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“We are already moving too fast,” Alwar replies. “If I tell her more, she will spook. She must be given time to absorb the truth.”
Why do I feel like these men are putting on a performance? Because they probably are.
“I can take it. What’s the truth?” I say.
“Alwar is the overthrown king,” says Tiago.
I was not expecting him to say that.
“Do not look so surprised, Lake,” says Alwar. “Sometimes a king must make sacrifices to save his people. This—” he tugs his wrists against his chains “—is mine.”
I don’t believe anything he’s said, especially the parts where he claims I must come when called or that he’s the displaced ruler of monsters. Yet I can’t stop myself from being sucked in. Why am I so damned interested?
Is it because Grandma Rain was right? The Wall Men will say anything, do anything to get free. They’ll lie, tell stories, and try to win you over. And when that fails, they’ll seduce you.
A few days ago, I laughed at that idea right along with the notion of the Wall Men and monsters.
I’m not laughing anymore.
And from these brief interactions, I understand the meaning of Grandma Rain’s warnings. Their silver tongues and deep smooth voices suck you in. Their hard bodies are just as mesmerizing as their classic masculine facial features. I’m not going to lie, I feel drawn in already, and it’s terrifying.
If I’m going to get at the truth, I’ll need to up my game and be more cunning. I need to let Alwar think he’s luring me in, without actually allowing it to happen.
But can I really hold the line? At this point, I’m not sure.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’m all alone with Master in the main house tonight, but my resolve trumps my fear of what’s upstairs.
After a long day, I hit the shower in the bathroom downstairs—probably the only functioning one in the house. I’m always careful to bathe quickly because the property is on well water. If the pump doesn’t crap out, it’s the hot water heater, or a pipe breaks. Everything is so damned old in this house.
Until now, I never understood why my grandma was so reluctant to hire a plumber or electrician. There are things in this house no one should ever see or hear. It also explains why I always lived alone in the guesthouse. When I was little, Grandma Rain said it would help me learn to be independent. “And if you need me,” she would say, “I am just a few steps up the hill.” Having just lost my parents, I was terrified at first, but I eventually grew accustomed to sleeping in a separate dwelling. As an adult, I realized how unorthodox the arrangement was. Who makes a small child live alone? Now I get it. She wanted to shield me from the Wall Men until I was much older. I still have to wonder, though, why she insisted on staying in the big house by herself? Was it to keep an eye on them?
I guess I’ll never know.
I’m almost done rinsing my hair when I feel a finger run down my spine.
“Shit! Who the fuck is there?” I jump, the shampoo suds stinging my eyes. I wipe the foam away, blinking through the burn—enough to see my surroundings. I’m alone in the shower.
I jerk back the white plastic curtain, but no one’s in here. The door is still locked.
“It is I, Alwar.”
Crap! My entire body surges with panic. I quickly rinse the soap from my eyes. “What do you want?”
I step from the shower and towel off, my hands shaking.
“We are hungry, Lake,” says that deep voice, radiating from the wall by the sink.
I step back, trembling from head to toe. “Your voice. Why does it sound like it’s coming straight from the other side of this wall?” That was not some echo from a metal tube on the second floor. And now that I’m thinking about it, his voice sounded the same when I heard him in the kitchen and foyer.
I look up at the ceiling, thinking through the upstairs layout. The master bedroom is on the northwest corner of the house. I’m opposite that on the southwest corner.
Is he inside the wall? There’s only one way to find out. Go check.
“Um…I forgot to condition my hair!” I lie. “I’ll be upstairs after I dress.”
“You will bring us meat. And ale. Lots of it.”
I turn the shower back on, pretending I’m about to get back in. “What kind of meat? How am I supposed to cook it?”
He starts talking about some recipe Bard makes, while I slip from the bathroom. With a towel wrapped around my torso, I scurry upstairs, being as quiet as possible. I’m shivering from the draft in the house. Also, I’m scared out of my mind. Are these men really loose?
