A solid but muffled thud coming from the corridor beyond the door caused Iris to lift the nib of her quill. She froze, listening to what sounded like garbled conversation. Another thud—a door, it must be—and then all was silent. She looked back to the page.
—as there have been several—
Another thud, this one closer. It was a door farther down the corridor, and if the echoing slam was any indication, doors were opening and closing all along her passage.
And drawing closer. A search? Had someone else gone missing?
Iris scrambled her pages together, sending up a little prayer that the ink wouldn’t smear too badly as she shoved them into the portfolio. She scooted from the edge of the bed, causing Satin to blink and regard her disinterestedly for a moment before curling back into himself and closing his eyes. Iris placed the portfolio and bag into the hole in the panel and fastened it into place just as the knock sounded on her door.
She straightened and composed her expression as she rested her hand on the latch. “Who is it?”
“Beryl?”
“Master Boyd?” She slid back the bolt and opened the door a crack. His wide form blocked the corridor beyond him so that she had no idea if he was alone.
He stood there, his chiseled face in the shadows, staring at her, saying nothing fora long moment.
“Master Boyd?” she prompted.
“Is Sir Lucan with you?”
Iris knew her eyes widened. “Why wouldyou ask that?”
“Och.” He gave an awkward, hitching bow. “Good evening, Beryl,” hesaid solemnly.
Her face softened. He’d thought she’d been questioning his manners.
“Good evening, Master Boyd. No, Sir Lucan is not here. What made you think he would be?”
“I…I doona know where his chamber lies. I assumed it was along this corridor…”He trailed off.
“I believe Sir Lucan is residing in the soldiers’ quarters,” she supplied. “In the bailey. Remember?”
“Oh, aye. That’s right.” He nodded, his handsome face a mask of seriousness. “He’s nae hereat all, then.”
“No, he’s not.”
“You’re certain?”
“He’s in the bailey.” She began to push the door closed. “Good night, Master Boyd.”
“Wait,” he said, grasping the edge of the door and moving forward. “Beryl.”
Her heart skippeda beat. “Yes?”
“Could I…could I come in?”
Iris’s eyes widened again. “Master Boyd, that is not at all proper for a gentleman to suggest to a lady.”
“But you’re nae lady,” he rushed, and then at her indignant expression, he realized his faux pas. “What I mean is that I have some questions about—” He glanced down once and then backed up suddenly into the corridor. “What the hell’s that?”
Satin slinked through the crack in the door and into the corridor toward Padraig, his tail stiff in the air, onlythe tip waving.
“Oh, God, get him,” Iris whispered frantically as she came into the corridor.
Padraig was still backingup. “Get him?”
“Pick him up!” Iris hissed. “Please!”
