Page 7 of His Noble Ruin

He looked back at my card. “A Class C journalist, however, which does not obligate me to grant you entry.”

“But you said journalists only. And Iama journalist.”

“Yes, but”—he eyed my dripping wet hair—“we have certain standards to uphold.”

I set my jaw, determined to get inside. I had a question to ask the heir and I wasn’t leaving until he heard it.

Time for a new tactic. I reached for the handful of cowry shells remaining in the bottom of my bag, careful to leave a few for later. Thanks to my rash generosity earlier today, I didn’t have as many as I wanted, but I discreetly held them out, giving the doorman a meaningful look.

His eyes widened at the sight of my money. His gloved hand crept forward, then pulled back before touching the shells, a guilty expression souring his face. He sighed. “I cannot.”

“I’ll stay in the back.” I tried to keep my voice low since a line was forming behind me, but my formality was slipping as my desperation rose. “No one will even notice I’m there.”

He paused, eyeing the shells with a gleam in his eye before shaking his head. “My apologies, miss. Please step aside.”

I bristled, furious with my lack of control.

But then he leaned in, grabbed the shells from my hand, and whispered, “You’ll find a servants’ door in the back.”

I smiled and nodded before stepping out of line and hurrying past Cael, who watched me with suspicion as I rounded the corner of the building and crept into the narrow alleyway.

Cael followed at my heels. “Where are you going?”

“The servants’ door.”

“You can’t be serious.”

I spotted the single door at the back and headed toward it.

“If only you looked decent, this wouldn’t have happened,” said Cael.

“You don’t happen to be hiding a gown under your uniform, do you?” I asked.

He stared at me without a hint of a smile.

“Oh, I forgot. No reason to be civil when my father’s not around.”

He shrugged. “I’m just not amused.”

I groaned and turned away from the soulless man before I acted on the urge to punch him in the mustache. I tested the handle of the back door. It shifted under my grip and my hope soared.

“You can’t just waltz in there,” said Cael.

“Do you have any other ideas?”

He folded his arms. “I have one, but you’ve already shot it down.”

Not this again. Cael couldn’t seem to get it through his head that I wasn’t willing to murder people. “Yeah, we’re not killing him. I’m going in.”

His eyes narrowed. “They’ll catch you.”

“Not if I’m lucky.” I shed my raincoat, took a folded paper from my bag, then tossed my things to Cael. “Keep these safe.” I tucked the paper into my boot, then turned the knob and slipped into the building, shutting the door to cut off his protests.

I found myself in a dark hall. Before stepping forward, I watched and waited, listening for the sounds to tell me I was captured and that Cael had been right.

But for the moment, I was alone.

I slowly ventured away from the door. The buzz of a crowd and heavy footsteps rumbled through the ceiling. I needed to find my way up there. I continued down the hall. An archway opened up on my left, revealing an enormous well-stocked wine cellar. At the opposite end of the room was a staircase.

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