“They only cover two of his limbs now,” I say. “Benji’s debt.”
“But in a few years, it could be back to four again. Yours could wrap around all four if you anger a fae enough. And…and now me as well, I guess. It’s a rather capricious feeling.”
“The head of House can grant legal protections to avoid that,” I say.
“But not the Heart.” Kassandra chews on her lip. “The head of House can also appoint a new accountant and advisor. One who may have seen personal Vandorne documents in the past.”
I raise a brow. “One who was a personal valet to the king?”
She nods, then looks at me. “I harbor much fear.”
“As do I.”
“So where does that leave us?”
I take a breath. “We can either act while afraid or never act at all.”
Before Kassandra drops the wall of hardened air, she tosses a look to the executioner.
“Bit creepy, no?” she says.
“I thought you liked looking at other females.”
That gets me a shove, but as my mistress turns away, the faintest smile graces her lips.
Chapter Forty-eight
The executioner brings me tothe dark shadows of the servants’ corridors. Even after my body adjusts, the Pith vibrates with energy.
“The king,” he says.
“I’ll stay clear.”
He holds my forearm as a dense weight settles in the air around me, the smell of my genius smothered. “Meet back here in an hour,” he says, then puffs away.
I creep down the hallway, toward Lila’s room. It wasn’t a complete lie to want to collect her belongings, especially one. Murmurs whisper across the stones from the Mouth, and after the fading of footsteps, I round the corner barefoot.
In front of her door, I kneel and pick the lock, then slip inside. They haven’t cleared her room yet, either. In fact, they’ve added flowers, beads, anything bright and creative. Scraps of parchment are grouped throughout the room in piles.To Lila, love, Fern.Another pile readsTo Lila, from Carter.Over and over again, I pick up letters addressed to my wonderful friend, from all the friends she made in her time here, squirreling away the notes in my pockets to deliver to her.
Then I unpeel the putty that secures her art to the wall. Exposing the niche, I retrieve her father’s keys, securing the art in place.
The door clicks behind me. I whirl around. Fern steps throughwith a candle. She gasps, pulling back. My heart pounds, but I put a finger to my lips, pleading.
“What are you doing here?” she whispers, placing the candle holder on the floor.
“Collecting Lila’s belongings to bring to her,” I say. “Please, I’m not supposed to, but—”
“You’re alive.” The cook barrels toward me, wraps thick arms around me. “Oh my planes,” she hiccups. “You survived.”
I blink, tears filling my eyes once more.
“When we found Lila—” Her voice falters. “Lila was so—”
“I know.”
“My poor Lila. He hadlefther. He left her in the library after doing that to her.”
“I know,” I croak. “I know and I am so, so sorry.”
