Page 108 of A Weave of Lies
She was in trouble, but her opportunity wasn’t yet lost—if she could catch Callum before the monster got back to her, she might still escape. It all depended on who stood behind her. If it was Themas, she was safe. If it were anyone else …
Semras breathed deeply, then forced herself to turn and face her fate.
But no one stood there.
She blinked. Was this a trap? She had heard no one behind her—not while listening in on the inquisitors’ conversation, and not even when she had tried to run after being caught. And neither had she when her captor threw a glance over her shoulder.
Maybe … maybe there was no one. Maybe the monster hadn’t wanted Inquisitor Callum to know he had a prisoner and had tried to intimidate her into returning to her cage on her own.
The witch swept her gaze through the hallway once more.
Still empty and silent. Only a light waft of air coursed through it, rippling through the curtains and tapestries hung on the walls.
Semras took a few hesitating steps, then some more—still no one. Trap or no trap, she’d never willingly return to her cage.
She slipped into the servant staircase and hid there, ears strained for any hint of a newcomer. Body taut and ready to snap into a run, she waited for the inquisitors to finish their conversation. An incessant draft blew on her skin, raising goosebumps of cold over goosebumps of fear.
The monster wouldn’t let her slip through his fingers again. If she did not catch Inquisitor Callum, if she could not convince him to help her …
Then Velten would break her.
Chapter 24
Halfanhourpassedbefore the parlour door opened—half of an excruciating hour of cold sweats and shivers of stress and jumping at shadows, expecting to be caught at any moment. When the sound of swinging hinges freed her from the agony, Semras released her breath and listened in.
“No need to escort me. I remember the way out,” she heard Cael say.
Her captor grunted. “As long as you do not get ‘lost’ like last time.”
Heavy footsteps thundered up the main stairs. Half a moment later, others walked away from it.
Semras waited. The monster might yet come back down.
When she felt confident he wouldn’t, she carefully opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
No one stood there, but she hadn’t heard Cael go down to the ground floor either, so he must have still been nearby.
She walked down the hall—at first with unhurried steps, fearing she’d attract attention, then faster and faster as she circled around corridors and corners without crossing the pathof anyone. Her heart fluttered like a caged bird. If Inquisitor Callum had left already …
No, he couldn’t. He had to be inside the house. But where was he?
Semras walked past for the umpteenth time the alcoves lining the hallway, carefully keeping her eyes away from them. Its large window overlooked the front yard, and part of her feared it would only show a black and gold carriage leaving the estate with her only hope.
She bit her lip, trying to fight back the sinking of her heart. Cael might already be gone, after all.
“Well met, Miss Witch.”
Hands flying to her mouth, Semras stamped down a strangled cry.
Inquisitor Callum stood behind her, emerging from the window alcove she had just passed by. He was smiling at her, but it didn’t reach his dark, focused eyes. “I had a feeling you eavesdropped not because you missed our dear Estevan, but because you wanted to talk to me—alone. Was I wrong?”
“No, sir,” she said carefully.
Was she supposed to call him ‘sir’? She couldn’t exactly ask Ulrech which form of address would be appropriate to use right now. Maybe it should have been ‘my lord,’ as so many called her captor, but how many lords could the Deprived peerage possibly count? She could only hope she hadn’t insulted him into changing his mind.
Shoulders thrown back, hands casually buried in the pockets of dark trousers, the inquisitor looked perfectly relaxed, and yet … the sharpness of his gaze and the way it caught even her every movement put her on guard. Something in the angle of his body, and the glint of his eyes, and the edge of his polite smile felt oddly … familiar.
It hit her suddenly. If it hadn’t been for his red locks and his dark green eyes, she could have mistaken him for the madman who imprisoned her. They both possessed the same stance, the same predatory aura.
