I rolled off his lap and slumped next to him. He tugged the thin duvet I’d piled upon the chaise down and tucked it around us. Sliding his arm across my shoulders, I drooped into him, defeated. There were some parts to my story I could tell him without endangering either of us.
“I grew up on the outskirts of town, this is the first time I’ve been back since...well…when I was younger, I couldn’t sleep one night. There was a raging storm catapulting branches against the house and slamming the window shutters against the glass. It felt as if the whole world was about to crumble.
“So, I crept into my parents' bed and nestled in between them, cocooned within the warm goose-down and fell into such a deep sleep I didn’t wake for almost a day. I never slept in. We were up at dawn and awake until dusk, working on the small farm, but that night, it was late afternoon by the time I finally crawled out from under the covers. The clouds hung low and heavy in the sky, the sun obscured, so for a while I thought it was dawn.
“But the smell.” I shuddered, and his fingers stroked circles on my arm, keeping me tucked closely beside him. “I knew what clotted blood smelled like and the acrid ammonia of spilled urine that infiltrates your sinuses. Before I even looked, I knew. I’d slept through everything.”
I sighed. “Anyway, it was always the same. If I let my guard down, it was always at night that things happened. My money stolen, my bounty nabbed. I was stabbed once. Okay twice.” His hand tightened on my arm. “But it never happened when I slept alone because you don’t truly sleep. Your senses never turn all the way off. And then here, the other night, I fell asleep with Lilyanna and woke up in that mausoleum you keep above your room.”
“It’s not mine.” He bent and kissed my hair, gently pushing my head back upon his shoulder. “And why are you always in danger?”
I gripped the edges of the duvet, slowly ripping the threads beneath my fingers. “I was roped into a deal with the devil. It wasn’t mine to make nor mine to refuse. My life was tied into those of two others, the Collectors. They were saved from death and allowed a second chance at life, but they must collect the bounties I find.” My eyes drifted closed as his fingers stroked through my hair, my grip on the duvet weakening. “If a Collector or their bounty hunter fails or is caught, the Collectors die, and the hunter takes their place. So if I fail, I become a Collector and am then at the mercy of another. Simple.”
He gently untangled my fingers from the covers and held my hand within his. “Might be simple, but it’s not fair.”
I snorted an agreement. We remained in comfortable silence, my breath deepened, matching the sonorous rhythm of his.
“Why are you here, Tamara?”
“For the Sheriff.” I yawned. “I was supposed to have a free ride with his capture but then was given another job.” The lie came easy. I’d already told him more than anyone before. Only Siobhan knew the intricacies of my deal, the story of my life so far, and that was because she orchestrated it all. “But I can’t leave Lilyanna here.” Over the years, I’d found that the best lies were always laced with the truth.
Clement murmured his agreement, resting his chin atop my head.
My stomach churned. Bile laced with sickly cherries inched up my esophagus. What I would give to tell him everything, to have him help me get to the prince and complete my mission. But he’d never agree. His whole life had been protecting the prince. He knew the risks of working in this castle, he knew what really lived and breathed in the walls more than he let on.
“I don’t feel well,” I whispered. “You should go now.”
He shushed me, keeping his head pressed atop of mine. “Try and sleep. Nothing will touch you while I'm here, Tamara.”
“Don’t call me that,” I mumbled.
The room spun around me as my eyelids slid closed. But with every loop, I nestled closer into his embrace, tucked tightly against him. Don’t go to sleep, echoed in my churning body, fading with every ricochet until I passed out.
CHAPTER TWENTY
OMENS
Nothing happened that night.
No handprints, no creepy giggles, no abductions. That said, I was basically unconscious and could have been dragged down to the gates of Hell themselves and not awoken.
Clement snuck out early, presumably resuming his position with the prince. He kissed my hair softly, but I pretended to be asleep, foggy memories of what I’d said to him threatening to resurface along with the cherry concoction churning in my stomach.
I moved along the stone walls gently tapping each join, scratching my nails down the chalky mortar until Lilyanna’s door whispered open. She studied me with her hands on her hips, blonde hair in its usual wild morning state, but still beautiful. I’m sure I looked like I’d been dragged through the walls and partied all night with the gargoyles.
“Nothing happened last night because Clement was here.” She stifled a yawn, pulling the cream robe around her. “And he controls them.”
I rolled my eyes at her, pausing mid-tap. “It’s not him. If it’s anyone, it’s the prince. When is it ever the loyal, humble, and dare I say it, very sexy, servant?”
She scoffed. “This time.”
I grunted and resumed my search for vents, peep holes, or anything that shouldn’t be there. “I did have an epiphany last night though.”
She plopped down on the chaise, swung her legs up, and nodded.
I held her gaze. Both of us were too astute, too suspicious by now to glance at the ceiling or indicate the hearth, but a silent message of agreement passed between us.
“So, perhaps we should venture out into the city at some point. We’ve been cooped up here for weeks. Some fresh air would do your complexion a world of good. If we go through the servant’s door at night when the kitchens are empty, there shouldn’t be a problem.”
