Page 20 of Façade

“There’s no need to accompany me,” I informed them. “I’m simply retiring for the night due to a headache.”

They frowned but made no motion to disobey me, though I had no doubt it wouldn’t be long before they informed Ryland of my whereabouts. I just hoped they at least waited until I’d had enough time to uncover something useful.

As soon as I was out of sight of the guests lingering in the hallway, I lifted my skirts and increased my pace, keeping my quick footsteps quiet so as to avoid notice. The sounds of the ball faded in the distance, leaving only my ragged breaths and the erratic pounding of my heart.

The first place I wanted to search was Ryland’s study. I jiggled the handle. Locked, unsurprisingly. Thankfully, I’d prepared for this possibility. I tugged a hairpin free from its confining updo and crouched in front of the knob, for once grateful for my tendency to flitter from one hobby to another that had compelled me to learn a skill unconventional for a princess.

However, these studies had been just as fleeting as my others, forcing me to waste several precious minutes working the lock. The task became more difficult when every possibility of what would happen should I be discovered prevented me from focusing on the lock; the anxiety nearly suffocated my movements and my hand slipped more than once, forcing me to restart.

After several tense minutes, the click of the lock finally echoed through the abandoned corridor. I immediately slipped inside and quietly closed the door behind me. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to darkness shrouding the room save for the dying embers from the fire, just bright enough for me to locate a candle and light it. Its smoke curled into the air even as the flickering flame cast pools of faint amber light across the study. The room was spacious and elegant, distinctively masculine in style, and divided into two sections with a wall acting as a partition between the two halves.

The first section contained a mahogany desk and several towering shelves. I first rummaged through the drawers, but unfortunately, Ryland wasn’t dense enough to hide anything in plain sight, yet I was still disappointed I didn’t discover any hints about what afflicted Brimoire or their plans for Estoria’s magic.

With a frustrated sigh, I slammed the desk drawer shut and stomped towards the bookshelves to peruse the titles. None of the numerous of volumes appeared to be about anything suspicious or useful for my goals, and I didn’t know my husband well enough to know which he might use to conceal hidden information. I flipped through a few books at random before opting to search the second half of his study, a sitting room that contained additional shelves and a filing system, which both seemed promising.

I’d only rummaged through this area for a few minutes, doing my best to be quick and thorough while keeping everything as I’d found it, when suddenly the sound of a door silently swinging open pierced the stillness. I immediately blew out the candle, but with the moment’s delay, the intruder had already seen the light, alerting them to my presence.

I remained still, holding my breath as I searched the darkness for any further sounds. Though all was quiet, I detected someone, a presence similar to what I’d felt from the mysterious man watching me from the shadows.

Fear clogged my throat as I crept towards the central wall dividing the study and pressed myself against it…where I waited. All seemed still…until I faintly detected careful footsteps exploring the study, inching closer to my hiding place. It didn’t feel like Ryland; I couldn’t even begin to guess when I’d come to know my husband well enough to be able to decipher his presence, but in this tense moment, that was my least pressing worry.

Even though I didn’t truly expect to discover anything, instinct compelled me to mentally reach in the direction of the approaching footsteps, the sensation of stretching out an invisible hand to investigate the spaces filling the darkness, leaving an almost tingly trail in its wake. I imagined myself searching the air around the intruder, and after careful analysis, I eventually came to the conclusion that the one who’d entered the room was the same man who’d been watching me. The question that remained was: who was he and what did he want?

Eventually the man stepped into the section of the room where I hid. The sliver of moonlight peeking through the drapes glistened against something in his hand…a knife. I pressed my hand over my mouth to prevent my frightened gasp from escaping and revealing my whereabouts.

Panic pulsed with every wild beat of my heart even as instinct compelled me to immediately try to escape, but I forced myself to wait until the intruder ventured several feet into the room before I carefully inched around the partition, careful to muffle my movements. I’d just reached the door on tiptoe when a sharp grip seized hold of my arm. His nails scraped my skin, but I managed to break free long enough to fling the door open and run, desperate to put as much distance between me and the assailant as I could before he followed.

I expected a pursuit similar to the one I’d encountered in the abandoned alley the previous week, but I managed to reach the end of the corridor just as Ryland rounded the corner. He caught me in a firm grip before I could careen into him.

“There you are, Evelyn. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why did you leave the ball?”

Disapproval hardened his expression, but in this moment there had never been a more welcome sight. Before he could question me further, I pressed myself against him with a strangled sob, relishing both his presence and his perfectly timed arrival. While I still didn’t trust him, he’d demonstrated enough consideration in our short marriage that I far preferred him over than the assassin I’d encountered within his study. I glanced behind me, fully expecting the intruder to have followed…but the corridor remained empty.

Ryland stiffened at my proximity and immediately pressed his hands against my shoulders, as if he meant to push me away. “Evelyn, what are you…Evelyn?”

His tone completely transformed from annoyance to one that actually sounded…concerned. Only then did I notice the tremors rippling over me.

“Evelyn?” He raised a hesitant hand and, after an uncertain pause, rested it against my trembling back. “What happened?”

I couldn’t answer. I clutched his lapels tighter, finding a solace from clinging to him I’d never expected to feel from my supposed enemy. And though I couldn’t deny the possibility that he was somehow connected to the intruder I’d just encountered, in this moment I felt strangely safe.

This sense of security expanded when he awkwardly began patting my back. I stole a tentative peek up at him. Gone was his usual seriousness, replaced by a hidden gentleness that soothed my lingering fear. He tended to me like any husband might, his movements shy and a bit awkward, as if he had no idea how to soothe his frantic wife. I never knew my husband could be so sweet…which only made everything more confusing. And even though I suspected his consideration was merely a means to achieve his greedy ends, in this moment I could almost believe him sincere, such a contrast to the cold hostility that had filled every previous step of our dance.

He gave my back a few uncertain pats, his touch a bit too rough to be fully soothing, yet they comforted me all the same. “What happened?” he asked again.

I hiccuped in response. Only then did I realize I was crying, soaking his shirt with my tears, yet he still didn’t push me away. We remained in this position for several minutes, during which I debated whether or not I should tell him of the intruder I’d encountered in his study…but then I’d be forced to admit I’d been snooping, a confession that would shatter the surrounding contentment I wanted to bask in for as long as possible.

He finally stirred to cup my chin, his gaze concerned as he took in my blotchy eyes and tear-streaked face. “We should do something for those tears. I know just the thing.”

His arm came around me to lead me along the corridor, pausing only to glance towards his study door, left slightly ajar. He frowned and opened it wide enough to peek inside. I expected an interrogation to immediately follow, but when he returned to take my arm, he made no inquires about my presence so near his private room.

Whatever his suspicions, his touch remained tender as he escorted me away from his study. I feared we were returning to the ball, but at the main landing he changed directions and instead guided me to a back staircase near the dining hall that led down into a small kitchen, surprisingly empty considering we were in the middle of a grand event.

“This is a private kitchen for our family’s personal use that’s never used for events,” he explained. “No one shall disturb us here.”

He eased me into a seat before rummaging through a cupboard for a kettle and a jar of milk, which he set to boiling on a hook above the hearth after stoking the flames to life from the dying embers. I watched in bewilderment, stunned that the perfect portrait of a prince was not only performing a menial chore but doing so with such adept movements.

A cozy silence stretched between us as he worked, one entirely absent of the confrontation I’d fully expected after he’d not only caught me escaping the ball prematurely but found me so close to his private study. His earlier behavior made me suspect he knew I’d been poking around in places I shouldn’t. Unfortunately, the man wasn’t stupid; enemies were so much easier to handle when they were.

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