“I’m getting out of here!” My voice came out shrill, matching the high thread of panic running through me. Daziel was a high shayd? He’dlied. He’d liedintentionally. And I had kissed him; I’d thought we were as close as two people could be—I looked out the open door at the road speeding along beyond my feet.
Daziel reached across me and pulled the door closed, glaring. “You don’t need to jump out of a moving vehicle!”
“A high shayd?” I shoved him hard. “Youliedto me!”
He deflated. “Can we talk about this later?”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have anything else to say.
Aunt Tirtzah took advantage of my silence to lean forward. “What are you doing here, Lord Daziel? Why didn’t you declare your presence?”
Lord. That’s why they were calling him “Lord.” Because he was a high shayd, part of their court.
My aunt pressed on. “You have eaten at my table and been housed by my niece, who clearly adores you, though I suspect you’re going to break her heart. If that’s the case, I’d like to know why.”
I flinched.
Daziel was silent a moment. “I don’t plan to break Naomi’s heart.”
“No one ever does,” Tirtzah said wearily. “Yet it’s so often the outcome. And while my niece is a bright, kind young woman, I’m struggling to envision a world where a high shayd lord marries her.”
A pang stabbed through my chest at her words, and my stomach felt hollow. “I never expected him to marry me,” I managed, trying to preserve some sense of dignity as everything crumbled around me. “It was just an arrangement.”
Daziel looked away. That hurt even more.
Aunt Tirtzah’s voice softened. “It’s been a long day. Perhaps we should rest and talk more in the morning.”
I nodded, numb. I didn’t understand why he’d lied to me. I wouldn’t have cared that he was a high shayd. What mattered was he’d lied, and I’d thought we were too close to lie.
We arrived at the house, and Aunt Tirtzah showed us to one of her guest chambers. It was a beautiful room, wooden framework contrasting with the gray stone walls, the parquet floor gleaming.
“We’re, um…” I paused, then forged ahead. “We’re staying in the same room?”
My aunt’s lips quirked. “This isn’t the plainlands, Naomi. But it’s less because I’m progressive than because this is part of the negotiation.”
I didn’t understand until Daziel spelled it out. “You’re to be my keeper. To report on my comings and goings.”
I stiffened, insulted. “No.”
Aunt Tirtzah looked weary. “That was part of the agreement. For his release.”
“I didn’t agree.”
“I did, on your behalf. You’re a minor. Spare clothes are in the wardrobes and night kits in the washroom. I’ll have dinner sent up. If there’s anything you require before morning, you can find me or Chava in my office for the next few hours, and after you can come to my room. Otherwise, I’ll see you at breakfast.”
She shut the door behind her, and we were alone.
Nineteen
I’d been alone with Daziela thousand times, but this was unlike being alone in my cozy apartment, with its bookcases and warm light. This room, with its high ceilings and sparse furniture, felt unmanageable. Too big for me, too big for my thoughts. They whisked about in all directions but kept coming back to one particular question.
I took a deep breath. “I thought the spell worked because of the binding. But—you’re a high shayd?”
“It did work because of the binding,” he said, black eyes serious. “But…yes. I am.”
Numbly, I sat on the edge of the bed, an elegant thing with posters and linen sheets. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
An almost-weary expression flickered across his face. “Does it matter?”
