Chapter 19
I take a message from a sweet hawk, who melts into my open hand. Murmured words and affection are more than enough to get them to part with their scrolls these days. The castle is back to disposing of its own rats.
“I’ll miss you, pretty bird,” I croon to the raptor as it nuzzles the side of its beak in my palm.
I wait until mid-morning, when Alaris is almost always in his office with Dashol or Karns, receiving reports about the territory and household updates.
I try not to think of his intense eyes on me or the significant improvement in my back as I move through the familiar halls.
I clench my jaw as I enter his wing. Even though he infuriates me at times, he’s done nothing but help me.
And I’m planning to use that access and kindness to steal from him.
But he’ll be fine either way. For me, this is a matter of survival.
I walk on light feet past his office, sneaking around the bend and down the corridor that ends in his bedroom. There is no one between me and the double doors ahead, but I hold the message in front of me, like at any moment someone might spring out and demand an explanation for my presence here.
Like every handle I’ve tried in this castle, the heavy doors aren’t locked. I creak one open, revealing an expansive room with an extra-large bed at its center. I step inside and shut the door slowly behind me, sealing myself in with the scent of him: brambles and cloves.
The room is opulent and cluttered, all rich fabrics and deep colors.
Gold leaf stars scatter across the ceiling, fine lines connecting them into constellations.
Crystals hang from thin chains by the window, throwing light around the room.
Candlesticks crowd the hearth, wax pooled at their bases in old layers.
Paintings and carvings fill the walls, and a thick rug covers the floor.
I shouldn’t be surprised. This is the room of a lord who seems to love his silks and has the power to go anywhere. I assume he’s collected these objects from around the continent.
It’s beautiful, but searching it could take forever.
I have to move fast.
I start with the desk, sliding around the books and papers.
I open every drawer. Nothing. The mantle is crowded with objects: a glass orb, a carved wooden box, a crystal bottle containing sapphire liquid.
I skim the spines of books on the shelf, tilting a few, listening for the telltale click of a release mechanism.
Still nothing.
Then to the closet. I flip through soft leather and velvet, and silks so smooth they slip through my fingers.
I feel along the walls behind them, pressing at the wood panels.
My nails catch on the faintest ridge, but it’s only a trick of the grain.
The large mirror at the back is attached firmly to the stone.
I avoid eye contact with myself in it, not interested in any moment of self-reflection about what I’m doing. I let out a slow breath and move on.
I can’t be certain I’ve searched the closet thoroughly, but I hurry to the bed.
It’s the most obvious hiding place, and yet, often a favorite.
The frame is carved into a scene devoted to the god of night, with trees and mountains on the footboard dwarfed by an elaborate cosmos on the headboard, dotted with comets, planets, and constellations.
Several of the gods are in the sky, although it’s harder to recognize them without their signature coloring.
The craftsmanship is breathtaking, each figure rendered in spectacular detail.
I wiggle the carved posts, just in case one twists off like Rinalda’s.
I’m enveloped in the scent of cloves as I climb onto the bed, sliding my knees through the silky sheets to check the headboard.
One of the carved stars is slightly more raised than the others.
Upon closer inspection, it appears to be made up of separate pieces, inlaid so perfectly the lines are barely visible.
I press and twist the star, but nothing happens.
After a few more seconds of trying, I give up.
If I have time after I search the rest of the room, I’ll return to it.
Next, I check the bedside tables. I’m not even sure what I do as I run my hand over the back of one, but a velvet lined drawer pops out.
A large pear diamond sparkles within, set in silver.
I reach out to touch it but remember myself and close my fist. It’s easier to leave it be than to return it to exactly how it was. I slide the compartment closed.
This proves I was right. He keeps precious things close to him, in this room.
Which means I need to keep moving.
I knock on panel after panel, trying to quiet my own heartbeat enough to listen for an echo.
The tenth one I try sounds different. I pull away and examine it carefully, noting one small knot in the wood.
Rinalda had a section of her jewelry box she could only unlatch with a hairpin.
I run to the desk and take a pen, pressing its point into the dark center.
It clicks.
The panel swings outward, revealing a compartment cluttered with documents.
Yes.
I rifle through the papers. I peek inside a large scroll to check if something is hidden in the center. It’s a map of the provinces, nothing more than ink and paper. I reach to the back of the compartment, feeling for the pointed stone…
I still. Footsteps.
I jerk my arm back, heart pounding.
A voice, deep and familiar, murmurs from the hallway.
I click the compartment closed and scurry to the bed, diving underneath just as the door opens.
I stare, wide-eyed, at the two pairs of shoes at the entrance.
One set is unmistakably the lord’s, while the other is a woman’s satin heels, only appearing briefly beneath a rustle of yellow skirts.
Her position between his legs makes it clear what sort of visit this is. I squeeze my eyes shut tight.
Shit, shit, shit.
She moans, then giggles.
“What will the servants think?” he chuckles, voice low, her laughter chasing his as they stumble into the room.
“That you are every bit as debauched as the rumors say,” she singsongs back. “And that I can’t wait to enjoy a taste.”
They shuffle into the room, and the wooden door slams closed. I flatten myself against the floor, pressing my hand over my mouth to quiet my breath. The heeled shoes clack closer and closer, and the bed creaks as the woman sits on it, kicking her dangling feet.
They are going to climb onto this bed and do things to each other right above me. Best case scenario, I’m a miserable witness to the whole thing, undiscovered. My mind goes straight back to the powder room on Somnus. I squeeze my knees together, not ready to hear those kinds of sounds.
“The parties in Torren are dull as ever,” the woman says, her voice melodic. “But Lord Grattle is as big a talker as ever too.” She pauses. I hold my breath through the gap. “Are you waiting for me to take the lead? I know these bedsheets aren’t going to tangle themselves.”
“I’m so sorry, Rialla,” Alaris says, his tone light, but clipped. “I know you traveled far. But I’m going to have to cut our visit short. I have something urgent I need to attend to.”
Her feet and skirts still. “That’s not like you. Are you sure you don’t just have an urgent need of me?”
His boots stay fixed across the room. “Of course I do. But another matter just came up.”
The bed creaks as the lady stands. “But I traveled so far, just for you.”
“And I don’t want you to go far. As soon as this is resolved, I want you back here.” He opens the door. “The kitchen is preparing a fine meal. You enjoy, and I’ll join you after.”
The door shuts. Then, silence.
I relax slightly, returning my attention to the slats above me. As soon as I’ve given them enough time to clear the hallway, I’m going to check inside that big compartment one more time. Then I’m out of here.
This was too close a call. I’m not coming back to this room unless I’m sure Alaris is out of the castle entirely. I listen, straining my ears, seeking the tiniest hint he might return after walking the lady out.
Something grabs my ankle.
I don’t have a moment to scream before I’m dragged out of my hiding place, blinking against the light from the window. I take in that handsome, smirking face, the crystal dangling at his jaw. Somehow, impossibly, Alaris got to the other side of the bed and is now staring down at me.
“I thought you left,” I say pathetically.
Amusement flickers in his dark gaze. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
“No.” I push myself up onto my elbows, scrambling to grab the scroll out of my pocket. “I have a message.”
He snorts and yanks my ankle, sliding me closer. I yelp as I fall back. He’s crouched between my knees now, my skirts bunched around his legs. He takes the paper from my hand, and his onyx hair falls into his eyes as he bends over me.
“How convincing. Try again. I’m usually in my office at this hour, as you well know. What are you up to?”
My mind scrambles for a way out, a convincing story. But on the ground, lying beneath him is…distracting.
The situation sparks a new idea.
“Fine. You’re right. I had a different reason.”
“I’m waiting.”
I keep eye contact and put my chin up, even though my heart is hammering. “I’m here to seduce you.”
He stills, but his surprise passes quickly. “No, you’re not.”
“I am. You accused me of evil thoughts yesterday. And you were right.”
The best lies have some truth. Ever since yesterday, I’ve felt the ghost of his hands on my shoulders. Trying to fall asleep last night, I squirmed at the memory of the way he unwound the knots in my muscles with quiet, unrelenting care.
And Somnus…I have to fight not to remember Somnus every time I glance at his lips.
“I think you’ll say whatever gets you out of this room.”
That smirk. That steady, certain expression. He’s so sure of himself. He thinks he has me cornered, that I’ll stammer and blush and hand him another excuse to dissect.