***
The morning passed slowly. I kept replaying our conversation over and over, and I lost count of the times I stared off into space, imagining the rough pad of this thumb against my skin when he lifted my gaze to his. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up with a hole in the hand or a third-degree burn.
Shaking the images from my mind, I stretched my arms over my head and glanced at the timepiece sitting on the workbench. I’d been working for hours, developing a plan and making preparations for the job ahead. I’d even cycled through his stack of drawings again, fascinated by their detail and pure artistry.
Now, it was nearly two o’clock. Did I dare accept Bowen’s invitation?
The rational part of me told me to keep working. Taking breaks would only slow the process and keep me from returning home. I eyed the slight knick on my finger caused by one of my distracted fantasies and came to a decision. Breaks were rational too—for safety.
I put the few remaining tools away and wiped down the workbench. The clock inched closer to two, and I picked up my pace, extinguishing the lanterns one by one. Satisfied with the state of the workshop, I left to find Ms. Wilder.
The housekeeper was in the kitchen preparing a tray. She poured milk from a pitcher into a tall glass. Next to the glass was a small plate of cookies. The scent of chocolate chips made my mouth water, and I eyed the plate with amusement. Did Bowen have a sweet tooth? Either way, it was another surprising tidbit that didn’t fit in with his villainous reputation.
“Take this with you to the training room,” Miss Wilder said, handing me the tray. “Go up to the third floor, east wing. All the way at the end of the hall, you’ll find a door leading to a spiral staircase. Hurry, before the cookies cool.” She ushered me from the kitchen with a dismissive wave, and I followed her directions until I found the spiral staircase.
I peered up the shadowy passage. Candles flickered in sconces affixed to the walls, and an iron handrail swirled above the steps. A nervous ache tightened my chest at the narrowed space, but I pushed back the fear and started to climb.
“I thought he said there’d be optimal light,” I grumbled, pausing at the halfway point to rebalance the tray.
At the top, I walked down a short corridor and emerged onto a platform that expanded into a large glass-enclosed dome. Sunshine poured into the room, and I squinted against the abrupt change in lighting until my vision acclimated.
It was incredible. The dome overlooked the entire estate, and I saw the crystal-blue ocean on the horizon. A few of the windows had been vented, allowing fresh air to filter in, and I drew in a deep breath, filling my lungs. It was cold but refreshing.
Around the perimeter of the dome, glass cases displayed various items from Bowen’s collection. Strange artifacts and jeweled boxes sparkled in the bright light. In the center of the space was a large mat where a boy of maybe twelve or thirteen practiced with a saber modified for his size. Bowen observed the boy, issuing a series of increasingly difficult commands. At his feet, watching with lazy, unamused eyes, was a giant dog.
I rested the tray on my hip, impressed as the boy dodged an imaginary adversary. His wheat-blond hair glinted in the sun and fell into his eyes on his next lunge.
In an instant, my throat closed as his features morphed into my brother’s. At least, the image of my brother from before our captivity, when he was flush with health and a ready smile.
The soles of the boy’s shoes squeaked across the mat, jarring me from the memory, and I moved closer, placing the tray onto a wooden bench. I realized who the cookies were for, and a smile crested my lips.
This place was full of surprises.
Bowen noticed my presence and gestured me forward. The boy lowered the end of his saber and bowed. The dog upstaged them both, jumping to his feet, his tail wagging in frantic excitement. He thrust his snout into my leg, making me shift my weight to keep from falling over. Bowen steadied my elbow.
“Sit, Brutus.”
The dog didn’t listen and wagged his tail harder.
Bowen sighed. “This is Brutus. I found him wandering the grounds a while back and took him in. He’s an evil thing and extremely dangerous.”
Brutus licked the back of my hand when I bent to stroke the fur behind his ear.
“See? He’s practically a monster.” He indicated the boy. “And this is Jacob Carver. He’s the stable boy. I let him train up here after he completes his duties. He also has a fascination with weapons.” Bowen winked. “But he doesn’t care about the craftsmanship. He’s only interested in fighting. Jacob, meet Liana Archer.”
Jacob grinned and bowed for a second time. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Archer.”
Nodding, I offered him a timid smile, still recovering from seeing the likeness of my brother. Jacob patted his thighs, trying to call Brutus back to the mat. The dog looked up at me with adoring eyes and sat down at my feet.
I stifled a smile. I didn’t expect to find a child, let alone a dog, inside Bowen’s house. Nothing seemed to match Bowen’s reputation. Not this room in the sky, not the young boy with the friendly grin, nor the harmless dog resting his head against my toes. Yet I knew something was lurking beneath the surface. A darkness he couldn’t escape. A pain he’d hinted at earlier, in the workshop.
It was strange to see so much of myself reflected back at me. My scars may not be on the outside for everyone to see, but they were there.
I lifted my foot from underneath Brutus’s snout and stepped onto the mat, reaching for Jacob’s saber. “Do you mind?”
Jacob shook his head, allowing me to adjust his grip around the hilt.
I placed both hands on his shoulders, moving him into place. “You have an excellent technique, but when you lunge, place your center of gravity here.”
