I didn’t reply, though I thought on her last question. The Cage had been more than halfway down the causeway. That meant they’d be here in an hour, maybe less.
Enough time for the Shearwaters to mount a defense—but we had less than half their men. And even if the family sent Tigo out…I was certain the Cage would have more Mudmouths than we did.
We.
My treacherous mind snagged on the word. Why was I counting myself among the Shearwaters?
I tried to push away thoughts of the coming clash. With a hundred men, this wasn’t “a little chat” with Rexim…and it didn’t appear to beextortion either. I couldn’t bring myself to think about what it meant. About the Shearwaters—Llir—finding out what I’d done…
As we jogged toward the servants’ parlor, we passed Miss Haney’s office door. To my surprise, it was open, light spilling from inside.
“Miss Haney?” called Debry, making for the door.
I followed. The housekeeper didn’t usually stay up, even if the family were having a late night.
An odd noise reached my ears: something muffled, unnerving.
“Debry…”
But the maid had walked right in. As I stepped around her, she let out a gasp.
The room was lit with smoldering torches, but the grate was cold, the desk clear of papers. A little way inside, I saw four figures. Three on the ground. One sitting in a chair.
Miss Haney, Tigo, and Mawre were kneeling. They were gagged, their wrists and ankles bound. Tigo had a nasty burn on one cheek, his hand ax lying a few feet away. He and Mawre were wearing laconite pendants. As I took them in, their eyes widened; they struggled.
The figure in the chair stood up as I entered. Tall, paper pale, hard-set features, white-blond hair in thick, tight braids. It was the Cormorants’ Sparkmouth, Nemaine.
“Good. It’s you,” she said, her ice-blue eyes taking me in.
My stomach twanged with a horrible confusion, before Debry whimpered and wheeled around. “Wait,” I hissed at her, seeing what Nemaine was holding. But the maid seemed determined to disregard me tonight.
As Debry fled the room, Nemaine sighed and pushed past me, raising the light crossbow she held in her arms.
“What are—”
Snap.
My words cut off at the shot.
I cried out, staggering through the doorway into the hall. Debry lay sprawled out on her stomach, a bolt in her back, long and knifelike and terrible.
I sagged. “What did you do?” I bleated thinly. It took everything I had not to sink to the ground.
“Be grateful,” the Sparkmouth said. “Clean and quick. I could have burned her, I suppose, but that would have been rather noisy.”
She gestured with the crossbow, shepherding me back inside.
“I don’t—I don’t understand,” I stammered. I backed into the room, where the captives looked horrified. “What are you doing?”
She quirked a pale brow. “What do you think?” she answered calmly. “Lord Cormorant told me all about you. We work together; we share the same…sentiments. I take it you know ourmutual friendsare arriving. I am helping to prepare the way. To remove…obstacles.”
“Debry wasn’t an obstacle,” I said, my body shaking.
A sick, guilty relief washed over me at the realization Nemaine wasn’t going to kill me, too. But something about all this didn’t sit right. I couldn’t think through it—I was unbalanced, my mind sluggish.
Nemaine smiled slowly at me, cocking her head. “Of course she was. She would have alerted the castle. It’s best those still abed remain…unaware.”
Mawre, I saw, understood already.
