He shook off the footman and stepped fully into the room. The servant bowed, backed into the hallway, and closed the door behind him. We all sat, and I recounted my abduction, my introduction to Otokar and the empress, and her generous offer to house and protect us.
Marlis listened to everything, and her stoic expression never wavered. Gideon, however, sighed, slumped in his chair, and scrubbed his palm against the bristles on his jaw. His head dropped back, and his gaze seemed to settle on something distant, beyond the confines of this room. “It’s better for you,” he said. “Safer. I relied too much on our anonymity and left you in a vulnerable position. We’re lucky it was the empress and not someone more...malevolent who found you. I’ve let you down, Evie.”
I leaned forward and took his hand, rubbing my fingers over the callouses in his palm. “It’s not your fault,” I said. His head snapped up and his gray eyes met mine. “I exposed myself every time I tried to use my powers. You respected me enough to let me take that risk.”
“As if that were my choice. As if I could ever tell you what to do.”
“That hasn’t stopped you from trying.”
The set of his jaw hardened, and a muscle twitched under his eye. “That was before. When you trusted me.”
I squeezed his hand, let go, and stood. “There’s no one in this castle, or the whole of Bonhemm, that I trust more than the two of you.” I felt their stares following me as I crossed the apartment and opened a door leading to a small, dark bedroom. “This will be your room, Gideon. Marlis will take the one adjoining mine.”
Gideon rolled to his feet and straightened his coat, the same suede jacket he’d managed to hang onto since our hasty escape from Fallstaff, months before. His shirt collar had wilted, and bits of straw clung to his waistcoat, yet he maintained an air of respectability and poise. “The empress has left new clothes for you.” I gestured into the darkness of his room. “I’m afraid it might be more formal than what you’re used to.”
His lips thinned. “Formal?”
“She expects you to leave the stables and serve as my personal guard.”
“What about me?” Marlis asked.
I hesitated to reply. For over a month, the three of us had lived as equals—no ranks, no title, no courtly conventions. The empress, however, held a conflicting opinion, and I was unprepared to defy her. Not yet. I’d barely recovered from the shock of finding myself dressed in fine clothes and stuffed in a luxurious apartment in the heart of Prigha Castle. “The empress wants you to be my lady-in-waiting.”
Perhaps I’d expected disappointment or outrage, but instead, Marlis bobbed her head. “That means I can be myself while the two of you play at nobility, right?”
“I think it means you might occasionally have to help me dress or arrange my hair, but mostly you’ll be my official companion.” I went to her and knelt at her side. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me now. We can still pack up and leave the city tonight.”
She sniffed and shook her head. “Are you asking me if I’d rather go back to living on the road, when I could stay here”—she waved in a gesture that encompassed all the fineries of the sitting room and beyond—“in comfort and luxury? Evie, why would I ever say no?”
I squeezed her shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“How about food? Will there be plenty to eat?”
“Yes, of course. In fact, I’ve already ordered supper.”
“And all I have to do is pin up your hair and fasten the occasional button for you?”
“Something like that.”
Her attention shifted to her brother, and a smile played on her lips. “What do you think, Gideon? Should we stay?”
He leaned against the doorway of his new bedroom and studied his fingernails as though he’d never seen anything more interesting than his own cuticles. “I say it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s Evie’s decision. She may be no safer here than on the streets, but it might be nice to lie in a real bed without worrying that the rats will steal the boots off my feet while I sleep.”
I chuckled at the image, but my laughter quickly faded. “We’ll stay, then, for now. Tomorrow I’ll see if there’s any way Tereza can help us find the Fantazikes. Meanwhile, everyone keep their eyes and ears open. I’ve learned to never accept roses without expecting to get pricked by a thorn.”
Gideon disappeared into his room to freshen up while I dismissed Tereza’s maid in preference of Marlis’s easier companionship. As she pinned the last lock of my hair into place, a footman knocked at our apartment door, announcing the arrival of our supper.
The three of us dined at a small table the empress’s staff had set for us with plain china and candles. We said little to each other, content to stuff ourselves on fish, greens, bread, and wine until our stomachs strained and not a single crumb remained. Safe, warm, and truly full for the first time in weeks, we relaxed and drowsed until we all nearly fell asleep in our seats.
As the hour grew late, Marlis shook off her stupor. She rose and began clearing the table, returning dishes to the covered trays the footman had left for us. I clasped her wrist as she reached for my plate. “Leave it. Someone will come to collect these. Tonight, you rest.” I narrowed my eyes at Gideon. “We all rest. Who knows how long this will last. We could be on the run again tomorrow.”
He discarded his napkin on the table and stood. “Rest or no, I mean to take my new job seriously.”
I nodded and stood beside him, returning his stare. “Of course you will.”
Taking Marlis by her elbow, I led her toward her room, attached to my own sleeping chamber. Before I crossed the threshold, I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Good night, Gideon.”
He briefly bent in a casual bow. “Good night, Lady Thunder.”
***
The next morning, I awoke to early-morning sunlight glowing through sheer hangings around my bed. Careful not to wake Marlis, I dressed in my trousers and shirt from the day before—laundered and mended—and laced up my boots. After scribbling a quick missive, I tiptoed through the sitting room and reached for the handle of the hallway door.
Someone cleared his throat behind me.
“Good morning, Gideon,” I said, turning to face him. He wore an elegant pair of dark trousers, waistcoat, and long jacket in corded velveteen—nothing like his usual stable attire. The finery suited him. More than suited him. The faintest of butterfly wings fluttered in my belly, responding to his appeal.
“Where are you going so early in the morning?” he asked.
I flapped my letter at him. “To send a note to the church. I wanted to let Sister Maria know where to find me in case she gets word of the Fantazikes’ location.”
“You’re dressed as though you’re going to work.”
“And you’re dressed as if you’re going to tea.”
He huffed and waved his hand, eschewing my comment. “Where are you going, really?”
I glanced at the door, studying its nicks and scratches. “If I couldn’t find a messenger, I was going to take this note to the church myself. I thought it would be best if I tried to fit in with the crowd.”
