“Is that how he thinks of her?”
“It’s what we all think. Too sharp-tongued for being so plain and spellweak. No one wanted her even before Third went round the spell.”
Something fell and smacked the floor. I continued to watch the swing of the pendulum, ticking each plain, sharp second.
“Here it is.” A swish of a skirt and the solid sound of a book hitting a palm.
What would Noble do with Kennen’s journal? Half-formed thoughts of him selling it just like the servants raced through my head. He had given me no reason to think he’d live up to his name. And if my own house was profiting, what was to stop a stranger from doing worse?
“Have you read it?”
I squeezed my eyes closed, the sensation of fainting washing over me—a constant companion since our decrease in food stores. I’d given him access to everything. What had I done?
“Neh, I can’t spellbreak. That’s for footmen to learn. I can do lots of other, better things, though.”
“Of course you can. You seem very diligent.”
Sable cooed. I thought somewhat viciously that she likely had no idea what diligent even meant. There was no sound for a moment, and then she moaned, low and breathy—the sound of a woman experiencing the finest of delicacies. The hair on my body rose, my stomach heaved.
“Now be a good girl and fetch all the rest.”
“Yes, right now, I’ll fetch everything.”
There were a lot of shuffles and bumps. And an awful, grating titter—like a carriage wheel rubbing against its post.
“Ah, perfect. And that as well. You are a gift from the heavens, Sable.”
The carriage wheel scraped along a jagged rock. “Anything for you, my lord. Anything.”
I could stand it no longer. I tiptoed down the hall and then stomped back along my path. The maid’s grating carriage laugh came to a halt.
I plastered a fake smile on my face and rounded the doorway. “Ah, Sable, there you are. Please help the men downstairs. They are looking for my parasol. It seems to be missing.”
My parasol was in the accessory chest in my room.
Sable opened her mouth with disdain, but Noble beat her to it. “A proper mage can’t be without her parasol.” His tone was offhand, but his eyes didn’t move from mine—watching me for something.
Sable threw me a look drenched in venom, then turned back to Noble, all sweetness and light. “I will fetch it and return.”
I curled my own fingers into my palms with enough force to break the skin.
Sable strode from the room without another glance at me. Her footsteps pounded down the stairs.
“You.” I pointed my finger at him, too angry to care that it was shaking.
“Me,” he said mockingly, then threw Kennen’s journal at my feet.
I knelt and placed my hand on the leather cover—anger and anxiety replaced with confusion and uncertainty. “What?”
“Are you going to convince me that you weren’t listening outside the door?”
I stared at him, uncomprehending. No one ever knew I was there. It was the only thing I could rely on.
I was so tired all of a sudden—the last hundred hours collapsing in on me. Exhausted. This man completely unnerved me as he carelessly flicked at my foundational supports, occasionally taking a swipe at the bottom of the stack, destroying the base for everything else.
“Pick it up.” Something dark laced his tone. “Or shall we leave it here for your loving maid to sell to the highest bidder?”
Angry atme? What gavehimthe right when he was the one using his dark wiles? “I wouldn’t want your efforts to go to waste. Perhaps I should leave you here to sex all the information right out of her.”
