She scoffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t recall agreeing to that.”
“Are we to bicker like children every single time you refuse to honour your word?”
“You cannot possibly believe you can demand such a horrible thing from me,” she replied, fuming. “I am a witch; this is how I live and breathe. Forbidding me to weave is akin to asking me to shed my skin! I’ll wither and fade intonothing. You cannot demand it.”
“I can, and I still do. Do not force me to make you abide—”
“Break the bones of my fingers, then, Estevan! The blood of the Fey flows in my veins. I can’t exist without the Arras. I can’t ignore its call.”
The inquisitor leaned back in his seat, abandoning his quill pen on the desk. His gaze dropped to the stains of ink slowly permeating the paper. “I understand. By the Radiant Lord, I understand,” Estevan murmured. “Can I at least ask you to keep your magic out of my affairsandout of sight? At the very least? I know you would slip between my fingers even if I forced you to agree. So just … do not let me catch you.”
It was an olive branch, but Semras felt bitter, unwilling to take it. “Oh, I’ll agree … if you beg,” she said, smirking mockingly.
Her smile dropped as soon as the legs of his chair rattled against the floorboards. Inquisitor Velten stood and stalked around the desk to join her.
Semras watched him approach, ready to bolt out of the door at the slightest provocation.
He gave her none. Before her bemused eyes, Estevan fell to one knee. “I beg you,” he said softly. “O Daughter of the Night, I beg of you to heed my request. It is anathema to you, yet crucial to me. Know that I do not ask it lightly.”
The sight of the mighty inquisitor on one knee, begging—begging!—so softly, disarmed her. Her throat dried up, refusing to let out any words, and she gave him a stiff, tiny nod instead, still gaping at him in disbelief.
Taking her hand in his, Estevan slowly turned her palm to the floor, then kissed the top of it. “Thank you.” His breath tickled the sensitive skin of her knuckles.
Semras blinked. She needed the guidance of the New Maiden; these Deprived rituals were too confounding. “What is this for?” she asked.
“This is to honour your grace. I know that I, by nature, give many orders and few reasons they are needed. I know that you, by nature, flee the binds thrown around you. This”—he looked pensively at her hand still held in his—“feels like the first time we are truly listening to each other.”
Semras mulled over his words. “Do you remember the rule ofxenia, Inquisitor? When we first sat and drank together?”
“I do. You said it served to convey a mutual understanding.”
A hesitant smile graced her lips. “I have not eaten nor drunk since I arrived here. You haven’t welcomed me in, not on terms I can accept.”
“I see … Do you spot the little bell button on the wall by the desk?” he asked. “Push it with your magic.”
“Now you are asking me to weave?”
He winked. “I have been rumoured to consort with witches occasionally.”
Rolling her eyes, she did as he asked, chasing away thoughts ofhowexactly he had consorted with Nimue.
At the pull of a thread, a clear chime rang down within the walls.
“The bell leads to the kitchen,” the inquisitor said. “It will summon us some sustenance. I have neglected you in my haste to set my investigation in motion. For this, I apologize.” He braced himself on the arms of her chair, preparing to stand from his kneeling position.
Semras frowned. There was something stiff, unnatural to his movements—he was favouring one side more than the other.
With a hesitant hand, Semras stopped him. “Your wounds. May I—if it’s not too forward … You said to keep my magic out of your affairs, but this …” Her fingers hovered near his chest. “This is my fault. Let me see what still hurts you.”
“You made me beg you, on myknees,” Estevan replied, a grin spreading across his lips. “And now you get shy at the mere suggestion of healing me? You are too precious for this world, and I am too much of a bastard not to take advantage of it. Help me undress, and I will allow you to lessen your guilt.”
“You are infuriating.” Semras huffed as she worked on unbuttoning his collar. “Utterly infuriating.”
“You love me that way, don’t you?”
Her hands froze.
The inquisitor’s smile vanished like smoke after a draft of wind. “I—My apologies. This went beyond the line of propriety. I-I was thoughtless. Forgive me.”
