“I won that in a bet.”
I gasp and lurch back toward the sudden sound. A smiling man in his mid-thirties is looking up at the trophy animal. There’s an air of mischief inlaid in his edged face. His eyes are sharp, sodark they’re almost black, and his brown hair is cut short and a little uneven. He shouldn’t be handsome, but somehow he is.
“The earl who lost it tried to steal it back, but I’m very good at hiding things.”
His playful gaze lands on mine, and I can only hope that he’s not planning on hiding my dead body next.
“I’m sorry. I was just going.” I’m fumbling toward the door when his unbothered voice reaches me again.
“No need to rush off. I know that you’re lost.”
I pivot to look back at him. “That’s really nice of you, but I’ll head out this way. I remember where the party is.” Even when faced with the possibility of murder, I’m still inclined to be polite.
He holds up a hand like he’s trying to calm me down. “You misunderstand. I know that you’relostlost. Here... in time.”
My heart stops mid-beat. My throat goes dry. “Have we met before?”
“Have you and I met?” he asks. “No. Have I met the person whose body you’re now inhabiting? Yes, I have.”
Well, fuck.
He takes in my blank, stunned stare and gestures to the two chairs near the fireplace. “Let’s have a drink.”
“Okay,” I answer unsteadily. Not because I want a drink, per se, but because I have the sneaking suspicion that in a few seconds, I’m really going to need one.
Chapter Four
“How do you know that I’m not the real Catherine?”
The man looks at me with grave intensity. “Because I was the one who summoned you here.” I take an uneven breath, but he quickly chuckles, his mouth curving warmly. “I speak in jest. People never perceive me as teasing, but I am actually a very humorous person.”
He walks closer, and his charcoal gray clothes give the impression that they were expensive once but aren’t anymore. He has heavy bags under his eyes, and patchy facial hair covers his neck and cheeks. He might be hungover. Or functionally tipsy.
“So, you didn’t summon me?” I ask.
He shakes his head as he then makes his way to an open cupboard. “I did not. To tell you the truth, I have no idea what brought you here.” He begins rifling through a row of bottles, and I give another quick glance around the room. There’s a loud squawking sound, and I notice an angry-looking raven caged in the corner.
“How did you know I’m not the real Catherine, then?”
He turns back around, holding two wooden cannisters. “I have very good intuition. Wine or ale?”
“Wine,” I answer. He nods and puts one of the cannisters back on the shelf, grabbing two silver cups afterward. I take a step toward him. “If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”
He kicks the cupboard shut behind him as he turns to face me. “My apologies. I don’t often have guests anymore. I’m Matthias. Personal astrologer to the king.”
“An astrologer?”
He moves toward a small rectangular table in the center of the room. “I’m also a skilled weaver. I come from a weaving family. I would have stayed with them, but my father said I scared the customers. Ha! Can you imagine?”
I do everything I can to keep my face neutral. “No, I can’t imagine that at all.” He sets the cups down and begins pouring the wine. “So, when you say you’re an astrologer, would that be a code word for something else?”
“Code?” he asks, glancing over at me in question.
“Like, are you a sorcerer or something?”
He slams the wine cannister down onto the table, and I flinch against its bellowing echo.
“Sorcery is a crime punishable by death.” His eyes are deadly serious until they shift back to untroubled nonchalance. “No, I’m merely a man who hears things and sees things from a mist in my head.” He sits down, taking a sip from his cup and gesturing for me to join him. I carefully approach and take my place across from him.
