Chapter 10
I pace the length of my small quarters, tugging the ends of my hair, considering his words. Have I seen any other young women working here?
I review the faces of the staff, most without names because there were few introductions. There are men and women, although fewer women. And among the women, there is the stout maid, the stern cook, the laundress. But young?
I run through the faces again. No. None who I would call young.
But what does that prove? It isn’t like Lord Norville came and found me—I showed up on his doorstep. If he were really hurting women, someone would have intervened. Their families would have raised the alarm. People would know.
So you came from the road. Or the river.
I exhale, kneeling to touch the travel bag I stowed beneath my bed.
I can’t get up and leave in the night on the word of a known womanizer.
Not when I have weeks of evidence of being safe here.
Lord Norville has been friendly, but not overly friendly.
I’ve seen very little of him. And he promised to give me my prophecy.
I’m so close. I doubt I’ll even have to stay here one more week.
If I do, I’ll ask Malda about other young women and examine her reaction. At any sign of hesitation, or defensiveness, or danger, I will be on a ferry by that evening.
I’ll wait, try to get my prophecy, and then see.
Malda appears at the playroom door the next morning: “Lord Norville’s guest would like to meet the children. Bring them to the receiving room right after breakfast.”
I get them through the meal with only a little porridge on Elva’s dress and Ana’s shoes somehow on the wrong feet. I wipe them down and steer them through the corridors.
The manor is a mess. Servants haul away garlands and fabric and crates of melted candles. Curtains and glass and bits of paper litter the floor, the elegant and opulent decor of last night reduced to wreckage.
I pass the corridor near the gaming room. The paneling looks ordinary in daylight, the seam where the passage opens invisible. My hand drifts to my lips, then I turn my chin away.
I don’t regret it, even though it ended badly. In the daylight, I feel foolish for worrying about a stranger’s midnight warning. If the mask hadn’t come off, our walk around the manor and one kiss would have been a perfect night of freedom.
Now, I have to face what many do after a night of freedom: an awkward morning after.
I herd the children into the receiving room, where Norville directs how he wants the family arranged.
“Not there. To the left. The children should be standing, not slouched against the furniture.” His voice is clipped.
I straighten Bowan’s collar and pull Elva’s thumb out of her mouth.
In the morning light, Norville looks deflated. His eyes still have that too-bright quality, but the wildness has gone sickly, like he drank too much and slept too little. I feel silly for lying awake afraid of him, as he fusses over where his children should stand.
Rodania is stationed on the settee near the window, her glassy gaze no more lucid than last night.
Malda opens the receiving room door, and Alaris walks in.
Without the mask, Alaris is even more breathtaking. Rich, forest green silk sets off his onyx hair and cool skin. Heavy brows frame his eyes, with a straight nose giving him an aristocratic air. The sculpted silver did not oversell his sharp cheekbones.
Rings glint at his fingers as he clasps Norville’s waiting hand. Norville cuffs the much taller man’s shoulder. “You survived the night, Lord Alaris. I can’t say I fully remember the end of our game, but if I recall correctly, you were winning.”
“Barely.” Alaris returns Norville’s smile. “You throw a dangerous Somnus party, Lord Norville. I’m not sure my reputation will recover.”
Norville laughs. They look like old friends.
I scowl. You kissed me, warned me away from him, then joined him at the gambling table?
Alaris turns. “You must be the Lady Rodania.” He takes her hand and bows over it. “My lady.”
Even with her wits dulled on whatever tincture keeps her this placid, Rodania has a faint smile for the charming Sovereign of Arastos.
“And these must be your three little ones.” Alaris turns to the children. “Which of you is the eldest?”
Bowan steps forward, chin lifted. “I’m Bowan. I’m nine.”
“Nine. A serious age.”
Bowan stands straighter. Ana peers up at him, while Elva hides behind my skirts.
“My girls are shy,” Norville says. “That’s Ana, and Elva is my youngest.”
Ana is not shy. She bites. But shy is a fine explanation for her current silence.
Alaris’s attention shifts to me. “And who is this?”
“This is Portia,” Lord Norville says. “A recent addition to the staff. Our new governess.”
“Portia, is it?” Alaris smirks.
He’s so pleased with himself now that he’s got a name. Good thing it’s the wrong one. I curtsy as low as my station demands, because I won’t embarrass Norville. But I cannot bring myself to put on my usual polite smile. I glare at him instead.
His smirk grows. “Lovely. I think I’ll stay another night, Lord Norville, if you don’t mind. The scenery here is so beautiful.”
“Of course,” Norville says. “We’ll plan a day for you. The grounds, the orchards, perhaps a ride on the river.”
“If you’ll excuse me, the children have their lessons.” I guide them toward the exit.
Norville waves us off, and I studiously avoid the dark eyes I can still feel on me.
The rest of the day follows the children’s usual routine, or as much of it as possible while the manor wakes up and pieces itself back together.
I keep hoping to pass Norville in the hallway, but I never do.
It feels overeager to interpret “after Somnus” as the very next day. I’ll wait to go to his office tomorrow.
I change into my nightgown and climb into bed but keep the lantern burning. It will make it harder to sleep, but easier to orient myself when the nightmares wake me up. I’m still rehearsing what I’ll say to Norville tomorrow when someone knocks. It must be Malda.
I wrap myself in a shawl, unlock the door, and pull it open.
“Lord Norville,” I say, surprised.
“Portia!” His cheeks are flushed, and he smells of wine. “I’m sorry to bother you so late. Between the holiday and our guest, I haven’t had a moment to find you.”
“It’s no trouble, my lord,” I say, pulling my shawl tighter around me. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to catch up on a few things. The children’s progress. Your future here.” He leans against the doorframe. “May I come in?”
“Ah, I…” I glance at my small room. “It’s quite late. Could I come by your office tomorrow morning?”
“If you prefer.” He leans in. “But I believe you also wanted a prophecy.”
My pulse picks up. This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. “Yes, yes of course.”
“We can’t discuss that where other servants might hear, can we?”
“No!” I don’t want to live in fear another moment. I back up, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
He enters. The room feels so much smaller with him in it. I don’t want to sit on the rumpled sheets, so I stay standing.
He settles against the edge of the table, making himself comfortable. “You want a prophecy.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You understand what you’re asking? A reading of your threads is not a small thing. It’s not something I offer to just anyone.”
“I understand. I would be so, so grateful.”
“Would you?” The corners of his mouth lift.
“Of course,” I say. “What do you need from me?”
“Why don’t we start with…” He claps his hands on his thighs. “What you picture for your future.”
“Well…” I can’t bring myself to say I’m worried about my own death. “I find myself anxious about my future. I think I’ll sleep better at night if I know what’s coming.”
He nods. “You’re so bright. So well-educated for a governess from Trellis. I think your future could look very different from this.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
He gestures around the room. “This is one of our nicer rooms. But I could move you into something better. Closer to the family quarters.”
“Oh…that’s very generous, my lord, but I’m comfortable here.”
“I want you to be more than comfortable.” He stands and takes a few steps toward me.
His eyes pulse purple. The effects of the holiday are still playing on his power.
“I want you to know how much I appreciate what you’ve brought to this household.
My wife, she…she isn’t able to properly care for the children.
And then you show up. So intelligent. So vibrant. ”
But this isn’t the conversation about my future I imagined. My eyes flick to the door. “I appreciate the position, my lord. I do. I was hoping to learn more about what’s in store, beyond that.”
“And I can give it to you.” He smiles. The wine on his breath reaches me in warm waves. “A little gratitude goes a long way in a house like this.”
I don’t sense he is about to close his eyes and start the process of pulling threads.
“My lord, it’s very late.” I back up to the door and fumble it open. I lean against the wood. “Perhaps we can continue in the morning.”
He studies me, taking his time. Relief loosens my shoulders as he crosses to the doorway. But he stops right in front of me.
“I’m not finished,” he says, his voice taking on an edge. “I’m simply trying to get to know you and let you get to know me. You wanted a prophecy, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course…I think tomorrow would be better though.”
His eyes drag over my shawl, my bare ankles. “You’re so tense. Sit down on the bed, Portia.”
He reaches for me as if in slow motion. My pulse is loud in my ears.
I dodge his grasp and slip behind the door. I throw my weight against it. It thuds into him and he stumbles over the threshold. I push him out into the corridor.
“Stop,” he snarls as I force it shut and throw the lock.
Oh no. What did I just do?
My heart pounds against my ribs.
“I’m so sorry, Lord Norville,” I say through the wood. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Silence.
“I’m very tired. Can we please talk in the morning? I’ll come to your office first thing.”
I wait. He must be furious.