“I shall save these slices for Baldbeak,” said Patrick. “Have you finished? Our room should be ready by now.”
A little embarrassed at how quickly I had devoured my food, I pushed my plate away, and the landlord led us to the room, practically tripping up the stairs under the weight of his own fawning. Patrick played the grand lord and barely spoke to him, merely tossing him a small purse when we reached the landing. The landlord bowed and scraped his way back downstairs, leaving us alone. Baldbeak immediately made himself comfortable on a chairback, and had nodded off within seconds.
The room was large and comfortable, lit by subtle glims and a well-laid fire, with an overstuffed armchair on the hearth, and an absolutely enormous feather bed. I blushed to look at it, but schooled my face into an unreadable mask. I wouldn’t let Patrick see any sign of discomfort.
Patrick went to the little mirror above the washbasin and fiddled with his hair.
“When you’ve quite finished preening,” I said. “You’re as bad as Baldbeak.”
“Never underestimate the importance of good grooming,” he said with the ghost of a smile. He looked around the room. “Well. This is modest. But comfortable enough.”
It seemed far more than comfortable to me, but I shrugged.
“A few orders of business, before we start our journey to Spire,” he said. He grabbed my hand, the suddenness of the movement startling me. “The ring.”
“What?” I tried to snatch back my hand, but he held it fast. I felt my cheeks heat. “Let go.”
He loosened his hold a little. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t.” I stared at the hideous piece of jewelry on my hand. I hated it with such ferocity that I imagined I could feel it scorching my skin. “It won’t come off. I’ve tried.”
“I imagine not,” he said. “It is bespelled.”
“Bespelled to stay on my finger, yes.”
“Not just that.”
I stared at him.
“I don’t want you to be alarmed,” he said gently.
“You can’t say that and then expect me not to be alarmed.” I felt cold all over. “What is it?”
“I wondered how he found you so quickly,” he said. “I think Ban Morin, and perhaps Sybil, too, are able to find you with this. Perhaps even watch you, to some degree.”
“Watchme?” I recoiled in horror. The Hair boiled around my shoulders, tangling in on itself. My throat seemed to close, and everything was swirling, snowstorm white.
“Netta. Netta.”
Patrick’s voice penetrated the roaring in my ears. I panted and clapped my hands to my scalp, trying to calm the Hair. He was still speaking in a low, reassuring tone, soothing nonsense, the sorts of things you would say to calm a spooked horse. I feltthe cool pressure of his fingers on my hand again and returned to myself slowly.
“Netta,” he was saying. “I can get it off. I can, I promise. Please. Be still.”
I collapsed into the chair by the fire. “Get it off. Get itoff.”
“I will. Just try to be still.” He knelt before me and held my shoulders firmly. This close, I could see the golden specks in his changing eyes. I swallowed and tried to calm myself.
He took my hand gently and turned it, examining the ring from all angles.
“It’s …” My breath still came raggedly. “It has … teeth.”
He peered at its underside as best he could. “So it does. Fascinating.”
“Oh, I’msoglad you find this interesting.”
“Hold still.”
As he investigated the ring, my hand seemed to jerk in time with my heartbeat, my breath coming raggedly. He seemed to realize how close I was to complete panic again and took both my hands in his, rubbing slow circles on the backs with his thumbs. I couldn’t hear at first over the hissing in my ears, but as it subsided, I heard him whispering, “Easy … easy, now …” I laughed a little at that. My hands were warm and damp within his cool, dry ones, and I could feel the faint press of his own rings against my skin.
