“… And what if I refuse?”
The inquisitor shrugged. “Then you will swap places with the lovely tavern maid who came by earlier. What was her name … Sara … or was it Luisa? She told me she would sleep in the attic ‘all alone,’ in case I fancied joining her. I doubt she would object to ceding her bed to you if that gets her in mine.”
Semras groaned. “How can you talk like that? Aren’t you a cleric?”
“I am, and a lecherous one, according to Maldoza. Supposedly, I am alsoveryindulgent toward pretty witches like you. As you can see, I am only acting within the confines of your expectations. No need to thank me.”
Her eyes rolled in aggravation. Of course, he’d been joking. Semras knew little about the vows of Elumenra clerics, but she knew the Church frowned upon carnal affairs. She should have remembered that when Themas told her about the rumours, but it had slipped her mind in her fury.
It had something to do with keeping their god above all and avoiding distractions or something—she didn’t recall the words of the sole service she ever attended. The one time she had sneaked into Bevenna’s church to hear one, driven by curiosity, it had bored her out of her mind. She left as soon as she could.
Inquisitor Velten had only joked about the tavern maid; he wasn’t offering an actual choice. Semras had entered his room late at night already, and gossip could spread from less than that. He must have known it too and either gave her the grace of choosing for herself or meant to deceive her into believing she could.
Semras furrowed her brow. “One question …”
“One,” he agreed.
“Why would you go to such lengths to protect witches? You’re an inquisitor. Isn’t it your job to hunt down and kill us?”
He scoffed. “My ‘job,’ you say. No, mycallingis to bring bleakwitches to justice. For this, I need to stay neutral. I cannot cast a wrong judgment, nor a hasty one, lest I condemn an innocent. That is why I protect your kind while I investigate cases. I believe them innocent until proven guilty.” Velten gently pushed down on her shoulders.
Deep in thought, she let him guide her to sit on the bed.
“Enough for tonight,” he said. “We must rise early tomorrow. The maid has prepared a nightgown already, but your belongings are here if you need anything else.” He gestured toward a familiar bag at the foot of the bed—hers, she recognized idly.
That was … surprisingly noble of him to think of her people’s safety. Grabbing the linen nightgown from the bed, Semras stared at it, lost in thought.
Noble, yet still … It meant he had to stay in close quarters with many women. Of what she knew of men and their desires, surely he must have felt temptation?
And Velten had flirted with her.
“You were never tempted? Not by a single witch?”
“That,” he replied, eyes blinking away his fatigue, “is one question too many for tonight.”
Inquisitor Velten walked toward his desk. With practiced ease, he extinguished with his fingers the candles’ flames one by one.
“Has anyone ever tried to hurt you in your sleep?” Semras asked as her fingers worked on the laces of her dress. “While you shared a room, I mean?” She removed her frock, leaving only a shift to cover herself with, and then stopped to glance at the inquisitor.
Enhanced by a fleshwitch’s weaving, the fey blood in her veins gave her nocturnal vision. If he meant to sneak a peek, she’d see it.
Standing with his back turned, Inquisitor Velten was still giving her privacy. Semras slid out of her shift and let it drop loudly onto the floor. Laid bare, her skin raised in goosebumps under the night’s fresh air. She waited for his betrayal.
It didn’t come—his head remained turned away. “Enough, witch, I beg of you.” Velten shifted on his feet. “If you wish to kill me in my sleep, you first need to let me fall asleep.”
Huffing, she grabbed her nightgown and passed it over her head. “I don’twishto—”
“Do not lie; you certainly did earlier! Your eyes were filled with rage,” he replied with a laugh. His mirth faded into a yawn, and he bent down to retrieve a thick roll of linen next to the desk. “I like them like that. Defiant, confident. So few dare to stare me in the eye nowadays.”
Her mistrustful gaze chased him as he walked toward the fireplace. After setting his bedroll down, the inquisitor slipped into it. He hadn’t glanced at her at all, seemingly far more interested in getting some sleep.
Why had the inquisitor waited for her before allowing himself to rest? If he was this exhausted, he could have ended her evening earlier for his convenience—yet, he hadn’t. Velten was more thoughtful than she expected. She might have … misjudged him.
Just might.
Semras settled beneath the blankets. A chuckle floated to her, drawing her curiosity. “What is it?” she asked.
“Oh, I am thinking,” he replied, voice languid. “About your face.”
