“Of course, my lady.”
As Maris turned to give instructions to various other maids, Nim made a circuit through the room, which was much more to her tastes than the other had been. She wasn’t certain that was why Warrick had moved her. Her fingers trailed over the doors of a fine wardrobe with delicate leaves carved over its trim and the pulls shaped into roses. Beside it hung still-life paintings with floral themes and vining leaves, pleasant and peaceful enough, but she still missed the little painting of the sleeping dog she’d had at Hearst. She wondered if she might be allowed to bring it then smiled at the idea of such a poorly done work on castle walls. Maybe she would commission a piece, something garish and improper, from Margery’s cousin.
Several chairs were scattered in the space, with two low tables nearby and a variety of trunks near the far wall. Her fingers trailed over a new set of brushes, fine bone inlaid with jewels. Brushes were such a personal thing, and it seemed strange that Maris would have replaced them… Stranger still that her room had been changed at all. She glanced over her shoulder, but the maid was still putting the others to task.
A wide fireplace was centered on the largest wall, and beyond one door, Nim found a spacious bedchamber and a private bath. She sighed, leaning against the doorway as her eyes again found the writing desk. Nim’s previous life had been filled with correspondence, research made in the undertakings set to her by the Trust.
She’d no idea who she might write without that need. Margery would likely throttle her for sending a letter instead of coming in person once she heard what had transpired. Warrick had sent a message to her friend Margery and to Hearst Manor for Alice and Allister, to let them know that she was safe. They had been warned to use discretion, surely, but all had known that Nim had been involved with the Trust.
They also knew that the seneschal of Inara had been involved as well. She found herself standing before the desk, unaware that she’d crossed the space, her fingers trailing across strangely familiar parchment.
“Shall I lay out your nightclothes, my lady? I’m certain today has been taxing enough that once you’re finished with dinner…”
Nim nodded absently, managing to give the maid a smile before returning to her senses. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m afraid I’m overwrought. It is a rather big change for me.”
“Of course, my lady. Dinner is on its way up, and then I’ll leave you to your peace. You may call if you need me, no matter the time.”
“I’m grateful,” Nim told her, and she meant it. She felt incredibly alone in the big, empty room, though she was still within reach of the people she loved. She was grateful, too, that she’d not been forced to leave Inara behind. And no matter what else, no matter how her mind kept returning to him, Calum was no longer her concern. He had been locked in a dungeon deep beneath the castle, safely bound by contract, magic, and iron bars.
Never mind that the king wanted her head. Calum could not touch her.
It didn’t change her fate, though. It only untied her from him, not from the bargain her father had made and their ties to the magic of the Trust.
The people of Inara had long gambled at winning a boon with bargains and magic, but no one ever truly won. It was a compulsion to many. The desperate who played went further and further into debt until they could no longer see their way out. Nim’s own bargain had won her no favor because hers had not been a contract she’d made herself.
Her father had bound her within his own terms, and in the end, his trade had only made her need to be near the thing her father had feared. It had caused her to be drawn to magic and those who could wield it, the very danger he’d wanted so much to subvert. But Nim could do nothing about what had happened.
All that was left for her was to figure out how to defeat the terms and their hold on her, to understand the dangerous secrets kept by the Trust. Because until she was free of the bargain her father had made, she would never be free at all.
By the time darkness fell, Nim had sent messages to her friends, saying that she would be calling on them in the following days, picked at her dinner, changed into a clean shift, and settled into a large and excessively pillowed bed. Heavy curtains draped around her, making it too dark and too quiet. It was not long before she grew restless and rose to pace the room between the strips of moonlight that cut across her floor. The door to the room where Maris slept was closed with no light visible through the frame. Sounds did not reach her from the corridor outside or through the windows to the courtyard below. It did not keep her from being unsettled.
So many times, she had felt magic calling to her, wanting to draw her to it in a terrifying, venomous way. It was not what she felt with Warrick. She was drawn to him in a way that was far less deniable, and although not vicious, she certainly could not say it was innocuous. It was bound to get her into trouble, even without the king’s warning.
She stared at the silvery moon through the delicate trim over arched windows and could not help but think of Warrick. He was under the same moonlight, in the same castle, but she could no longer slip into his rooms. He had left a hidden passageway open to her before, and she had found any manner of reasons to use it. But that had been then.
Something ticked in her chest at the thought, a small trip in her pulse, and suddenly, her feet had resumed their pacing but had gained a purpose. Warrick had not moved her for no reason, surely. He had wanted her in an entirely different suite, one illuminated by moonlight on the same side of the castle as his own. She lit a lantern from the tinderbox with trembling hands then held it high as she trailed the exterior walls of her room, the fingertips of her free hand running over the surface of each wall. It was a large room, but only so many places could hold such a secret, and near the corner opposite the fireplace, Nim discovered a familiar sort of trim carved only similarly to the others. When she slid her finger across it, the wood swung out like a wing to reveal a split in the wall.
A hidden door. She cursed, but it was the pleasant, surprised sort, twisted by her smile, and she opened the panel to dash inside without so much as donning a robe.
Chapter 4
Nim’s lantern threw light through the narrow corridor as her feet sped over the smooth stone. A tingle of unease skittered down her spine like a phantom sensation of fingers trailing her skin, but when she turned, she found nothing but the shadows that danced in her firelight. She did not have her bearings well enough to feel certain the direction to Warrick’s rooms, but the passage didn’t branch off more than a few times, and she could feel the pull of his magic, soft and warm, somewhere deep inside her.
When she came to a sharp turn the corridor met with another, far more familiar, and the unease melted away. It was the passageway she’d used to gain access to his rooms, hidden by magic that Nim could sense, giving her access while any other citizen of Inara would walk right past. From where she stood, one direction would lead her out into the dark night and the center of Inara. The other led to him.
She could not help the smile that tugged at her lips as she found the paneled door leading into his rooms. She set her lantern in the alcove beside his, her flame real and true, his a flame bought by magic, and opened the door to his study.
Warrick lounged in the wide, plush chair she’d sat in countless times, his wolfish grin gone catlike with self-satisfaction. His desk was littered with correspondence cast in a silvery glow by the moonlight through the windows. He leaned forward. “It took you longer than I thought it would.”