Manon almost struck her—almost went for her throat. But the girl was watching, listening. So Manon grabbed Elide by the arm and yanked her toward the door.
Elide kept her mouth shut as Manon led her down the stairs. She didn’t ask how the Wing Leader knew where her room was.
She wondered if Manon would kill her once they reached it.
Wondered if she’d beg and grovel for mercy when the time came.
But after a while, the witch said, “If you try to bribe anyone here, they’ll just turn you in. Save the money for when you run.”
Elide hid the shaking in her hands and nodded.
The witch gave her a sidelong glance, her golden eyes shimmering in the torchlight. “Where the hell would you have run to, anyway? There’s nothing within a hundred miles. The only way you would stand a chance is if you got on the …” Manon snorted. “The supply wagons.”
Elide’s heart sank. “Please—please don’t tell Vernon.”
“Don’t you think if Vernon wanted to use you like that, he’d have done it already? And why make you play servant?”
“I don’t know. He likes games; he might be waiting for one of you to confirm what I am.”
Manon fell silent again—until they rounded a corner.
Elide’s stomach dropped down to her feet when she beheld who stood in front of her door as if she’d summoned him by mere thought.
Vernon was wearing his usual vibrant tunic—today a Terrasen green—and his brows rose at the sight of Manon and Elide.
“What are you doing here?” Manon snapped, coming to a stop in front of Elide’s little door.
Vernon smiled. “Visiting my beloved niece, of course.”
Though Vernon was taller, Manon seemed to look down her nose at him, seemed bigger than him as she kept her grip on Elide’s arm and said, “For what purpose?”
“I was hoping to see how you two were getting along,” her uncle purred. “But …” He looked at the hand Manon had around Elide’s wrist. And the door beyond them. “It seems I needn’t have worried.”
It took Elide longer to catch it than Manon, who bared her teeth and said, “I’m not in the habit of forcing my servants.”
“Only slaughtering men like pigs, correct?”
“Their deaths equate to their behavior in life,” Manon replied with a kind of calm that made Elide wonder whether she should start running.
Vernon let out a low laugh. He was so unlike her father, who had been warm and handsome and broad-shouldered—a year past thirty when he was executed by the king. Her uncle had watched that execution and smiled. And then come to tell her all about it.
“Allying yourself with the witches?” Vernon asked Elide. “How ruthless of you.”
Elide lowered her eyes to the ground. “There is nothing to ally against, Uncle.”
“Perhaps I kept you too sheltered for all those years, if you believe that’s so.”
Manon cocked her head. “Say your piece and be gone.”
“Careful, Wing Leader,” Vernon said. “You know precisely where your power ends.”
Manon shrugged. “I also know precisely where to bite.”
Vernon grinned and bit the air in front of him. His amusement honed itself into something ugly as he turned to Elide. “I wanted to check on you. I know how hard today was.”
Her heart stopped. Had someone told him about the conversation in the kitchens? Had there been a spy in the tower just now?
“Why would it be hard for her, human?” Manon’s stare was as cold as iron.