this exactly where Thiel kept his rooms. She only knew they were on the fourth level, northish, though obviously not within Leck's maze. That evening, she asked Darby for more specific directions.
In the correct hallway, she consulted a footman, who stared at her with fish eyes and pointed wordlessly at a door.
Somewhat unsettled, Bitterblue knocked. There was a pause.
Then the door swung inward and Thiel stood before her, staring down at her. His shirt was open at the throat and untucked. "Lady Queen," he said, startled.
"Thiel. Did I bring you out of bed?"
"No, Lady Queen."
"Thiel!" she said, noticing a small patch of red above one of his cuffs. "You're bleeding! Are you all right? What happened?"
"Oh," he said, looking down, searching his chest and arms for the offending spot, covering it with his hand. "It's nothing, Lady Queen, nothing except my own clumsiness. I'll see to it immediately. Would you—would you care to come in?"
He pulled the door fully open and stood aside awkwardly while she passed through. It was a single room, small, with a bed, a washstand, two wooden chairs, no fireplace, and a desk that seemed far too small for such a large man, as if he must knock his knees against the wall when he used it. The air was too cold and the light too dim. There were no windows.
When he offered her the better of the straight-backed chairs, Bitterblue sat, uncomfortable, embarrassed, and unaccountably confused. Thiel went to the washstand, turned his injured side away from her, rolled up his sleeve, and did something or other with pats of water and bandages. A stringed instrument stood in an open case against the wall. A harp. Bitterblue wondered if, when Thiel played it, its sound reached all the way to Leck's maze.
She also saw a bit of broken mirror on the washstand.
"Has this always been your room, Thiel?" she asked.
"Yes, Lady Queen," he said. "I'm sorry it's not more welcoming."
"Was it—assigned to you," Bitterblue asked carefully, "or did you choose it?"
"I chose it, Lady Queen."
"Do you never wish for a larger space?" she asked. "Something more like mine?"
"No, Lady Queen," he said, coming to sit across from her. "This suits me."
It did not suit him. This bare, comfortless square of a room, the gray blanket on the bed, the dreary-looking furniture did not in any way match his dignity, his intelligence, or his importance to her or to the kingdom.
"Have you been making Darby and Rood go to work every day?" she asked him. "I've never known either of them to go so long without a breakdown."
He studied his own hands, then cleared his throat delicately. "I have, Lady Queen. Though of course I could not insist it of Rood today. I confess that whenever they've asked for my guidance, I have given it. I hope you don't feel that I've been imposing myself."
"Have you been very bored?" she asked him.
"Oh, Lady Queen," he said fervently, as if the question itself were relief from boredom. "I've been sitting in this room with nothing to do but think. It is paralyzing, Lady Queen, to have nothing to do but think."
"And what have you been thinking, Thiel?"
"That if you would let me come back to your tower, Lady Queen, I would endeavor to serve you better."
"Thiel," she said quietly, "you helped us escape, didn't you? You gave my mother a knife. We wouldn't have gotten away if you hadn't; she needed that knife. And you distracted Leck while we ran."
Thiel sat huddled within himself, not speaking. "Yes," he finally whispered.
"It breaks my heart sometimes," Bitterblue said, "the things I can't remember. I don't remember that the two of you were such friends. I don't remember how important you were to us. I only remember flashes of moments when he took you both downstairs to punish you together. It's not fair, that I don't remember your kindness."
Thiel let out a long breath. "Lady Queen," he said, "one of Leck's cruelest legacies is that he left us unable to remember some things and unable to forget others. We are not masters of our minds."
After a moment, she said, "I would like you to come back tomorrow."
He looked at her with hope growing in his face.
"Runnemood's dead," she said. "That chapter is over, but the mystery is not solved, for my truthseeking friends in the city are still being targeted. I don't know how it'll be between us, Thiel. I don't know how we'll learn to trust each other again,