Chapter Twenty-Nine
Gandrett marked every turn, every door, every narrow window on the way back to her chambers. The path Addie was leading her wasn’t the route the members of this court were taking, but a narrow corridor that seemed to be exclusive to servants, some of which glanced at Gandrett, her dirty clothes and probably face, too, as they bustled along to take care of their chores during this cheery night of Demea’s celebrations. She marked those faces, too, and was relieved neither Deelah nor the middle-aged man who seemed to be reporting directly to Armand weren’t among them
After a couple of minutes of ascent through narrow stairwells, Addie pointed left where the corridor split. “This leads to the west tower,” she said, face unreadable. “Follow the main corridor, and you’ll end up right by the young lord’s door.” Something bitter entered her tone, but Gandrett didn’t dare inquire.
“Thank you, Addie,” she gave the girl a half-smile. “If there is anything I can ever help you with, let me know.”
Addie’s eyes widened, but she said nothing as she smiled and disappeared back the way they’d come.
Gandrett didn’t waste any time looking after her, but instead took the left path and followed it with a tight chest until it opened into the wide hallway Armand had led her down earlier that night. She loosed a breath. She was safe—or as safe as anyone could be in this castle.
She made her way, sneaking from doorway to doorway until she got to familiar black doors engraved with silver stars. The guards were gone, and Gandrett didn’t stop to marvel at the carving before she ran to her own chambers, the rustling of her skirts the only sound filling the air.
She had never been more relieved to see a door close behind her. As it clicked shut, she closed her eyes and leaned against it, resting her head against the wood behind, and she took deep breaths, trying to calm her beating heart. She was lucky those guards were no longer at Armand’s doors or they might have—
“How nice of you to return,” Armand’s voice greeted her from the other end of the room, making her heart stop and her eyes snap open. “I was beginning to wonder if I am really that terrible of a host.”
To Gandrett’s relief, there was no anger on his features as he rose from the crimson sofa where she had woken up only hours ago.
“I was coming here to—” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes going distant, and he shook his head. “I don’t really know why I came here.” He rubbed the bridge between his eyes with two fingers as if he was thinking hard. “Anyway, I found your chambers empty.”
Gandrett was still recovering from the shock. She knew what her dirty clothes and face must look like—like she had tried to run. She braced herself and decided to take the same approach she took during a sword fight. Assess her opponent, find his weaknesses, bring him down.
The dagger on her thigh weighed heavily as she took a step toward the young lord.
“Didn’t you know it’s impolite to intrude into the chambers of a lady uninvited?” Mckenzie’s words. “I could have been… indisposed,” she chose her wording carefully, watching his face change to confused. He was in a strange mood. She could tell from the look on his face, his eyes still looking her over.
“You don’t look indisposed to me at all, Lady Starhaeven.” He pulled his lips upward at the edges, the resulting smile not in the slightest resembling anything she had seen on those features before. “Dirty, but not indisposed. Have you been out on a night stroll?” he offered, smile tightening. “You could have asked me to join.”
“You sent me away,” she poked, and by the flare in his eyes, she knew she had found it. His pride was what weakened him. And that was probably why he had come to her chambers—to make sure the impression she had of him wasn’t weak. “You’ll probably kick me out in the morning anyway… as I was useless for your entertainment.”
There it was. No restraint lingered in her words, no leash keeping her thoughts to herself as she hit him with words she knew would trigger him in his pride.
She needed to keep a clear head even if she was drained. She had almost frozen down there in those tunnels. Did he know? Had he sent her there and was only checking in to see if she had survived.
Armand’s smile had vanished, leaving his features blank.
“Where were you?” he asked flatly.
Gandrett took another step closer. If she made it past him to her bed, she could grab Nehelon’s knife from her pillowcase. Then there was still the dagger on her thigh even if she had no intention of revealing her legs before him. How she yearned for her plain acolyte uniform so she’d be able to fell him with a few jumps and kicks.
“I won’t ask again,” Armand eyed her with a gaze that didn’t allow for defiance.
So Gandrett took another step and changed her tactics, giving him an icy look. “I slipped in your secret, little passageway so I went to find someone to bring me clean clothes to wear.” She took another step, getting close enough to her bed to dart for it if he attacked.
But his eyes shuttered. “What?” He stared at her as if she didn’t make sense.
Oh, this was already so off-track. Where had the illusion of Lady Starhaeven gone?
Gandrett sighed through her nose. “I slipped.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the icy caverns under the castle, the whispering shape in the dark, the minutes she’d thought she’d freeze down there. “And now let me go take a bath so I can get an hour of sleep before you kick me out.” She stepped even further toward her bed, making it look like a subconscious gesture.
He didn’t seem to notice.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” His voice was raw, eyes two hazel disks that let Gandrett glimpse a different Armand than the one she’d met.
The words were on her tongue—ready to be released. Because I don’t believe you would have helped me.
He read them in her eyes anyway. “I saved you in the forest, Gandrett. I brought you back to Eedwood castle to have my healers look after you.” His throat bobbed. “Do you think I wouldn’t help you with something as easy as fresh clothes?”
His answer left her empty.
Armand sat back down on the sofa and crossed an ankle over his knee. His hands dug into his hair as if he was trying to make sense of something, pulling strands out of his ponytail.
Gandrett watched him, taking the moment of silence to breathe and remind herself that she wasn’t there for Joshua Brenheran, no matter how much any captive deserved to be freed, but for her family—to see them again.
“You’re right, milord.” She sought his gaze and sat on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap. “I should have come to you instead.”
He gave her a nod as a sign of appreciation. “What makes you think I’ll kick you out in the morning?” His features were open, not the cocky, cheery, young man or the evil lord she had expected, but someone with an honest interest in her thoughts. She swallowed.
“Word spreads within the castle,” she said with a shrug. The conversation had taken a turn from which there was no going back anyway.
His lips curled. “Gossip spreads fast in this castle,” he agreed, “but only the gossip I want to be spread.” He winked, some delight returning to his face.