Page 97 of Prince of Masks
Then pauses.
A frown cuts into his face.
I blink at him, my heart stilling in my chest—what if he’s changing his mind? What if he will throw me to the wolves just for the fun of breaking our deal…?
Or he might be deciding to lock me in here after all.
No, I am wrong. All of those panicked thoughts are far from the truth.
Because Dray says, “Did you close this door?”
I am silent for a moment, my heart thudding against my ribs, and I slide my gaze to the door that is very much shut.
“No,” I whisper, soft, “I didn’t.”
Dray tugs it open. He looks out into the corridor and apparently finds it empty as he stalks out.
The look he throws back at me is impatient.
I shove into step behind him, but I keep a distance, more than an arm’s reach between us.
“Who would’ve done that?” I ask, hushed. “Seen us… like…that… and closed the door?”
He doesn’t look over his shoulder at me as he leads the way back to the staircase. “A high-ranking servant.”
I nod because that makes sense.
Low ranks wouldn’t dare touch the door, make any sort of decision beyondturn around, leave, and mind my damn business.But higher than a servant, someone like Amelia or Mother, Mr Vasile, what-have-you, would have made their presence known. They would have interrupted with shock or judgement at finding us like that.
It must have been a servant, one of high status, like the butler or steward.
The relief is a sagging breath that loosens from me, and I follow Dray down the stairs—until the rise of voices halts us both.
A lot of voices.
The whole party is moving down the passage from the terrace and sunroom to the foyer.
Dray looks back at me, three steps up from him, and reaches out his hand.
The wide-eyed look I aim at him isn’t kind.
He arches his brow, then curls his fingers, once, twice, and mouths a silent, “Now.”
I take the steps down to stand beside him, but I don’t give him my hand.
He has had enough of me. Not just today, but for life, and he will never get that again.
Dray murmurs, soft, “Let me handle it.”
I swat at my hot cheeks, as though to cool them, then I mirror him down the stairs.
We turn the corner just as the party is coming out of the passage, and into the foyer.
Amelia comes to a sudden stop and flings her dazzling stare between us, back and forth, back and forth.
Beside her, Mother lingers a frown over me for a beat, then turns to arch her neck and find my father.
Our late arrival hasn’t gone unnoticed by him.
