I rubbed at my temples, but really, what was there to consider? Asking Amryssa about the dagger had gotten me nowhere, and my questions to the blade itself had gone unanswered. I almost suspected that whatever bit of Zephyrine lived inside had forgotten its divinity. Or else never understood it in the first place. And now I was running out of both time and options.
I sighed. “Okay, fine. But if we end up dead, I’m going to be incredibly annoyed with you.”
“You’re already incredibly annoyed with me.”
I huffed. “Yes, but only because—” When I snapped my teeth together, he arched a brow. His smile turned knowing, as if I’d spoken out loud.
I dropped my eyes. “I hate you,” I finished, with no vitriol whatsoever.
“Noted,” he purred.
I cleared my throat. “So when are we embarking on this suicide mission?” This, at least, made for a safer conversational topic than whatever the hell that last thing had been.
“How about tonight? After everyone’s asleep?”
“Tonight,” I said. “Great. Who needs to see another sunrise, anyway?”
I had no idea how long lock-picking was supposed to take, but I was fairly sure it wasn’t ten seconds flat. Which was why I stared at Kyven in horrified wonder when he pushed on the Lady Marche’s door and it actuallyopened.
He’d made it look so easy.
He offered the hairpin I’d handed over, now broken into halves. “Impressed?”
“Yes.” I pocketed the makeshift lockpicks. “Entirely against my will, but yes.”
He grinned, and I glanced around. The sconces in this wing stayed unlit at night, and moonlight threw odd geometries onto the carpet, courtesy of the hallway’s grimy windows.
“We ought to shut ourselves in,” Kyven said. “In case someone passes by.”
I nodded. The chances of a visitor here were slim, but we would take every precaution. I grabbed his hand and tugged him into the Lady’s room.
And abruptly flung his fingers away when they curled around mine.
Kyven’s disembodied chuckle floated from the darkness, followed by the creak of the door and the scrape of a match. Brightness flared as he lit a candle he’d brought in his pocket.
I spun a slow circle. The wavering light revealed a room that had once been the height of luxury—a four-poster bed stood against one wall, the mattress so high I would’ve needed a stepstool to climb atop. In the corner, a paneled screen served as a rack for a once-lavish dress. A mirrored vanity occupied another wall, cosmetics pots and brushes laid out on top.
I squinted. Dust caked the vanity, but streaks marred its surface, as if someone had fondled the Lady’s things. Recently.
“Someone’s been in here,” I said, my breath hitching.
Suddenly, a sick possibility occurred to me, and I did another sweep of the room. But...no Althea. Not even anything of discernible value, like Vick had speculated. Just half-rotted, moth-eaten luxuries, the remnants of a life cut short.
Kyven went to the vanity and ran a finger through the dust. “The seneschal must visit sometimes.”
My gut squeezed.Thatlittle tidbit only fueled my impatience to get in and get out. If Olivian found us in here...
Seven hells. I’d rather be caught outside in a nightmare.
“Then let’s make this quick.” I hurried to the standing screen and peeked behind, then patted down the hanging dress for hidden pockets. Kyven went to work, too, rifling through the vanity’s drawers.
The minutes stretched like hours. My stomach cramped with urgency, yet as I flipped up an area rug and hunted through the dusty nether regions of a chaise longue, a dark hole opened inside my chest.
Useless. This was all useless. The next nightmare would come and I’d be no closer to freeing Zephyrine, and?—
“Lioness.”
I glanced up to find Kyven standing by the door, one ear cocked.
