Today though, nothing about this woman draws me in. “Is this the only one?”
Bilson exhales a frustrated breath through his nose. Not sure why. Of all the things I’ve asked him to do over the years, bringing a servant to my room is fairly tame. “The House Master assured me that this is the only Leni on record.”
That can’t be right. This woman’s hips are a touch too wide, and her chest is a bit too large. Then again, maybe I’m misremembering.
“Thank you, Bilson. You may leave us.”
Although Bilson’s jaw pulses, he stalks out the balcony doors.
Now, back to the matter at hand. Everything about this servant feels wrong, but since Bilson went through all this trouble, I might as well question her. “How long have you worked at the castle, Leni?”
Her masked face lifts. “Five years, sire.”
Her voice is different. No accent, for one. And higher, not as husky. Although I can’t see her face, the woman seems to shrink under my stare.It’s not her. Still, I need to be certain, just in case. “Where were you yesterday at noon?”
“In the launderette, sire. It’s where I work.”
It’s not her. Why does that fact disappoint me so much? “Thank you for your time, Leni. I apologize for the confusion. You may return to your duties.”
She bobs a curtsy and hurries back to the warded door leading to the servants’ quarters.
The maid yesterday must’ve given me a false name.
The way she’d clutched her hands in front of her, the very same as?—
I shake away the fanciful notion.
Still…
Why would the woman lie about her name unless she has something to hide?
At dinnertime,Kyff retrieves me the same way he has the last two nights. With my hangover lingering, I don’t have it in me to put up a fight, so I shower and shave and wear clean clothes. On my way into the dining hall, I catch myself staring at the maids lining the wall and hiding in the alcoves. Is one of them the woman I met the day before?
Boris suggests I sit with the folks from Nimbiss instead of in my normal place between Rhainn and Kyffin. And look, there happens to be an empty chair right between my king and my betrothed. Isn’t that convenient?
I drop beside Leeri with a heavy sigh. Gods, I need a drink. As soon as the servant pours the wine, I drain the whole lot.
The servant returns, tipping the bottle back into my empty glass. I peer up at her, trying to imagine what hides beneath that mask. There is no pull from this one. When I look at her, I feel nothing at all.
“Is it customary in Kumulus for men to have their wings out at dinner?” Minister Donnell asks, slipping his spoon into his bowl of soup before bringing it to his flattened lips.
Boris clears his throat, throwing me a pointed look. “No, Minister, it’s not.”
If I want to have my wings out, then I should be allowed to have them out. What does it matter to either of them? It’s not as if I’m molting. Honestly. The things this fool complains about. I drain my second glass of wine before sending my wings away.
“I do hope my brother wasn’t as rude during his visit to Nimbiss,” Boris says with a slight grimace.
Leeri smiles across the table at him, the picture of grace and beauty and mindlessness. “Quite the opposite. He was the perfect gentleman.”
If by “perfect gentleman” she means that I spent the entire time holed up in my room, then yes, I was a perfect gentleman.
Unlike most nights, the air in here is close and still, not so much as a breeze coming from the open balcony doors.
I unbutton my jerkin and the top of my shirt. Leeri darts a look my way before reaching for her own wine glass. I drink more than I eat, and by the time they serve the final course, my head feels full of clouds. Unfortunately, there is no room in my stomach for dessert, so I push the plate of tiramisu aside in favor of more wine.
Boris clamps a hand over my thigh and then relocates my wine glass to the other side of his plate, just out of reach. “I think you’ve had enough, brother.”
I’ll be the one deciding when I’ve had enough, thank you very much. Holding his gaze, I reach for the bottle, bring it to my lips, and take a long, slow sip.