Page 26 of A Spell of Heart & Havoc

I checked for the gimmee in a small pouch on my belt now, touching it with careful fingers as I approached the lord’s desk. Let’s see what you’re hiding, fancy-pants. The desk was massive, and, as I’d expected, ridiculously ornate. Carved swirls and swooshes covered the polished marble surface, and each handle was a different metal fruit. Shaking my head, I crouched down, keeping below the top of the desk in case anyone walked in. The waning daylight coming through the windows would have been enough for me to work with, but there was also a softly glowing yellow magelight in the corner. They probably just left that on all day. Wasteful assholes.

I lightly brushed my fingertips all over the inner walls and the underside. Pressing carefully into the seams of the wood, I hunted for any hidden compartments. This was the trickiest bit, and often the most rewarding, so I always checked here first.

But nothing. So I moved on to the drawers. Starting at the bottom and moving my way up, I slid each one open, searched carefully, and closed them as silently as I could. Nothing of importance; mostly just import order records from merchants, flyers from old art auctions and gallery shows, signed bills of sale and authenticity records for countless works of art. An obscene amount of coin being spent by the lord and lady. Mainly the lord, from the looks of it. But nothing about coin coming in.

I worked my way up the desk, keeping an ear trained on the hall. Finally, my hands snagged on the last drawer, in the top left corner. It wouldn’t budge. A thrill jolted in my chest, but I kept my fingers steady. Pulling the gimmee out, I pressed it gently against the keyhole like Zephyra had instructed, waiting. After a moment, the gray stone seemed to pulse, just once and then…

Click.

I slid the narrow drawer open. Some scraps of parchment, a couple broken quills, but underneath—jewels. Most of them were tiny, smaller than my pinkie toenail. But some as large as boysenberries. There were at least twenty of them, an array of reds, blues, yellows, greens. Every shade of the rainbow, and just as sparkly, catching the soft magelight in their facets. I plucked up an amethyst about the size of a small kidney bean. It was off-kilter, lopsided and imperfect, but still lovely. Would they even miss it? These people, these decadent people, who kept such wealth loose in a simple locked drawer rather than a bank or a vault?

Maybe they were fakes. That could be their con.

But even as I thought that, I knew it was untrue. I stood and held the amethyst close to the lamp to be sure, inspecting how the light played in its depths. No, this was real. Poorly cut, perhaps from an inexperienced jeweler, but real. One of the first things the Takers Guild made sure we knew was how to tell a fake from the true thing.

Instead of placing the amethyst back among its fellows, I brushed its smooth surface once and carefully tucked it into my belt purse, heart racing. This was it. Something substantial that I could send to Zephyra, show that I was making progress. And I’d bet my boots that Lord Wistrallo wouldn’t even notice. I’d send the jewel to Zephyra so she could have it tested, maybe learn more about its origin and quality—there were magically-trained messenger birds in the stables that I’d been told I could use when needed.

I checked the drawer for hidden compartments, just to be thorough, then covered all the jewels with the junk before carefully closing the drawer. Enough for now. A fair amount of time had passed, and Dove would be waking soon, if she hadn’t already. I’d need to pick this up again another day.

Listening at the door for steps in the hall, I slipped silently out and made my way outside to where the messenger birds were kept in a coop near the stables; thankfully, the stablemaster wasn’t about. After scrawling a quick coded note updating Zephyra on my mission, I sent the amethyst off with a large raven, watching as it made its way north through the rapidly dimming sky. Please, please let this satisfy the guildmaster for now, I thought, throwing a half-hearted prayer to the dual goddess for luck. Once the raven was out of sight, I continued my “security check” near the entrance until Petra came to call, finding me conveniently hard at work making the manor even safer for her mistress.

As I strolled slowly along the house’s front, pretending to inspect window frames and tree climbability, the alluring pull of those remaining jewels nagged at me. They’d make a heavy handful. As imperfect as they were, I knew they’d pull a sizable amount on the black market.

A fallback plan, I decided. If things went tits up here, I’d grab them and run. Sell the lot for whatever I could as quickly as possible, get the coin for Balfie’s cure to the priory for safekeeping, and go underground until the heat wore off.

This settled, I breathed a little more easily. I always felt better with a backup plan.

13

DOVE

Back in the safety of my rooms, I tore off my boots, riding habit, and corset as quickly as I could without Petra’s help. Which was not very quickly at all. But eventually, I was down to my underthings and threw a silk robe around me before flopping onto the chaise lounge with a sigh. I bit into the ouillo I’d brought up from the kitchens, its purple juiciness tasting like perfection after a long day. Father imported them specially from all the way up north for me, one of his rare shows of affection. Although it meant a bit less now that I was paying for them—and everything else for our household. And had taken over balancing our books and budgets about a year ago. And was trying to rein in my parents’ tendencies toward extravagance. But still. A nice thought.

Birds chattered outside an open window. The scent of roast pheasant drifted up from the kitchens, and the ouillo’s sweetness covered my tongue. I let myself relax. Muscles loosening, tension headache lessening. It was such a sweet relief to be back here, after the events of the morning. And that… encounter… with Maerryl in the kitchens.

Suddenly, knocking came at my suite’s door, soft but insistent. Petra.

Groaning, I pushed myself up on the chaise. “One moment! I’m coming.”

Petra rushed in as soon as I unlocked the door. “My lady! Dove, are you alright?” She looked me over, face full of concern, but I brushed away her flapping hands.

“Yes, yes, I’m perfectly fine. Don’t fret.”

“But you were gone for hours and hours! I was so worried,” Petra said. Satisfied that I was at least unharmed, she began to bustle around the room, picking up all of the garments that I’d abandoned haphazardly. A slight twinge of self-consciousness at my mess arose, and I moved to help. Petra shooed me away, pointing to my favorite squishy armchair.

“You just rest, lady. I’m sure you’ve had quite the day. I’ll build up that fire in a moment,” she said, shaking out my riding outfit and inspecting the filthy hems. “Now, tell me what you’ve been up to out there.”

I moved to the fireplace and grabbed the poker, meaning to stir the embers up as I’d seen the servants do countless times before. I’d never quite got the hang of this when we were down on help in the lean times, but I suddenly wanted to feel useful.

But Petra clucked and dashed over, gently pulling the poker out of my hand and guiding me to the chair. “I’ll take care of this, lady, please,” she said in her soft, firm way. Irritation flared. Can’t I do anything, even in my own home?

She stoked the morning’s few remaining embers, adding tinder and a match, building the tiny flame to a proper fire in no time. Then she smiled tentatively at me, wringing her hands, as if she’s sensed my annoyance. “Is everything alright, Dove?”

I instantly felt like an ungrateful ass. She was just trying to help. What was wrong with me today?

“Yes, of course. Just a bit weary,” I said. “Thank you for doing that. Would you also fetch our tea from the kitchens? I’ll tell you all about my adventures as we eat.” She beamed and hustled out, my dirty clothes piled in her arms for drop-off in the laundry.

I leaned back in the armchair, letting my eyelids drift closed as I enjoyed the play of the fire’s warmth over my tired limbs. What a day.