“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
No response.
“Does the work suit you?”
“I like plants.”
“Me too!” said Alora, stretching onto her toes. “I have an entire terrace of them, and I often purchase them for my work, as well. Though not here, I don’t think.” She glanced around the room.
“No. Not without sun. Not without rain.”
“Right.” They worked on in silence awhile more. “Mister Macaw,” she began carefully, glancing from the corner of her eye. “What happens to trespassers?”
She waited awhile, her breath bated, but no answer came. She sighed in defeat.
“Gone.”
“Dead?” Alora paled, spinning toward him.
Mr. Macaw, nonplussed, pressed more paper to the wall. “No. Lost.”
“Lost,” Alora echoed. “What do you mean?”
But he wasn’t given a chance to answer, as a new voice interrupted, “Master Merridon would like to see you, Mister Macaw.”
Alora spun with her brush toward the doorway. The groundskeeper, however, didn’t seem so easily disturbed and finished with the paper. The large man slowly turned beside her before offering a grunt of acknowledgement, laying down what remained in his hands. He ambled toward the door.
Alora noticed all of this from a faraway place. She only had eyes for the person standing there.
It washim. The mysterious man from her first encounter and then again in the forest. Aside from a glimpse of his covered jawline, she could make out nothing beneath his hood. Darkness tumbled in at his back as he faced her.
When the groundskeeper neared, the other man moved aside, letting him pass. Alora offered a feeble smile as Mr. Macaw glanced back toward her. He didn't return it but dipped his head instead. Then he was gone, leaving her all alone with the masked man.
“Is this about the wheelbarrow? Does Master Merridon wish to see me too?”
“No,” he replied, before adding in a mildly threatening manner, “Not yet.”
His voice was low, almost a growl. Alora wondered if he pitched it that way purposefully to intimidate. It certainly worked on her. She needed to be rid of him. “Well then, if you don’t mind, I’m very busy.”
“The groundskeeper assisted you?”
Alora squinted, trying to make out his eyes. Between the cowl and the lantern’s cast shadows, she was unsuccessful. “I didn’t force him.”
“I didn’t insinuate.”
He hadn’t, it was true. Except the way he stood there, hidden and watching, made her feel as if she’d done something wrong. “What is the purpose of this?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you a messenger for Master Merridon?”
She watched his shoulders stiffen. “Of a kind.”
“And you patrol?”
