The street was well-lit, but there was an air of disuse about the lane. No lights shone from the houses. It was as if they were uninhabited—their plain fronts hiding hollow insides, like empty boxes stacked side by side.
Noble leapt down, all insouciant grace and easy movements. He picked up the two heaviest boxes from my stack and walked toward the front door, leaving me to follow uncertainly in his wake.
The house hummed with power—fresh, vibrant, nothing like the dying whispers at ours. So much magic. I hadn’t felt this much outside a gilded square where dozens of houses pooled resources and sat on embedded estate lines. How did he power it?
The door opened and I was relieved to see a sturdy older woman. I drew close enough to hear Noble ask her whether everything was ready.
“Yes, Master Noble. I received your note. I’ve stocked the pantry and larder. Some hearty stew is still warm near the stove. Everything is cleaned from last time. I’ll come by each morning to help the girl.”
“Thank you, Rosaire.” His voice was rich and warm, nothing like the cold, mocking tones he used with me, or the empty sensual ones he had used on my maids.
The woman, who looked to be a no-nonsense type of matriarch, blushed like a schoolgirl. I tapped a foot in general annoyance at my gender.
She circled me, looking at my serviceable shoes, closely inspecting my face. “Not outstanding or remarkable. Should be an asset.”
“That’s what I thought as well. A face that can be enhanced when needed or go unnoticed,” Noble said, his mouth sleek and satisfied as he smirked at me, deliberately provoking. My fingers itched. I visualized them pinching his arm. Only the wisps of a spell formed.
“Should I send Vivienne with the usual garments?” Rosaire asked.
“Yes, that would be helpful, thank you.”
Rosaire squinted at me. “She’s a bit tall.”
“Shall I give you a look at my teeth too?” I bared my fangs.
“And she has a temper.” Rosaire frowned disapprovingly. “Don’t you give Master Noble any of your lip, young lady. You have no idea what he’s done for—”
“Thank you, Rosaire. If you could speak with Vivienne, I’d appreciate it.” He picked up the boxes from the step where he had deposited them. “Give my regards to Master Rosaire.”
She patted him on the forearm. “I will, dearie. See you soon.” She shot me a warning glare and walked through the front door, shutting it behind her.
The sound echoed in the empty foyer. There were no pot stands or tables, no racks or rugs. Just my boxes, my case, and the two of us.
“Garments? What was she talking about? Who is Vivienne?”
Noble stepped on the first stair. “Vivienne is a seamstress. She will fit you with several outfits. For what we need to do, we can hardly have you walking around in that.” He looked pointedly at my dress. “Come.”
I maneuvered my own box up the stairs—bare as well—to a sparsely finished room on the next floor. There appeared to be two others farther down.
“This is your room.” He put the boxes down. “Mine is down the hall. I’m sure you can find whatever you need. The kitchen is fully stocked. If you need help dressing in the morning, make sure to be up between eight and nine, as Rosaire will check in at that time each day to see if you need assistance. Otherwise, I’ll be obliged to help you. Somehow I expect you will be up at eight.”
“That is the only time there will be anyone else around?”
“I don’t have servants here for the simple reason that the fewer people who know what we are doing, the better. Servants are an invaluable source of information. Something I remember when it comes to my own.” He gave me another pointed glance.
“And Rosaire?”
“Is not a servant.”
“How do you know she’s trustworthy?”
“Because I do. Eat some of the stew downstairs before you wither away. Good night.”
And with that, Gabriel Noble walked through the door, leaving me with three boxes and a case full of items in a cold,nearly empty, foreign room. The click of a door closing down the hall echoed in the bare hallway.
I sank onto the bed. It was soft, but the down was little comfort. It was just a nicer version of a lodging house. A rented room, far from a respectable square. Our dire straits had been leaning in this direction for a while. I had been dreading it, and now it was upon me.
My stomach growled. My pride rebelled. I didn’t want to go downstairs to the kitchen. He would hear me. He’d be smug.
