Themashadaplan,yet his words made her think of another. It depended on who exactly the knight was expecting,but she had a good guess. Before long, she learned that she’d been right.
For at noon, two days later, Inquisitor Cael Callum sent a message.
He was coming.
Chapter 23
Despitewhatthemonsterhad affirmed back then, it hadn’t taken a month for Inquisitor Callum to answer the summons of his peer. Exactly two days later, his missive came in a few hours right before noon, throwing the entire household into chaos.
Semras learned of it from Themas after he softly knocked on her door. Even if he hadn’t informed her, she’d have noticed the hasty preparations to welcome the important visitor.
In front of her locked door, hurried servants ran loudly to answer the demands of the head maid. Her strict orders and urgent requests penetrated the walls of the witch’s cell for hours.
Amidst all the chaos, Semras hadn’t been forgotten. Maraz’Miri came into her prison soon after to throw open the curtains and drop a dress of a dark lilac on the remains of her bed. After bribing her with a few sips of gin, the veiled assassin helped her bathe and get into the frock.
It had been days since Semras last felt so thoroughly cleaned. Every night since her captivity began, her captor’s servants had drawn warm baths for her, and every night she had rejectedthem. Only when she could muster the strength and the patience to make it through the chore with bound hands by herself had she used the warm water.
Her captor had seen fit to doll her up today; she dreaded why. None of the reasons she came up with boded well for her, but one thing was clear: he wanted to conceal her status as a prisoner. Long sleeves and a pair of large lady gloves fully covered her shackled hands, while the jewellery forcefully clasped around her neck jingled to conceal the sound of their chains.
Her reflection in the mirror almost broke her.
The dress. Made of Senan silk and dyed a dark lilac, the gown looked exactly like the one she had demanded from him to replace her ruined velvet dress a week ago. Another mockery of his making, another one of his deceptions. He had played her from the very start.
But she wouldn’t have to play along for much longer. Now that she had secured Themas’ affection, he would keep his word, and she’d be out of here soon, never to return.
Hecameanhourafter Maraz’Miri left.
Finger pressed to his lips, Themas opened the door and motioned for her to follow. “The inquisitors are in the private parlour on the first floor. I had hoped they would have kept to the ground floor and cleared the way to the west wing, but … we’ll have to make do. Oh, here, before I forget.” The knight plunged his fingers into her cleavage.
Recoiling, Semras clasped her hands over her mouth before a gasp could escape her. Something small and cold slid between her breasts, and she looked down to see a metallic object resting between them.
“The key to your room,” Themas said. “I used soap and melted tin to make a copy, just in case I—if something happens, and I can’t help you anymore.”
“Thank. You,” Semras said through pressed lips. His unwelcome, unexpected touch tempered her gratefulness, but she kept her complaint to herself. Now wasn’t the time to alienate her only ally. “You’re surprisingly sneaky for a knight. Soap and tin, hmm?”
He shrugged, smiling. “You learn a couple of tricks on the streets.” Wincing at his own words, he turned away and walked down the corridor. “Um, I mean … alright, I admit I was not always an outstanding citizen.”
Eyebrow arched, Semras followed him. Her lips curled into a mirthless smile. “I would never have imagined you as anything other than the perfect knight. I used to think you came straight from a fairy tale, but now you’re making me doubt myself.”
“You, um … you like me that way?” he asked, a blush dusting his cheeks.
The smile on her lips froze.
The monster had told her something similar not so long ago, but he had spoken the words with infallible certainty then, whereas Themas hesitated. Bitterness filled her mind at knowing which one had been right, once.
They made their way down the corridor silently after this, her mood haunted by regret and hate. Themas knew the mansion well; he guided her to a small side door and opened it to reveal a tight staircase beyond. It looked similar to the one she had peeked at the last time she escaped her room.
“Servant’s stairs,” he whispered. “Take my hand. It’ll be dark.”
The gloomy darkness couldn’t faze her altered eyesight, but the knight didn’t know that. Semras still took his hands, more to ensure his safety than hers.
Once they reached the small landing leading to the first floor, Themas sneaked a glance through the door’s keyhole, then let out a storm of curses. “Sir Ulrech is guarding the hall. I’ll have to distract him. As soon as he’s gone, sneak to the door on the right, the one just behind the grand staircase. That’s the entrance to the west wing. Don’t go left; that’s the parlour.” Themas paused, brow creasing. “I hate to say this too, but … don’t try the front door downstairs. Inquisitor Callum came with his retinue, including his Venator knight, Sir Sevran Galdeli. You’ll be caught immediately. So right door, not the left, not downstairs. You got that?”
The witch nodded. She certainly did. The man who had betrayed her lay behindthatdoor.
“Good. Listen, if something happens, go back to your room and stay put. Don’t take needless risks. And remember,” Themas said, cradling her face gently, “we need to know what’s hiding in the west annex. We need the leverage to free you.”
He kissed her. Semras let him take what he wanted, then watched silently as he exited the staircase and went to Ulrech. Through the keyhole, her eyes tracked him walking toward the older knight.
