With a silent hope I'm not bringing trouble on myself, I open it. The smell of old paper grows stronger. I flip a few pages, then hear footsteps thumping down the hall. Hugging the book to me, I lunge to a nearby couch and hunker behind it.
The hinges of the door squeak as it opens. A slight pause, then the footsteps enter the room. I quiet my breathing. Oh, how Cynthia was right! I'll be punished for this. The extra space the house provides can't hide me if another comes in the same room as me. I shouldn't have given in to my desires on the word of a servant. Warlocks have the final say, always.
My legs burn from keeping huddled. It's been too long since I've used my muscles for such a purpose. It's silent for several minutes. The pang in my legs increases to a stab. If I continue like this, I'll give myself away. I peek my head up. The Envadi!
I duck my head down and hold my breathe. He's staring at a nearby bookshelf. Just staring. My lungs start to burn from lack of oxygen. I resume breathing, but it's too loud. I hold it again.
My muscles throb. Gradually, I lower myself to the ground. My dress rustles. I bite my lower lip. The footsteps move closer. He's at the bookshelf just a few steps from me. Of all the shelves in this room, why did he have to pick that one? If he turns his head he'll see me. I close my eyes.
My hands tighten around the book. The book. I shouldn't even have this. How much worse will my punishment be if I'm caught with it? Can I shove it under the couch? Maybe, but it might make noise and catch his attention. Blast.
After a few moments, the footsteps return, but this time leading away from me. I let out my breath as quietly as I can. The door squeaks open and closes. Did he leave?
I wait another few moments in silence. I hear nothing. Did he really leave then? I peek around the room again. Empty. I sigh and rub my sore legs with my free hand. Once they feel a bit better, I grab the back of the couch and hoist myself up. My hands are shaking.
Wasting no time, I head for the door until I realize the book is still in my hands. Do I take it with or put it away? It almost got me caught. Almost brought punishment. But it didn't and I want to know what it says. The brief glimpse I got seemed different than the Woman's Canon. More than ever, I want something new. Can I compound the rule I've already broken by taking it with?
Cynthia says I'm reckless. Reckless I'll be. Book in hand, I move to the door. I twist the handle and ease it open a crack. No one appears to be in the hall. I ease it open further and stick my head out so I can see deeper into the passage. Empty.
I slip from the room and close the door until the latch gives a faint click. I head for my own room. In my panic, it takes me a moment to orient myself as to where I am and where I need to go. Remembering the lay of the land outside the book room window, I head toward the direction my room should lie in. Things soon look familiar.
I finish climbing to my room. Once there, I do another thing I have never before attempted. I lock my door. Just to be safe, I curl up in my bed so I can hide the book under my pillow if need be and claim I was resting.
I open the book again and let its scent fill me. The words quickly consume me. It's nothing like the Woman's Canon. Almost being caught was worth it. As long as it doesn't bring trouble and punishments my way, I think I'm going to like it.
Chapter Ten
Besides the terrifying book incident, the only time I've seen the Envadi is at dinner. I've never tried to contact him in any way, nor has he tried to contact me. Until now.
I stare at the note he sent, not sure if the contact brings good or bad news. Mother's coming to dinner. Tonight.
The servant girl finishes tugging my hair into a knot and reaches for a paint pot.
I steel my resolve. “Not tonight. That will be all.”
“But you have to,” Cynthia says from the window seat.
“Not tonight.” I turn to the servant. “You're dismissed.”
“Thank you.” The servant departs.
“I'll never get used to having someone else do so much for me,” I say.
“Oh good.” Cynthia stands and walks over to me. “When you said that, I thought you meant you were going to dinner without your face paint. It's odd having them do everything all the time.”
“It is odd, but I didn't mean that I intended to do my own face paint. I'll go to dinner without.”
Her eyes widen. “You mustn't. The Woman's Canon—”
“It doesn't demand that we wear face paint, only that we look our best.” Besides, the book I stole has a girl in it that only mentions face paint once and how she never wears it. If I had known it was a choice sooner, I would have done the same.
“Mother always said we must wear face paint when we turned twelve.”
I give her my full attention. “You said you weren't going to take mother's place.”
“I'm just worried for you.”
I stand and hand her the note. “Don't worry. Mother will be here to scold me herself.”
“She's coming? Then you really must put some on.”