It was better anyone was not touched by that blackened spirit.
Now I’m just feeling sorry for myself, which is dire as well as boring, I thought.
What I said to Josette was, “We have a long ride ahead of us on the morrow. We should both get a good night’s rest.”
She looked disappointed before she covered her expression and nodded.
“Would you like another sleeping draught?” she inquired.
I didn’t need to sleep twelve hours again (although I actually did). I needed to be up, as I’d instructed Josette to wake me, at half past five so we could see to my toilette and be away before the palace woke and became bustling. This meaning (I hoped) we’d be away without running into anyone I didn’t wish to see.
And one of those primary “anyones” was Noctorno Hawthorne of the other world.
Therefore I shook my head.
Josette nodded again and she seemed to be moving to leave before she hesitated and turned back to me.
“You’ll sleep?” she pressed.
I studied her, noting she couldn’t quite hide her feelings of worry…for me.
Thus I continued studying her, thinking, Gods, did she actually like me?
I’d never been cruel to her. I’d never been overtly kind. I respected her talents, demonstrated that in more ways than monetarily, but never told her so.
Perhaps that was just her way. I wouldn’t know, for outside her sharing gossip while she was attiring me or doing my hair, or I was giving her orders, we didn’t speak very much. But there were many, for reasons unfathomable, who were thoughtful and benevolent to just about anybody.
It appeared my maid was one of those many.
I didn’t know what to do with this. Outside Antoine—and Kristian when I allowed him to do so—no one had ever shown concern for me.
Or kindness.
Not in my life.
“Yes, Josette, I’ll sleep,” I felt safe in assuring her.
To my surprise at this juncture I endured my lady’s maid studying me, seemingly to determine if I spoke truth, before it became clear she approved of what she saw. When she did, she nodded again and made her move to leave, this time following through.
“Goodnight, Lady Franka,” she said as she walked to the dressing room door.
“Goodnight, Josette,” I replied and watched her open the door, move through it, but she gave me one last, long look before she closed it behind her.
The instant I heard it click, I turned back to the fire and whispered, “Antoine, are you there?”
I waited. I listened.
I heard nothing. I felt nothing.
I studied the flames dancing in their grate and came to the understanding Antoine was not coming to me as a spirit to keep me company in the only way he could.
It was just my conscience.
Gods, my conscience came to me in Antoine’s voice.
I supposed it would considering I’d never had one before him.
I sighed and uncurled my legs from under me, putting my bare feet to the thick rugs on the floor.
The morrow heralded the beginning of an eight-day ride to my brother through cold and snow.
Even though it might be, after having had a good sleep the night before, having been given chests of gold and jewels, new trunks filled with the finest furs, the safety wealth provided me, a plan for the coming days, months, years, that I would sleep, I was not counting on it.
So I might as well get down to it.
Whether it bring victory…
Or what I’d grown accustomed to.
Defeat.
* * * * *
Attend your father.
The hiss sounded in my ear and my eyes flew open.
I saw nothing but a dark room cut only by the faint dancing of firelight from the grate.
Attend your father!
Oh no.
Gods no.
I shot up to sitting and threw the covers off me, my gaze darting through the room.
She wouldn’t come to the Winter Palace. She’d never come to the Winter Palace.
But he would.
He most definitely would.
He did whatever he wished.
And she did whatever she had to to make that so.
Thus, worse, she’d make it safe so he could.
The buttery at the end of the hall off the kitchens, the voice instructed.
I felt the snake of panic and fear coil up my throat, but I didn’t even waste the time to snatch my shawl from the end of the bed after I jumped out of it and hurried to the door.
I just asked the room, “Do you have him?”
I’m near.
Oh gods. Gods.
Never safe. Even with trunks of jewels and gold I was never safe.
And worse, neither was Kristian.
“I’m going to him directly. Let Kristian be,” I demanded as I put my hand to the doorknob.
Accept your punishment, endure the length of it, and your brother will be safe, the voice replied.
At what I knew was to come, I felt saliva fill my mouth and swallowed it down as I pulled open the door.
The hall was lit with lantern sconces on the walls, but faintly. Hesitating only a second, I made the decision to seek the servants’ stairs, a more direct route and one where I was sure not to run into one of my kind. I had no idea where those stairs were but moved instinctively away from the main stairwell to the back of the hall.
I found them and rushed down the flights. The light even more dim there, I held on to the banister to guide my way, my bare feet making no noise on the risers.
I made the kitchens, shifting through the barely-illuminated, deserted area on darting feet, this being an area I’d been made familiar with during Frey’s first interrogation of me after a woman was poisoned at a past Bitter Gales.