And apparently, fighting won out, because the next thing I knew, I was slamming my left fist into his face. It felt like I broke some of my fingers when they hit the pure steel of his jaw.
His head snapped away with the blow, then his face shot back toward me, fire burning in his eyes. Fast as lightning, he grabbed both my wrists, then spun me around, pinning my arms down to my waist. Once again, I felt myself pressed against him—iron muscles under an exquisitely soft material.
He leaned down, his mouth near my ear. “You’re unusually strong.” His deep voice slid through my bones. “Interesting. Very interesting.”
“What’s interesting about that? What do you want with me?”
“You will find out soon enough.”
He dropped his grip on me, and I caught my breath again as he moved away. I turned to see him stalking out the door. Dread raked its claws through my heart.
7
Lila
Twenty minutes later, I stood in a hall with Zahra by my side. Saxophones and trumpets blared through the walls, the sounds of people with the good fortune to enjoy the night.
We were outside Ernald’s office, waiting to face the real music.
Zahra sniffled, wiping a tear from her cheek, which made me feel horribly guilty. I’d got her mixed up in this.
Candlelight danced over the cramped hall, where the red paint had faded and chipped over the years. A faint yellow and black slogan on the wall across from us read Bibliotek is the Bee’s Knees!
Wasn’t feeling that at all right now, to be honest. What I felt, in addition to the guilt, was more an oppressive sense of dread, and also a few splinters piercing the soles of my bare feet.
It seemed something unfortunate had happened after Count Saklas’s visit. While I sat in that boudoir, pouring myself another glass of champagne and regretting everything about the evening, the count went to see my boss.
“It’ll be fine, Zahra,” I said.
“It most certainly will not be fine,” she hissed. “Ernald summoned me, and asked about my meeting with the count. He wanted to know exactly what happened. And what could I tell him? Because I wasn’t bloody there.”
“A lie?” I offered.
She shook her head. “I tried. But Ernald figured it out pretty fast, because apparently the count told him about a fight that I didn’t know about at all. Did you hit him, Lila? Did you hit the bloody count? The ruler of Albia? That is not what I told you to do.”
I bit my lip. “I panicked. He’s scary.”
“Do you know how much trouble we could be in?”
“I’m not worried about trouble with Ernald. I’m worried about the count. He sounded like he was coming back for me for some reason.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It was hard to think clearly. It was like he got into my head. I think he could control my thoughts. He grabbed me around the throat, and I just freaked out. I panicked.”
She blew out a long breath. “Okay. Fine. Well, hopefully Ernald will be reasonable.”
“This is fine. I just need to go into permanent hiding, from the count and the gangs. I can live on one of those boats in the canals, take it up north maybe. Get a cat for company.”
“You’re babbling.”
The door to Ernald’s office swung open, and I found myself looking not at Ernald, but at the rosy complexion and blond hair of Finn. Besides Zahra, one of my closest friends.
It wasn’t until his eyes swept up and down my body that I remembered I was still in a sheer lace robe.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Heya, Finn.”
You’d think that after all the time we spent in here, he’d be used to the sight of breasts, but his blue eyes were wide as saucers. He pushed the door wider. “Ernald wants to speak to you. Both of you.”
Unlike everything else in the Bibliotek, there was no faded paint in Ernald’s office. It was all dark wood and stacks of books, with a real electric light that powered a lamp on his paper-strewn desk.
No office window for Ernald. He was a man who liked to keep his back to the wall at all times. So instead of glass, a panorama had been painted on the wall behind him—a castle on a hill.
Ernald himself leaned back in his chair, puffing a cigar. He was always dressed to kill, his white button-down shirt crisp and striking against his dark skin. In his three-piece suit, he looked more like a banker than an ordinary denizen of East Dovren.
Two chairs stood empty before his desk, and Zahra and I each sat in one. The heavy silence in the room was broken only by the sound of the chair creaking as I planted my mostly-bare bum in it.
Finn stood off to the side, eyes focused determinedly away from my lace camisole. He stared at a blank space on the wall, his jaw working.
Ernald was doing his thing where he let the silence stretch on forever while everyone pissed themselves, so he completely had the upper hand by the time the actual conversation started. I’d been through this enough times that it no longer unnerved me.
“Ernald,” I began. “I can explain. The Rough Boys wanted to mutilate me—
He held up a finger, and I fell silent. He didn’t want me to deprive him of the awkward silence.
He managed to lean even farther back in his chair, and blew out a ring of smoke. “Count Saklas came to see me. Seems the two of you ladies thought it would be a laugh to switch for the night.”
“Not a laugh,” I started. “The Rough Boys—“
“Not interested in excuses,” He said, suddenly leaning forward. “Don’t give a toss what your reasons were. If he’d decided to close us down for the many laws we’ve been breaking, we’d dance our last dance at the deadly nevergreen.”
A chill rushed over my skin. Just like some cultures had dozens of words for snow, Albians had dozens of terms for hanging. Climbing the tree, ladder to hell, twitching over the abyss, the last dance, and the deadly nevergreen. We were a cheerful sort that way.
“But he’s not shutting us down,” I pointed out. His phrasing had told me that much.
Ernald cocked his head. “Look, at the end of the day, it’s my job to make money, isn’t it? And Count Saklas has made me a very good offer. Very good indeed.” He steepled his fingers, the hint of a smile now forming on his lips. “Not just me, Lila. He’s made you a good offer.”
I stared at him. “Offer for what?”
“He wants you to be his …” He cleared his throat, then looked down at the paper before him. “His amanuensis.”
I looked between Finn and Zahra, wondering if anyone was going to fill me in on what the fuck an amanuensis was, but they looked as perplexed as I was.
“Okay. What’s that?” I asked.
“Courtesan, I should imagine,” said Ernald. “Not sure why he wanted you, but maybe he likes being punched. Not my place to judge.”
I stared at him. “Sorry, what?”
Ernald shrugged. “Some men like a bit of fight. Makes it more exciting.”
I drummed my fingers on the armrests. “But he didn’t seem interested in me in that way. I mean, he left without anything happening. Also, at the risk of sounding like a downer, he’s somewhat of a murderer. There are bodies hanging outside his palace.”