“Through Baldbeak,” I said slowly.
“Yes, I have an affinity for ravens. They make wonderful … gatherers of information.”
“Spies,” I said flatly.
“If you prefer. I was curious. That particular raven decided to stay on with you long term. Quite his own decision, I assure you.”
So it was my stupid, girlish dreaming, my head stuffed with stories, that had set all this in motion. If I hadn’t stitched thatlittle map and sent it winging off to Plague-knew-where, wishing for rescue from my stifled, stunted little life, no one would ever have found us, and none of this would have happened. And why had I done it? Because, like a fool, I had hoped for a prince to rescue me from my tower. Instead, I’d had to clamber down myself. And anything further from my dreams of a fair and square-jawed knight than Patrick Foley would be hard to imagine, slight and dark as he was, and standing barely as tall as I in stocking feet.
“You were watching me through Baldbeak? From the very beginning, after you found my map?”
I am sorry, said Baldbeak, confirming my worst fear.
“You were my friend,” I whispered to him. “My one friend.”
The room was threatening to close in on me again.
“And what of the Temple?” I said hoarsely. “Why was itTemple guardsthat attacked the tower? In all your machinations, have you come across that information?”
“I did not know that for certain until I saw them pursuing you in Quell,” he said. “I do not know what the Temple wanted with the book, or your mother. But I intend to find out. We can find out together.”
It was all too much.
“I’m going to be sick,” I said with great dignity, and then, without further ceremony, I was. Patrick did me the kindness of turning away while I heaved up what little I had eaten onto the library carpet. Baldbeak fluttered about me, but I shook my head and shooed him away.
“I have to get back to the party,” I gasped when I was calm enough.
“Ah yes … and to your betrothed.”
“Well, what would you suggest I do?” I said sharply.
“Why, come with me, of course. Surely you see now that I am a better prospect than Milady.”
I snorted.
“You are so fond of that noise,” he said.
I peered over his shoulder at the door. “I have been gone far too long. They will miss me. You don’t know what they will do to me if I displease them.”
“Wait a moment,” said Patrick with more urgency. “Just a moment. Just hear what I have to say, and then, if you choose, you can go.”
Baldbeak chattered his beak from where he perched on Patrick’s shoulder. He seemed completely comfortable with Patrick, as if the man were an old friend. Which I supposed he was.
“I can take you to Spire,” Patrick said softly.
I froze. “How do you know I want to go to Spire?”
“I told you, I am in the business of secrets.” He looked at my set face. “I understand your … reservations. But you need to know that Ban Morin is a dangerous man. Milady is bad, yes, but he is worse. And once you are on his lands, in his house … in his bed …”
I shuddered.
“… it will be much harder for me to reach you.”
I started towards the door. He reached out and held my upper arm with a cool, firm touch, stopping me. Baldbeak, still on his shoulder, rattled his feathers a little.
“I am merely offering you a choice,” he said. “Safe passage to Spire. And then, after we have found the book, the company of others like you. Other mages who do not wish to be married off, pledged to the Temple, or otherwise used. Mieka can vouch for them. She is … involved with their welfare, also, as I am.”
I bit my lip. His expression was serious—but those unsettling hazel eyes with their changing colors did not inspire confidence. “I’ll think about it,” I said.
