeve to go to class as a distraction to get her out of the way. But for what , was the question. The only way to find out was by attending this so-called art lesson.
“Well, then.” I stood from the bed. “I guess we should get ready for our art lessons.”
Resolved to untangle the mysteries Arya left behind, Maeve and I walked to the art school nestled in an aged quarter of the Northern District. Autumn’s crisp whisper mingled with the rustic charm of cobblestone streets. The school, housed in a venerable stone building that once might have been a guild hall, stood solid and imposing among rows of ancient, timber-framed shops. Its facade was a canvas in itself, festooned with ivy that turned fiery red and gold in the fall, complementing the sprawling murals that adorned its massive wooden doors.
“You would think this place would be located in the Southern District,” I muttered to Maeve.
She chuckled. “You might think so, but all the high born come here.” She nodded toward the door. “Come on, or we’ll be late.”
A chill from the stone floors seeped through my boots, mingling with the scent of linseed oil and aged wood that permeated the air. The hushed echoes of our footsteps joined the distant clatter of brushes and murmurs from concentrated artists. The interior was a grand hall converted into a vast studio space, lit by shafts of sunlight pouring through high, stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the scattered canvases and the students absorbed in their craft.
The ambiance was a blend of old-world austerity and creative chaos, with large wooden easels arranged in meticulous rows and artists draped in cloaks or shawls against the autumn chill. The pungence of freshly crushed pigments and the sound of rustling parchment added layers to the room's rich, historical tapestry.
Upon reaching the main classroom, a space dominated by a soaring, vaulted ceiling and walls lined with tapestries depicting historic artistic achievements, the one I assumed was the headmistress, a woman with sharp eyes and a hawkish posture, noted our arrival with a start. Her gaze, sharp and calculating, fixed on me as she approached with brisk steps that echoed authoritatively on the stone floor.
“Lady Arya!” she said with surprise. “You’re here.”
“Yes,” I said. “I am… uh…”
“Headmistress Mirabel,” Maeve said quickly as she turned to the woman. “Apologies, Headmistress. My lady was in an accident a couple of weeks ago. She is unwell.”
“Oh, my!” Mirabel clutched her chest. “I hope you’re doing better?”
“Much,” I answered with a smile. “Well, I guess we should go to our classes before we’re late.” I looked to Maeve.
“Ah, yes!” she said quickly. “Excuse me.” With a slight bow, Maeve headed down the hall where the classroom for beginners was located.
I was about to ask the headmistress where my class was when she stepped closer and invaded my personal space.
“Where have you been, my lady? You’re late on your delivery,” she whispered inches from my face.
“Pardon?” I whispered back, feeling slightly uncomfortable with our proximity. I could practically kiss the woman.
“Come on.” She grabbed my arm and hauled me across the room toward a different hallway.
I allowed her to drag me behind her because I desperately wanted to learn more about this school and how Arya fit into it. When we arrived in her office, she shut the door and locked it. Then she waved her hand in the air and a yellow filter covered the room, encompassing us.
I gasped and looked at her with wide eyes. “What did you just do? Are you a witch?”
She frowned, confused by my strange behavior. “Of course I am, Arya. You know this. I only erected a privacy screen so no one can listen in on our conversation. This way, we can talk freely. Are you okay?”
“Oh, right. Yes, I’m fine,” I said quickly. These were all things Arya should already know. “Apologies, I’m still a little out of it.” I scratched the side of my head.
The witch furrowed her brows and ticked her head back in surprise. “Apologies? The Arya I know would never apologize.” Mirabel took a couple of steps toward me, then narrowed her gaze as if scrutinizing my every movement.
Shit. I was about to get discovered.
I held up a hand to stop her. “Enough with the nonsense,” I grunted dismissively. “What do you want? My time is limited,” I asked, allowing a hint of annoyance to show.
Her gaze narrowed even further before she straightened and chuckled. “I was worried for a second, but I see you are Arya.”
I guess I needed to be a bitch for people to believe I was Arya. Go figure.
I hurried her up with an irritated wave of my hand. “Come on, now. I don’t have all the time in the world, Mirabel.” I used her name instead of calling her headmistress. Arya seemed like the type to not care about seniority.
Mirabel scoffed. “I should be telling you that,” she said. “The painting. I’m still waiting on it. You’re late.”
I tilted my head as I started to piece it all together. “I assume that’s why I was accosted by some vampires in the Southern District?” I asked, taking a stab in the dark.
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “They came for you. By the immortals, I knew they were impatient, but I didn’t think they would actually approach you!”
I raised a brow. So it seemed Mirabel was Arya’s contact, and the vampires were Mirabel’s. When Arya was late, the vampires skipped the middleman and went straight to Arya. Damn. This was quite an operation. Did I even take lessons at this school?
“Were you hurt?” Mirabel asked with true concern in her voice as she looked over my hands. No, she wasn’t concerned for Arya, she was concerned for Arya’s tools—her hands.
“No, I’m fine,” I muttered. “Remind me Mirabel: when am I supposed to deliver these paintings? Ever since the accident, everything has been a bit foggy.” I pointed to the side of my head again to emphasize my point.
“The third Sunday of every month,” she crisply answered. “We meet at midnight here at the school. You’re never late.”
I frowned. The third Sunday of every month… When was that? I bit my lower lip and pondered how long ago it was when it hit me.
“That was the day of my accident,” I murmured. “No wonder she never made it. She was gone.”
“Pardon?” Mirabel said.
I waved her off. “Nothing,” I clipped. “I’ll have the painting to you soon.”
“You better, Arya. The vampires are not happy. If they don’t hear from us soon, they’ll come knocking on your father’s door,” Mirabel added with a grimace.
I scoffed. “Yeah, I’d like to see them try.” I had a new secret weapon, as much as I hated to admit it. Klaus might just come in handy, after all.
“I know you like to pretend to act tough, Arya, but we both know you couldn’t swat a fly.” Mirabel rolled her eyes. “In addition to the late one, your next painting is due soon. If you don’t have it ready, you and I will both be in hot water. I know you like to work in advance, so be sure to have everything ready.”
I smiled tightly and nodded.
“Well?” she pushed.
I stood there awkwardly. “Yes?”
“Aren’t you leaving?” she asked with a raised brow. “You usually go to your secret hideout to do your paintings while Maeve is in her lessons.”
So I didn’t stay here… which meant wherever Arya was hiding her paintings and money must be somewhere close to the art school, for her to travel to and from on her own without Maeve. She would have to walk there. Where the hell could it be?
“Oh, uh… I’m not going today, I’m going to wait for Maeve… Actually, I’m going to pull her out of class right now.” I gave another awkward laugh. “Where is she?”
Mirabel frowned and gave me a disapproving scowl. “Why? If you’re not going to paint, you could at least bring me the painting that’s already late.”
I glowered and tapped into my inner Arya. “Since when did I answer to you? I said I would get them to you, so don’t rush me! You’ll get them when I want you to get them!” I lifted my chin haughtily. “Now, show me Maeve’s classroom. We need to leave,” I demanded.
Maeve was surprised when I pulled her out of class, but she knew better than to ask questions. We quickly walked out of the art school with our arms interlocked. I practically dragged her outside and turned left, not knowing if it was the correct direction or not, purely focused on getting away from the school and Mirabel’s accusing eyes.
“My lady, are you okay? What’s going on?” Maeve asked.
“Shh,” I quieted her and tried to put distance between us and the school. Once we were far enough away, I scanned the area and stopped, then turned to Maeve. “I need to ask you a serious question, and you need to answer me truthfully.”
“Of course,” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s about Arya,” I murmured, staring into Maeve’s guileless eyes. “She’s been lying to you. While you’ve been in your art lessons, she’s been going elsewhere.”
“What?” she gasped. “That’s not possible!”
“Shh,” I hushed her and looked around us again to make sure no one was listening. “It is possible. Now listen – you know her best. Wherever she goes must be within walking distance from the school. Where would she go?”
Maeve’s expression turned grave as true concern and worry crossed her features. She spun around, trying to figure out where we were in the Northern District.
“I—I don’t know, I…”
“Relax, Maeve,” I whispered, massaging her shoulders to calm her as she began to tremble with nerves. “Remember your Lady Arya is not here, and she’s not in danger. But whatever she was doing was dangerous and could have potentially put her in danger. We need to figure it out before she returns so we can help her.” I waited until she met my eyes. “Take deep breaths.”
She nodded. “Okay… well, we headed south when we left the school, which is the opposite direction from the Ryder residence, toward the Southern District. But… if we head back toward the school and head east, the Ryders have a beach house nearby. It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s not so bad.”
“Very good, Maeve.” I patted her shoulders reassuringly. “Does anyone live in this beach house?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s generally empty year-round. The only reason Lord Zacharia hasn’t sold it is because it belonged to his late wife and Lady Arya threw a fit when he mentioned selling it.”
“Was Arya close to her mother?”
Maeve shook her head. “No, which was why her reaction was so odd. But no one could calm her down until Lord Zacharia relented and agreed not to sell the house.”
I snorted. That house was undoubtedly her hideaway, the place where she painted and hid all her secrets. That sneaky bitch.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. It felt like we were being watched. I’d bet that whoever was following us would make themselves known soon. And usually, my gut was right.
“Let’s go there now,” I said quickly. “Is it far from where we are?”
“A bit,” Maeve murmured and looked around. “But I don’t have a key.”
“That’s not a problem.” I grinned. Knowing Arya, she’d probably wouldn’t carry a key with her, either. There must be one around the beach house. “Let’s go.”