“Was it the storm? Thunder gives my sister nightmares.” Aoife’s chest tightened thinking of Maire. The storm was sure to have been just as bad down in the village, and for the first time in her sister’s life, Aoife wasn’t there to comfort her.
“Some stories aren’t mine to tell,” Mrs Harrow replied.
Aoife swallowed the questions rising in her throat.
Mrs Harrow moved behind her, lifting the gown over Aoife’s head and settling it over her shoulders. As she fastened the back, her hands paused.
When Aoife turned her head, Mrs Harrow’s expression was unreadable.
“Miss Aoife,” she said. “If you ever feel… if you want to…” She trailed off, still searching for the right words. “If you feel an urge to escape, come to me.”
The words seemed disconnected from the conversation they were having, weighted with history Aoife did not yet understand.
“Come to me first, all right?” Mrs Harrow was serious as she said it.
Did the staff know about her oath? It didn’t seem so. If they did, Mrs Harrow wouldn’t worry about her trying to run away.
“I will. Thank you.”
Mrs Harrow drew in a slow breath and turned away before Aoife could ask anything else.
“Come along then,” she said softly. “Breakfast won’t wait.”
***
Breakfast was set precisely as ever.
Halverton sat at the head of the table, shoulders rigid, eyes shadowed. He looked… older. Drawn. As though the night had carved hollows beneath his eyes.
He didn’t greet her when she entered.
He didn’t look at her at all.
Aoife took a seat at the place laid out for her at the other end of the table, relieved they would not have a repeat of last night. The scrape of cutlery filled the silence between them. Halverton moved mechanically, as though the world around him were an unpleasant dream he’d prefer not to acknowledge.
When he finished, he pushed back his chair abruptly and rang the bell.
“Have my things ready,” Halverton ordered as soon as Alton stepped into the room. “Tell the stable master I’ll need my horse.”
Halverton swept from the dining room without once looking her way.
Aoife ate her fill, pleased that, with Halverton gone, she would not have to overeat.
How long would he be gone? How long to reach the horses, to saddle up? She knew nothing about tending horses. Five minutes? Ten? Maybe more.
However long it took, this was a chance that might not come again for a while. Last night had shown her she could not rely on changing Halverton. He was unlikely to be swayed. She needed to take matters into her own hands.
She laid her cutlery down and listened. After a few minutes Halverton’s voice reached her, muffled by the door, as he spoke to Alton. The front door opened with a creak and closed with a thud, echoing in the vast entrance hall.
She rose from her chair, thanked Kit and James, and left the breakfast room. In the entrance hall, she watched as Alton vanished around the far corner. She crossed the room, trying to appear nonchalant, and entered the corridor that led to Halverton’s study. Every step was too loud to her ears, though the carpets muffled her movements.
None of the servants should be wandering about in this area of the house, but she checked over her shoulder in case.
When she reached his study, she cast one last quick glance up and down the corridor before slipping inside.
She approached the desk slowly, acutely aware that she stood inside the heart of his power. Papers sat in neat stacks.
Her fingers hovered over the letters. Seals of imperial red, the double crest of crown and sword, stood out on every sheet.
