“Those are scenarios I would not put into your head before bedtime.”
Alora swallowed. “So bad?”
“Either you run very, very far and very fast,” he said, steadfast as ever. “Or you finish what you began.”
What in the godforsaken earth?
Her first breath drew shaky, but her next steadied her.One week,she thought.One week, and after that we’ll see what can be done about these bludgeoning Urchins.Because she did love Enver. She adored the people who said good morning to strangers and singing while atop her terrace. She loved the flowers and shops and variety of enchantments. But this contract. Thiscontract.
“I’ve already run away once. I won’t do it again. Goodnight.” Then she closed the door and imagined three locks after it.
Let William try anything now.
***
She’d not slept well.
Alora yawned though the hour crept toward noon only to lose it partway. A letter slipped through the slot. She walked toward it slowly as the envelope hinted at what it was—the gold lettering, the gold embossing at the corners.
She bent and lifted it, her heart somewhere near her toes.
Miss Alora Pennigrim
126 Eldergrove Avenue
Enver
She slipped her finger inside, unfolded it, and read it quick. Then she read it again.
She swallowed the distinct taste of bile. Fear squeezed her like a snake. She’d been all bravery and bravado last night, but now the thought of running very, very far and very fast didn’t sound so bad an idea. Of course, it didn’t help that she’d nearly scorched her entire home with nightmarish imaginings. She’d woken to black marks charred onto her walls in the distinct shape of flames; William had haunted her, managing past her locks and into her dreams, and she loathed him for it.
And now she must meet with Master Merridon. Master Merridon, who would surely have something to say over how she’d only a week remaining and all she’d managed was wallpaper. Well, if his Urchins and his performers would only leave her and Enver be, she might have been done days ago. As it were—
“Mrs. Flops! Forage on the terrace today. I’ve an appointment with my early demise which can’t be missed.”
Then she ran and leapt into the tub.
***
The afternoon sky appeared as ominous as the letter felt. Alora had packed an umbrella into her satchel in hopes of warding it away. The wind picked up as she neared the end of the lane, whistling through the white tops of the overlarge trees, bending them to its will. Her hair hadn’t fully dried before she’d left home, but it was now, whipping against her face.
She pulled pieces from her mouth to smile at Reginald. Then faltered when he didn’t smile back.
“Hello, again.” She lowered her hood. “It’s me—”
“Name and appointment time.”
Alora startled. Because the voice wasn’t Reginald’s at all, but deeper and more exacting. She braved a step to peer beneath his helm. Narrowed hazel eyes stared back at her, not coppery brown. Cold eyes. A hard-set mouth. His uniform was the same down to the curling shoes and gold paint, but that was where the similarities ended. This guard did not want to make friends.
Her fingers retreated from her satchel where they’d begun to enclose a bottle of Winnowillow juice. “Alora Pennigrim,” she said. “Two o’clock.”
When he held out a hand, she didn’t place her own within it, but the letter. The guard scanned it before brusquely handing it back. A reach behind him and the gate swung in. No instruction. No warnings. The guard faced forward once more and didn’t so much as glance her way when she stepped past him and onto Opulence’s grounds.
Where has Reginald gone?She wanted to ask but was scared for the answer. She only hoped he had a day off to himself, a vacation to somewhere cool and temperate with no gold paint in sight. She hoped it, but the ominous feeling only grew. Same as the thunderclouds in the east.
Something was wrong.
The grounds were still; even the wind had vanished. Alora picked her way tensely down the lane. Aside from the darkening sky, she could neither hear nor see anything out of the ordinary. Maybe—
