Not too close, of course. The wretched woman had an otherworldly sense for detecting non-Noble blood in her presence.
Decision made, Emmaline moved quickly. She stacked her ledgers neatly, tucked a loose parchment into her bag, and slung it over her shoulder before sweeping out of her study. The low heels of her shoes tapped softly against the stone floors as she made her way through the winding halls, her pulse picking up with each step.
By the time she reached Lady Isolde’s wing of the castle, her stomach twisted in anticipation. This was risky. But she had to see him, and she was running out of time.
Emmaline positioned herself down the hall of the salon entryway, near the arched doorway leading to the Glider port. It was the route Caelith would have to take when leaving for the evening. She kept her posture poised, hands lightly grazing the fabric of her gown as she adjusted her stance, making sure the dim corridor lighting caught the silver embroidery just right.
Any moment now. When Caelith emerged, he’d have no choice but to notice her.
And then, the door opened.
She held her breath.
The man stepped out. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up carelessly, while a heavy sapphire ring gleamed on his handas he reached up to adjust one of the many expensive necklaces draped across his throat.
And—yes!—his gaze landed on her dress, his mouth pulling into a slow, idle grin.
Emmaline’s heart fluttered triumphantly. She tilted her head just so, letting her chestnut-colored hair cascade over her shoulder like she’d practiced. Margo always said it was her best feature.
Then his eyes roamed, and the moment stretched and stretched as he took in her out-of-place shoes, the ink stains smudged across her fingers, and the way her hair had come loose from its careful styling. By the time his eyes lifted back to hers, the spark of curiosity had vanished.
What remained was… not quite disgust. Just absence.
Emmaline felt the moment slip through her fingers. Felt it shatter like brittle glass at her feet.
“My Lord!” She took a hurried step closer, hands fluttering before she clasped them together. “What a coincidence, seeing you here.”
Caelith barely glanced at her. “Is it?”
She let out a breathy, unnecessary laugh. “Yes, well, I—I thought you might notice my dress. It’s a family piece, and I—”
“Mm.” He made a vague, uninterested sound, already angling his body away.
Oh no, you don’t.
She pivoted, stepping into his path. “I was just telling your father how we should invest in spider silk like this; it’s making a huge comeback,” she said, injecting pride into her voice. “If you remember, I handle all his affairs.”
His gaze flicked back to her, but the spark of recognition she was hoping for did not come. If anything, he looked vaguely annoyed.
“Yes, well.” He inspected his nails. “I suppose someone has to do that sort of thing.”
She swallowed hard, trying again. “And last night! You and I worked so well together.”
That got a reaction.
Caelith’s eyes snapped to hers, all disinterest gone. In its place was something dangerous and hostile.
Emmaline’s breath stuttered.
He shifted forward, looming over her. “I beg your pardon?”
She hesitated, the weight of his stare pinning her in place. “I—I just meant, with the… the whole situation, and the way things unfolded, I thought—”
Caelith’s fingers closed around her wrist, stopping the rest of the words from leaving her mouth.
“You will never mention last night again.” His grip wasn’t hard, not yet, but it sent a jolt of warning through her. “Not to me. Not to anyone.”
Emmaline’s throat bobbed.
