“Of course I know the way to Von Nevus’s rooms.” Elodie resumes leading me through the labyrinthine halls. “You don’t need anyone but me,” she adds, quiet but firm. Possessive almost. Or am I imagining it?
A few minutes later, we stop outside an ornate mahogany door. “Here we are.” Elodie motions with a flourish. “What business do you have with Von Nevus? Shall I accompany you inside to ensure he doesn’t give you trouble? Perhaps you don’t remember, but my mother—”
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “I need to do this on my own.”
“Very well,” she says, but her grip on me reflexively tightens, andI don’t know how I’m supposed to tell if her concern is valid or if she’s just another person trying to manipulate me. She could be even more dangerous than Von Nevus.
I glance between Elodie and the door, mentally reviewing everything I know. Rowenna wouldn’t lead me to Von Nevus if he were dangerous. But she also wouldn’t have tolerated Elodie’s clingy, irritating presence without reason.
Which leaves only one option.
I must play both sides—as I’m sure Rowenna did.
I gratefully pat Elodie’s hand. “Thank you for your concern—and help. I don’t know what I’d do without you. How about I find you at the stone-throwing contests as soon as I’m finished here? It shouldn’t take long.” Then I offer a conspiratorial grin thatcouldbe construed as a promise to tell her everything later.
That does the trick.
Elodie’s painted lips break into a wide smile, and she sets me free, promising to save me a seat near the front of the courts before flouncing away.
As soon as she’s out of sight, I roll my shoulders back and pound my fist against Von Nevus’s door.
“Coming!” calls a low voice within. It’s deeper and huskier than I remember, and for some reason, it makes my skin crawl. What if I made the wrong decision? Maybe I should have listened to Elodie. Or at least planned what to say.
The door creaks open, and Councilor Garitt Von Nevus is there in all of his auburn-haired, blue-robed glory. The velvet fabric perfectly complements his gleaming copper skin, and the way his hair curls around the bottom of the tasseled cap makes him look boyish and innocent. His eyes, though, are wise and wary, calculated in the way of someone far older.
“Little Rowenna,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “To what do I owe this honor?” His words and smile are perfectly pleasant, butthe crawling sensation intensifies as he looks me up and down with appreciation.
I touch the clover on my wrist and raise my chin to meet his brazen stare. “Why did you help me yesterday in the queen’s salon?”
“Are we not even going to pretend to bother with pleasantries?” he asks with wounded amusement.
“I see no reason to.”
His laughter is soft, his smile wistful. “Gods of the mountain, you’re exactly like her.”
I cross my arms and ignore this comment. Garitt Von Nevus couldn’t possibly know if I’mexactly like Rowennabecause he didn’t actually know her; no one on this mountain did. Lately, I’m wondering ifIknew her completely.
“You even get that same little crinkle between your eyebrows when you’re annoyed.” He points excitedly.
My fingers involuntarily drift toward my forehead. How does a councilor of King Soren know something so personal and intimate about my sister?
Garitt’s smile widens.
I drop my hand with a scowl. “I’m not leaving until you answer my questions. Why did you help me? How did you know Rowenna?”
“You’re demanding like her too,” he says with fond exasperation. Then he glances down the hall in either direction and says quietly, “I’ll happily explain—in here.” He waves me into his chambers.
Even though this is precisely what I wanted, my gut twists with unease as I peer into Von Nevus’s rooms. I glance back down the empty corridor, suddenly wishing I cornered him somewhere more public. Or allowed Elodie to accompany me after all.
It’s perfectly fine. Don’t you trust me?Rowenna asks, her voice small and laced with hurt.
In the past, I would have instantly fallen to my knees to begged her forgiveness and offered reassurances, but now I stand there for a longuncomfortable moment, waiting for the fingers of anxiety loosen from around my chest.
Of course I trust my sister. And if Rowenna trusted this boy, I should too.
I proceed into Von Nevus’s rooms with a tight smile. Unlike my geode chamber and the adjoining glass solarium, Von Nevus’s rooms look precisely how I imagined a mountain fortress would: bleak and ominous, with carpet the color of moss and bronze sconces that provide half enough light for the space. It doesn’t help that every window is shuttered, making it feel as claustrophobic as a cave. It’s even drafty like a cave.
I wrap my arms around myself as I turn back to face Von Nevus, who has perched on the arm of a wingback chair.
