Page 90 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

When I turned into that wide, adjoining corridor, there was one servant hurrying along the hall ahead of us, moving in the same direction, but she didn’t even turn, so I couldn’t be sure she knew I was there.

I walked quickly past Ruin’s room, making a mental note about its position, but not letting my eyes stray to it, and hurrying as I would anytime I was late, listening to Voski whispering about shadows and spaces, and which would be suitable to conceal—the alcoves with art, but no place to sit, or doors—and which were to be avoided.

“Watch for servants' eyes if you meet one leaving a room. A servant that is busy and on their way to work, will keep their eyes in the direction of the task they’re going to complete. They’ll offer you respect without slowing. A servant that’s secretly searching for you, or watching you to share information later, will look at you, probably scan your clothing, and may even slow to let you move ahead of them.”

“Surely you can’t know if they’re always up to something nefarious if they do that?”

“No, but it’s worth noting. If rumors of your movements are coming back to you, or other clues that someone’s watching, it’s worth considering who might be the source.”

I filed that little nugget away and kept walking.

The hallways here were surprisingly empty, as well. I frowned. “Why do you think there are so few people around tonight?” I asked, but before he could answer, a door ahead and to my right swung open, and a slight, beautiful woman stepped out, gripping her skirts as if she were about to run or scale steps.

But when she caught my movement from the corner of her eye, she turned and her brows rose.

“Bren! You look lovely!”

“Grace!” I gasped, hurrying to catch up to her and curtseying quickly. She rolled eyes and shook her head as she started down the corridor, reaching for my elbow. “What are you doing here?”

Grace looked bemused. “I should be asking you—those are my rooms.”

She was housed in the same corridor as Ruin? Was that normal in a royal guest wing? I supposed it was.

“Oh,” I said with a nervous laugh. “I’d been down at the modiste and this is the shortest route to the banquet hall. I must have passed your rooms before without knowing.”

“Well, now you know,” she said with a smile and squeezed my arm. “Next time, stop and see if I’m in. We could take tea or… something,” she said, her cheeks pinking prettily.

“I’d like that,” I said even as my stomach sank, because if we got Ruin and Hanson pinned down in the next couple of days, we wouldn’t be here long enough.

“Me too.” Then Grace looked over her shoulder, behind me, her eyes scanning Voski. Thank God he had his hood up still.

“Is this your man?” she asked curiously. “You’re usually flanked by the General, so I haven’t met your servants.”

“Oh, I don’t have servants,” I said thoughtlessly, then blinked because who the hell else would I tell her he was? I cleared my throat when her forehead lined. “Vane is one of Donavyn’s helpers. With the dragons. But he was worried about me returning to the Banquet late and alone, so he sent Vane to… escort me.”

“It is a benefit of finally traveling alone, that my father isn’t here to force guards on me in safe places like that,” Grace said with a sweet smile. “Poor Vane—having such duties when usually he’d be working with the dragons. We nobles must seem so boring by comparison. Well, Vane—this is your chance. I am fascinated by your dragons. Please, tell me your stories as we walk. I wish I could join the Lady Brennan on her adventures, but she pretends she has none!”

“Dragons are nowhere for a highborn woman to place her attentions,” Voski muttered, startling me with his rude, sullen tone.

I turned my head and glared at him over my shoulder. “The Lady Grace is a friend, Vane. You don’t need to protect her. I’ll do that.”

His head was down enough that only his chin and jaw showed under the hood, but there were two, tiny pinpoints of light in the shadows around his face and his jaw flexed like he had it clenched.

“It wasn’t her person I protected,” he replied. “But her precious silks—the dragons are very unforgiving on fabric.”

“I am aware,” I said pointedly. “Again, the Lady Grace was being very kind showing an interest in you, Vane. Perhaps you could show some humility and be gracious as she is—”

“Forgive me, Lady Grace,” Voski said, with precisely zero remorse or humility in his tone. “Of course, you should ask whatever questions you wish,” he added flatly.

I would have sworn at him, but poor Grace, her cheeks growing hotter with every step, gave a small, nervous laugh. “My father did warn me that I should be more circumspect with men,” she said. “There is no need for forgiveness, Master Vane. Rest assured, I agree with you that the life—and wardrobe—of a Lady does not lend itself to adventure.”

“Then perhaps you should consider that before dreaming of dragons. We wouldn’t want your precious silks singed.” Voski said flatly.

“Vane!” I hissed, drawing up short and actually turning to face him, shocked that he would be rude. Had he misunderstood who Grace was? I’d specifically asked my brothers to watch out for her with Ruin and—

Voski stopped walking, his chin low and hands clenched to fists at his sides. But before I could figure out how to reprimand him without giving away our cover, Grace patted my arm.

“Don’t worry yourself, Lady Brennan,” she said shakily. “I know my curiosities are unusual for a lady.”