“Trust me.” Lorelai shrugged off her pack and handed it to him. “Nothing is going to stop me from getting what I need. I’ll find the duchess’s bedroom and wait. When she retires for the night, she’ll get the surprise of her life.”
“Be careful.” He dropped her pack and pulled her against his chest. She leaned into him, his heartbeat a steady, comforting sound beneath her ear.
“You too.”
He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “I’ll just be out here, worrying my fool head off while you take all the risk.”
“My kingdom, my battle, my risk.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek before turning back to face the mansion. “And save your worry for the duchess who aligned herself with Irina at the expense of Ravenspire. She’s going to need all the help she can get.”
Lorelai crept along the hedges and ducked behind trees as she made her way to the north wing of the mansion where the marked ostentation of the rest of the mansion was lacking and the windows were few and far between. The servants’ quarters, no doubt. Lorelai glanced around but saw no one outside the mansion. Sasha flew overhead, sweeping the grounds in wide circles.
Do you see anyone I need to worry about? Lorelai asked as she sized up the wall she meant to scale.
Someone near the barn. Attack?
Lorelai craned her neck, but couldn’t see the barn from where she stood. Which meant the person couldn’t see her either. Don’t attack. Once I’m inside, guard Gabril until I call for you.
Squirrels?
Yes, you can hunt some squirrels first, but be quick about it.
Share? Sasha sent an image of dropping a few spare squirrels into Gabril’s lap.
Not squirrels. You can share a rabbit, but not squirrel.
Strange humans.
Lorelai rolled her eyes and then focused on the wall. She took a quick run at it, kicked off with her left foot, and scaled the wall in quick leaps. Holding on to the edge of the closest gable with one hand to avoid sliding off the steep roof, she hooked the fingers of her other hand around the open window and pulled until she could slide into the house.
She landed on a cot with a thin mattress, a thinner gray bedspread, and a lumpy pillow. A plain washbasin, an armoire that had seen better days, and a pair of scuffed work shoes needing a polish lined the wall beside the bed. Definitely servants’ quarters.
Quickly, Lorelai pulled the window back to its former position and then hurried to the door. She peered out into a narrow hall. Empty. Easing out of the room, she closed the door behind her and moved down the corridor toward the main house.
It took several minutes of walking corridors and checking rooms before she found what she was looking for. In a room of polished wood floors and bookcases that stretched floor to ceiling, a maid was sweeping the hearth while behind the grate, a fire crackled.
Moving swiftly, Lorelai crept up behind the maid, pulling off her right-hand glove as she walked.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly when she was directly behind the girl. The maid whirled in surprise, and Lorelai laid her bare hand against the maid’s pale arm. “Zna`uch. Tell me what I want to know.”
The maid’s heart fluttered against the pull of Lorelai’s magic for a second, but then the girl’s eyes grew glassy, and she mumbled, “What do you want to know?”
“Show me where the duchess sleeps, but let no one see us.”
The maid turned obediently toward the door. Lorelai kept her hand on the maid’s arm as they went. The maid led her out of the library, down a staircase with iron railings, and through a hall covered in plush crimson rugs that looked expensive enough to have been woven in Akram. Every room they passed was empty, and a hush permeated the entire house.
“Where is everybody?” Lorelai asked softly as they rounded a corner and entered the west wing.
“Cook is in the kitchen finishing dinner. I couldn’t say where the butler or Mrs. Alban are.” The maid spoke in an eerie singsong tone that reminded Lorelai of the villagers in Nordenberg. Grief pricked her heart and ached in her throat at the thought of the place she’d lost Leo.
He would’ve loved this. Sneaking through a noble’s mansion, bespelling a maid, and waiting in duchess’s bedchambers to scare her into giving up what she knew of Irina—Leo would’ve been in his element. He’d have agonized over a costume, while Lorelai was simply wearing the same thing she’d worn to trek across the mountains. He’d have insisted on code names in case they were caught and questioned. He’d have pretended to be an Akram noble or a broker from Balavata. He would’ve added flair, and he’d have done it perfectly while teasing Lorelai about her inability to ever be anything but her serious, straightforward self.
She’d give anything to hear him tease her again.
The gaping hole inside her that was Leo ached, a sharp pain that Lorelai felt in her bones. Her eyes stung, and the air in the opulent corridor they were walking through felt impossible to breathe.
“Who is Mrs. Alban?” she forced herself to ask through lips that trembled with grief.
“The housekeeper.”
“Where is the rest of the staff?”