Page 40 of A Spell of Heart & Havoc

I couldn’t help the small—tiny, practically infinitesimal—sting of being snubbed by Dove. She did just have her tongue in my mouth not two minutes ago. And had her hands all over me like it was her personal mission to memorize the feel of my boobs.

Annoyed with myself, I headed back down the hall and stairwell, slipping silently to the dining room door again. Maybe the lord and lady… ahh yes—sounds of lightly clinking silverware and a hushed conversation seeped through the doorframe. They were still in there, discussing the morning’s events as I’d hoped. Lady Iris’s peeved voice came through first.

“… just can be so difficult, and I’m exhausted from dealing with her.”

“I know, dear, I know. It’s just her moods; she can’t help it. You know what she’s like, and the, ah, financial stickiness these past years hasn’t helped things. Just a difficult time for our family, it is.” Lord Wistrallo sounded as if he was trying to soothe his partner’s ruffled feathers.

The lady sniffed. “At least we’ll have a break for a few weeks. And thank goddess you had the foresight to be putting aside some of the coin from those, ah, arrangements each time. It’s so nice to have a little nest egg building for us, just in case.”

“Too right, dear, too right,” the lord said with a chuckle. “Try as she might, our little Dovey can’t possibly handle all the estate’s finances. Keeping a bit from each sale tucked away is just good sense.”

“And she knows better than to go sniffing around my closet. Remember the time I caught her in there when she was, oh, thirteen or fourteen, trying on all my best hats?” Iris laughed, and the sound rankled me. “Learned her lesson after I didn’t speak a word to her for two whole weeks, didn’t she?”

Ugh, these people. I turned away from the door, feeling a bit disgusted. The image of a small thirteen-year-old Dove, getting yelled at for playing dress-up, swam up in my mind. Her little face. Our own ma had never treated Balfie or me the way the Wistrallos disciplined Dove—I couldn’t imagine Ma going a whole day without talking to me, let alone two weeks. Was that how she was raised?

Shaking my head, I made a quick decision and moved up the stairwell and through the hall to Lady Iris’s rooms before I could second-guess myself. Using the gimmee, I unlocked her suite’s door and made my way to her massive closet, quickly but carefully rummaging around among the gowns, shoes, and yes, many hats, to find—yes. Gotcha.

Tucked under a pile of cashmere knitwear was a small safe bolted to the floor. The gimmee made quick work of the lock, and I peered inside.

Gold. Neat piles of gold coin, a small but respectable amount, maybe forty or fifty pieces altogether. The sight of it nearly made me salivate. I’d never seen so much coin in one place. This was it—this was something real that I could offer Zephyra. The guildmaster would be pleased, and I’d get my promised reward.

I had to move quickly—there was no telling how soon the lady might be coming upstairs after breakfast. And while I’d become an excellent hider during my time in the guild, I sincerely didn’t want to be stuck behind the rack of gowns for ages and risk getting caught. I did a quick count of the shiny, beautiful coins, closed the safe and spun its dial to relock it, and ducked silently out of the lady’s suite and down to the stables to send a messenger raven. Scrawling a swift coded note to Zephyra, I reread it once:

Have discovered a sizable stash of coin in Lady W’s closet safe. 47 gold pieces. Safe is magic but easily opened by gimmee. Overheard talk between the lord & lady about “sales” & “arrangements” that they’ve skimmed this money from, presumably before passing the remaining on to Lady D for household management. D appears to be unaware.

—M

A trickle of unease wriggled in my stomach, but I ignored it and sent the raven off toward the guild before I could hesitate. This had to be done. For Balfie.

Finally, I made my way swiftly upstairs and slipped into my own room. After closing the door, I leaned back against it and forced my thoughts away from what I’d overheard, the gold, and the raven to Zephyra. I’d made a decision to notify the guildmaster about the family’s secret savings, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it now.

I tried to focus on the room around me, taking it all in as I calmed my racing heartbeat. Everything was still neat as a pin, just as I’d kept it since I arrived. Moving around slowly, I let myself enjoy the feeling of having a nice space that was just for me. Clean and warm. A simple but plush bed. Floors that smelled of citrusy wood cleaner and little drawers to fill up with clothes and belongings that I didn’t have.

The prioresses still tried, from time to time over the years, to convince me that I should make a home with them there. “Stay for a while,” they’d say, “Just rest, Maerryl. You’re not helping anyone by wearing yourself to the bone.” So I’d remain for a few days, maybe a week. Taking up residence in a little spare room in the acolyte quarters that they insisted on keeping for me. Eat their food, pitch in where I could, and spend the rest of my time in the infirmary.

But at a certain point, it was impossible to stay. How could I, when the only thing that would really help was to be out there, earning more coin. Or now, I supposed, stealing more coin.

I dropped the worn velvet pillow I’d been squeezing back on the armchair with a sigh. Being here in this manor, in this room, should grate on me more. But I was tired, and it was comfortable. And maybe the reason I didn’t mind being here, at least in this room, was because technically I was on a job. Possibly the job that could fix things forever.

For the first time, I felt a twinge of discomfort at the thought. If all went well—if I played my part, satisfied Zephyra, and we pulled off this heist down the line—I could have everything I’d wanted for the past three years. That’s what I’d been repeating to myself, day in and day out, since I arrived at this manor. But now…

Dove’s face rose in my mind, a rare smile on her perfect lips and a challenge in her gaze. She hadn’t been a part of the plan. What happened with her—goddess, though, what was happening??—made everything more complicated.

A gentle meow sounded from a corner of the room, and I leapt nearly a foot in the air. Spinning around, I spotted a giant calico fluffball with legs jump up onto my bed. I moved closer, and it meowed again, strutting around in a little circle on my duvet before butting its soft head against my hip. Dove’s cat—Bluebell, I thought.

Perching on the edge of the bed, I carefully pet the animal’s thick, fluffy coat. It loved the attention, sprawling out its massive body for maximum pets. As I obliged, my thoughts strayed back to Dove.

I knew my moral compass had gone a bit wonky, maybe, recently. Hard to tell right from wrong sometimes when your whole objective in life was to save someone you loved. If I’d been told a few years ago that by today, I’d be a member of the Takers Guild, robbing the rich and doing the bidding of a power-obsessed tiefling, I would have howled with laughter for days. But here I was.

And yet… this, whatever was happening now, felt like I’d gone too far. Becoming intimate with my mark, lying to her face while I kissed it. Even if it hadn’t been intentional. And it definitely hadn’t—until the moment we collided in the road yesterday, I was sure I hated her—but it didn’t matter. Whatever I felt now, this strange mix of desire, intrigue, resentment, jealousy, and pure need—it changed things. I couldn’t become closer to Dove without being honest with her. That would be wrong.

Wouldn’t it?

I groaned, burying my face in Bluebell’s warm, fluffy bulk, wishing for the millionth time that my parents were still around to help me figure out what to do. She purred loudly, unperturbed by my moral conflict.

Pulling away, despite Bluebell’s meow of protest, I forced myself to move to the middle of the room and go through my exercises. I’d had a terrible night’s sleep, tossing around with dreams of Dove, and had awoken abruptly and much later than normal. The sun had already started to rise. I’d thrown on pants and a loose linen top, not bothering with my full leathers, and headed to Dove’s door. Determined to talk through this thing between us. Or at the very least, kiss her annoyingly perfect mouth again.

When she hadn’t answered my knock, I pressed my palm flat against the door, waiting for the tingle that signaled the door was unlocked. But Dove didn’t appear in her bedroom, bathroom, sitting room. Trying to tamp down the irrational worry that had seeped into my stomach, I’d resealed the door and raced to her studio and then her office—nothing.