These were the men Finn seemed to put a lot of faith in, which meant maybe I should give them a warning, first. I nodded anyway. “Ernald probably has secret rooms everywhere for people to watch things. And yes, I can read lips if we need it.”
At this point, it occurred to me that we would run into people I knew at the music hall. And those people would be calling me “Lila.”
“Tell me how long you worked for Ernald,” he murmured.
“Since I was seven.” That was the truth.
“But you were a child.” His voice was a sharp blade.
My eyes widened. “Oh, not as a courtesan. I helped him discreetly transfer goods around the city.”
“That sounds like quite the euphemism.”
“He’s a respectable businessman.” That was Ernald’s favorite lie.
“A thief at seven. I suppose that explains why your parents didn’t bother teaching you to read.”
My stomach clenched. Learning to read wasn’t going to help us eat, was it?
Mum had raised me and Alice all on her own. She’d been a pretty good mum, too, before Alice disappeared. Good enough that we were as clean and well-fed as possible. She helped keep food on our table, told us stories.
“My mother did the best she could,” I said defensively.
“You don’t mention a father.” His deep voice reverberated around the carriage.
“I never had a father. Her husband was hanged before I was born, outside Ludgate Prison. She took me to see the prison once. Warned me that if I was going to break the law, I better not get caught. She read me the sign above the door. Abandon hope all ye who enter here.”
“Her husband,” he repeated. “You don’t call him your father.”
I turned, looking out the window, and my breath fogged the glass. “I was a foundling. When I was a baby, someone left me on her doorstep. Mum took me in, fed me, kept me warm. We’re not related by blood, but she…” I nearly said she and Alice. “She was all I had.”
His eyes seemed to sharpen, piercing into me. “Now that is interesting. You could be anyone.”
“I could be anyone, but I’m no one.” I felt the air growing cooler, and wished I hadn’t revealed so much to him. “No one at all.”
The rain poured down on us as we crossed through the gatehouse. The count seemed to be ignoring me entirely again. With his cloak billowing around his body, he stalked through the first set of arches, too fast for me to keep up with. He slipped into the night.
As I walked into the courtyard, two Clovian soldiers closed in, flanking me. Seems I’d be escorted to my room.
I glanced at one of them—a dark-haired man with a flat nose. “Where do the servants live?” I asked.
“In their homes.”
I frowned. “Not here? In the castle?”
He shrugged. “A few here at night. Most come in the day.”
“Why don’t they stay here?”
He shot me a dirty look, like I was annoying him. “Because of what happened.”
The hair rose on the back of my neck. “And what happened?”
A heavy silence rolled over us as we walked toward the castle.
“What happened?” I asked again.
Another blasé shrug. “Someone killed most of the servants.”
The words were like a fist to my throat. “Who? Why?”
“I don’t know,” he said sharply. “Stop asking questions.”
“Most of them. But not all of them?” I was grasping at straws.
“Not all of them.”
Now, more than ever, I needed to hunt around for clues to Alice’s disappearance.
“The ones who survived—”
The guard held up a hand. “You ask too many questions. She is too curious, is she not?”
The other nodded. “We will be making sure you do not indulge your curiosity.”
I was starting to understand these men would be guarding my door. And that would be a huge problem.
Unless …
I caught my foot on the back of my calf, pretending to stumble on the grass. And when I fell, I snatched a handful of the nightshade in my fists. “Oh dear! This grass is slippery.” I pretended to flail again for a moment, while I let my cloak fall around me, shielding the nightshade.
Grumbling, one of the guards helped to steady me.
In the pouring rain, we climbed the steps up to the castle doors. Even though it was my second time coming in here, my breath still caught at the grandeur, at the intricate stonework so high above me as I stepped inside.
As the guards escorted me through the halls, my mind whirled. This would be my one chance to explore. I’d need to make the most of tonight.
If I was correct, the guards wouldn’t remember much of the evening. With an empty bottle of wine or two at their feet, they would assume they’d drunk themselves into a stupor. If I was wrong and they knew what I’d done, I could find myself on that scaffold, my neck on the execution block.
I tightened my fists around the nightshade.
We climbed the long flights of stairs in silence, and I considered how to get the soldiers to let down their guard around me. Getting people to like me was not part of my skillset, but I’d seen how some of the other thieves did it. I’d seen Zahra soliciting new clients.
So as we walked up the stairs, I sighed and said, “Sure seems lonely in this place.”
The soldiers didn’t respond. One of them walked silently behind me, the other in front. With one of my hands, I clutched the nightshade in my cloak. With the other, I traced my fingertips up the rail as we climbed the stairs.
Let me try again. “What do you two men do for fun?”
No answer again. I was going to have to properly flirt, wasn’t I?
I turned to the man behind me, and tried to give him Zahra’s signature look—head tilted down, from under my eyelashes. “Don’t you have fun?”
He had thick eyebrows and small, blue eyes. “For fun? We drink, and we fuck. Like everyone else.” His Clovian accent was thick, with rolling R’s. He nodded at the stairs. “But neither with you. You’re off limits. So keep moving.”
Off limits.
Drinking was the only idea I needed. By the time we got to my room, I was desperate to get away from them to concoct my little soporific potion.
Except when they opened the door, I found I wasn’t alone.
Lord Sourial sat at the large table, sipping from a flask. He’d also brought several bottles of wine with him, it seemed. In the hexagonal room, the candlelight danced back and forth over the stone walls, over Sourial’s bare chest.
“I’ve been waiting for you. Why do you look like you’re up to no good?”
17
Lila
The corner of his mouth quirked, and a lock of his wavy hair fell in front of his eyes. He struck a louche pose, his feet resting on a chair, a flask dangling from his hand. A little stack of books sat next to him on the table.
“What are you up to, Zahra? What are you hiding?”
Bollocks. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m not sure I like that greeting. And here I thought we were friends.”