Page 71 of Prince of Masks
Dray.
I blink on the name, the answer—
Dray flashes in my mind like a violent intrusion… but not entirely unwelcome.
Dray seeks answers. That is who he is. He doesn’t dismiss things he isn’t fond of, he is fuelled by thewhy, the answers. He investigates. Not because his curiosity knows no bounds, but because he’s the type of guy who needs to have all the answers in his pockets.
He might, at least, have one thing on deadbloods. Even just a single article.
The Sinclair Library…
It’s a risk.
But it’s also the perfect opportunity wrapped up in one tradition of ours, one day.
Rugby Sunday.
If I get caught trying to sneak into their home library of all things, I’ll be grounded for the rest of the season, sent off to Grandmother Ethel’s, or something equally as horrible like, oh I don’t know, being clubbed bloody.
It isn’t just rude to break into another family’s home library, it’s mortifying, too. To sneak off into the private, personal parts of someone’s home… even if it is the Sinclairs, it’s just not done.
It’s not right.
Yet I don’t shut it down.
I run the tip of my tongue over my lip and eye my calendar for a moment longer. The felt tip of the pen hesitates for a beat before it comes down on the Monday—the Monday after Rugby Sunday, knowing the risk of it.
If I’m caught the day before, on the Sunday, then I won’t be meeting Eric anywhere come Monday.
Still, it’s a risk I have to take, and I can’t see Eric any sooner than Monday.
Mother and Father are both home all weekend, and it ends with the annual tradition of Rugby Sunday, which leaves me no moments at all to sneak off to London for a secret date.
Pushing aside the calendar, I swap out the felt pen for the writing one and start on my letter to Eric.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek and put pen to paper—
‘Eric,
I’m sorry for the delay.
I was tied up with family matters and not at home. I’m back now, and I think I will be in England for another week before I leave for Germany.
I would like to see you, if the offer still stands.
Are you free on Monday at 11am?
We can meet at the museum in the city, see that exhibition you mentioned.
If yes, please do not write back. My mail might well be spied upon by nosy servants.’
I seal the envelopes with enchanted wax, then plant a stamp on the corner.
The wax seal, pressed with the family crest, will prevent anyone from outside of our households from opening the letters. That doesn’t exactly help with the servants, or my parents if I am right and they do read my mail.
So, once I’m finished my coffee and sandwich, and all the imps are gone from my room, I tuck the envelope into my coat pocketand head out for a walk. A little stroll in fresh countryside air does wonders for a headache.
Not that I have one.
