I dig through a few chests, finding clothes and finery, and I think about pocketing a few of his nicer pieces, but I don’t want to bring trouble down on any of the servants, so I leave them be.
There’s nothing under any of his carpets or behind any of the tapestries on the walls. The fireplace is all set in stone, no loose bits where he might hide anything.
Last to search is his bed. I poke through the blankets, the pillows, even the curtains and the bedposts. Nothing. The mattress is lumpy but fine, and as I run my hands all over it—
Ah, finally.
There’s a small rip in the bottom, about the size of my palm. I narrow my fingers and stick my hand in, feel around in the straw and stuffing, until I brush across something flat and smooth.
I yank it out.
Parchment. A letter, the seal broken.
But when I open it, it’s utter nonsense. Not written in code, but the words themselves don’t congeal, sentences meaningless, letters written strangely. It’s like every time I force my eyes to read a word, they skip-skitter to another line until I’m dizzy with trying to figure it out.
It isn’t just the weirdness that sets me off. The whole letter glows a faint sickly green.
I refold the damn thing, head aching.
Fae magic. Like the weapons. This letter’s been imbued with it, but I don’t feel the rush of any magic seeping into me.
Did Cecil send this,Cecilput magic on it, or did Darnley, to hide it from anyone who finds it? But why keep it at all? What does it say that Darnley still needs?
More questions. Just morebloodyquestions.
I stuff the letter in my pocket and reset the bed. Everything’s as it was, no evidence of me snooping other than the missing letter, and when I get back to the main room, Darnley’s still passed out.
I’ve half a mind to do something terrible to him in his sleep. Dump his unconscious body naked in the fields outside the castle, see what he does with a bit of winter cold.
Instead, I actually listen to the bastard’s advice.
In time. Stay the course.
At his desk, I grab a piece of parchment and write onlyGoldfinch.The code for having information. I hope Alyth remembers what I told her, or else she’ll be mighty confused.
I fold it tight and tuck it into the palm of my hand as I make for the door.
Something shifts in the fireplace. Something deep behind the twitching flames and burning logs.
I frown at it and step closer, only to see one of those creatures that were with Alyth last night, the ones that held me to the wall with magic and damn near killed me.
Residual fear washes through me, but I know if the creature wanted me dead or incapacitated, I would be. Which begs the question—
I walk to the fireplace, crouch next to it, and whisper to the flames, “Why haven’t you lot taken care of this business for Alyth?” I cock my head at Darnley’s snoring form.
A beat of nothing passes.
Then one of those creatures slinks out of the fireplace, wholly unbothered by the intensity of the flames. It’s the one Alyth called by name: Kitty.
Kitty smooths her skirt and blinks up at me. “She wants more information from him, Lady Alyth says. We would kill him though. If she let us.”
I study Kitty, and she studies me.
I hold my hand out to her, the letter to Alyth pinched in my fingers. “Could you get this to her? Lady Alyth? And tell her to meet me in the morning at the stables.”
It’s late now, and I know she has more to do than talk with me. We can decipher this in the morning. My plan was to slip the note in her pocket if she was still back down in the party or find her room and wedge it under her door, but this saves me having to hunt her down.
Not that I’d mind finding her.
