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There was the sound of thudding boots, of another door opening—the General had moved into the bathroom. “Check the wardrobes,” he instructed. “Anything on that side of the room—”

Nero sighed under his breath, like this was all a colossal waste of time. “If it’ll set your mind at ease…”

Elena watched as his boots padded across the plush carpet, leaving imprints in the floor.

The carpet.

Was that how he knew? It was as brushed as velvet. Even the slightest indent left a mark. It should have been easily dismissed as a servant, but if the room wasn’t slated for cleaning—and General Bestiel seemed like the sort of man who would know every routine in the palace—then maybe his suspicions made sense.

She curled herself into a tight ball, pushing herself up against the wall under the bed, trying to time her movements with Nero and Bestiel’s scrambling about.

“No one in the wardrobes,” Nero reported, barely giving them a rustle. “Anything where you are?”

“No,” reported the General, his voice faraway. He seemed to have moved to an adjoining room. “Keep looking.”

Nero made a dismissive sound, half-heartedly moving behind a chair, before his boots came to rest in front of the bed.

He won’t look,Elena told herself, as her heart tried to climb out of her throat.He hasn’t really been looking before. He won’t look now. He won’t he won’t he won’t….

Nero crouched down.

Think of a story, an excuse, something!

If it was just Nero, perhaps she could manage something. She could cry—oh, how easily she could cry—and say someone had accosted her or she got lost trying to get back to her room and was confused and panicked when the door opened, certain she’d be told off for being out of bed. Nero would probably flirt with her and believe it and walk her back to her rooms. He might be suggestive; she’d deal with it.

But General Bestiel would never buy the suggestion that she was in here by mistake. Not the man who noticed scuff marks in a carpet.

Nero’s knees touched the floor. Elena squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see what happened next—

“Anything?” called the General’s voice.

Nero paused. Eternity fell between the seconds. “No,” he said slowly. “There’s no one here.”

He stood up again.

Slowly, Elena uncurled herself, hardly daring to believe what had just transpired.

The General grumbled from the next room.

“Are you all right, General?” said Nero warmly. “I know you’ve been busy of late. Shall we have a spot of tea, maybe a brandy? Both? Together? Don’t tell the Toulousians, I can’t imagine dear—”

“A brandy,” said the General.

“Good choice.”

Nero crossed the room, his polished boots shining against the velvety carpet, disappearing behind the polished oak door.

Elena waited until the door closed—and then a little longer just to be sure it wasn’t a trap—before wriggling out of her hiding spot and sprinting back to her room. She didn’t breathe until the door was closed behind her, and her first few breaths were so rapid they almost choked her. She hovered over the sink for a moment, thinking she might be sick, before finally giving up and sliding to the ground.

What had she just done? What had justhappened?

Was it possible that Nero hadn’t seen her—that she’d blended into the background, or he hadn’t really looked? That had to be it, right? He just hadn’t seen her. He’d only pretended to look. There was no way he’d let her go.

She half expected him to appear any moment, complete with some story about not wanting to involve the General, but demanding an immediate explanation.

But he did not come.

Pain.