the last few days than any man she’d met in her time under Duke Eldaminse. But Tamas had to be stopped.
She did the lower officers’ laundry first, after everyone had gone to bed. She went about her routine as usual, scrubbing and boiling and ironing, and then returning uniforms to their owners’ rooms. She waited to fetch the field marshal’s clothes till last. She always did. They were given special attention.
The hallway to the field marshal’s office had four guards. They recognized her now. Nila even knew a few by name. Since Olem had begun courting her, no one’s eyes lingered nor did anyone say anything untoward. They let her pass without comment, but it worried her that Olem wasn’t there. What if he was inside?
The field marshal’s rooms were dark. She made her way by feel and memory, and by a sliver of moonlight coming in through the balcony windows. She satisfied herself that Olem was not anywhere in the darkness, and came up beside the field marshal. He snored softly, sleeping on his back on his cot. Nila drew a hidden dagger from her sleeve and paused.
Field Marshal Tamas’s brow and cheeks were covered in sweat. He muttered something and shifted.
She lifted her knife.
“Erika!” Tamas started in his sleep.
Nila froze. He settled back down to his cot, still deep in sleep. She took several breaths to steady her hand.
“Nila,” someone whispered.
Nila closed her eyes. The door to the office opened a crack. “Nila,” the voice whispered again. It was Olem.
She returned the knife to her sleeve and took the field marshal’s uniform from where it hung over a chair. She slipped out the door. She would find out what Olem wanted and be rid of him. She still had to wash and return the clothing. There’d be another opportunity then.
Olem waited for her in the hallway. The other guards pretended not to notice as he took her hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek. His lips were warm.
“Thought I’d missed you,” he said, walking with her down the hall.
“No.” She forced a welcoming smile on her face.
He linked arms with her. “I’m glad,” he said. “I don’t get much time off. With my Knack and all, the field marshal likes me to put in extra hours.”
“Of course.” She paused. “You should take more time for yourself.”
“I would like to. But only to be with you.”
That wouldn’t do at all.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure about what?”
“That you want to be with me?” She stopped and slipped her arm out of his. “Why do you come to me, Olem? I’m not a good prospect. I’ve no family or connections, and you’ve not tried to force yourself on me. I don’t understand you.”
The corner of Olem’s mouth lifted. “When the time’s right, I won’t have to force you.”
She smacked his shoulder, her cheeks flushing despite herself.
He laughed. “Come here,” he said. “I want to show you something.” He took her arm again and led her down a side hallway. “You know,” he said, “I wondered about you after you disappeared from the Eldaminse townhouse.”
“You did?”
“I wondered especially when we couldn’t find the Eldaminse boy.”
Nila tripped, and would have fallen if Olem didn’t have her arm. Her heart began to hammer in her chest.
Olem continued, “Then I saw you at the barricades. I couldn’t get to you. I couldn’t leave the field marshal in the chaos of things, but I asked the men not to hurt you when they fetched the boy.”
Nila felt her whole body shaking. Olem knew. He’d known all along that she was a royalist. Why had it taken him so long to call her out? Why wasn’t she leaning over a headsman’s block instead of strolling down the hall with him?
Olem stopped beside a soldier at a door at the end of one hall. The soldier saluted him, and he acknowledged by touching a finger to his forehead. The soldier opened the door for them.
Here it was, Nila thought. She was about to be put under guard. Hidden away until the next round of beheadings. Would they send her straight to Sabletooth? She still had her knife. She could attack Olem… but he’d expect that. She’d wait until he was gone and another guard had taken his place.
The room was dark except for a single lantern on a table by a window. It didn’t look like a prison cell. There was a bed, a writing desk, and a divan. An old woman dressed in servant’s clothes snoozed in