“That felt like hell,” she rasped, her eyes opening.
I hugged her to me gently, running kisses over her brow. “That was quick thinking.”
“Well, I wasn’t having any luck with my knife.” She pulled back from me slightly, the color returning to her cheeks. “As much as I’d like to continue this, we need to get moving.”
“Do you feel all right?”
She nodded, rising slowly to her feet and shaking out her skirts. “The pain has mostly faded. Once the vines died, it started to go.”
I inspected her for any wounds but saw none. “Ready?”
“Lead on.”
We headed down the path, our guard up and our movements silent. Finally, we reached the back of the house, an impressive three-story structure covered with rose vines. There were two doors to choose from, and I went for the smaller one that looked like the servants’ entrance.
The door opened silently, and I entered a dimly lit kitchen that made me grateful for the twenty-first century. The drab room
was lit by a large fire, the heat oppressive. The scent of cured meat permeated the place.
A woman in a simple dress, who’d been stoking the fire, turned as I entered. Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her chest. “Who are you?”
“Calm yourself, madam, and sit in that chair.” I imbued my voice with my power and pointed to the small wooden chair by the fire.
Her eyes went foggy, thank fates, and she drifted over to the chair.
At my side, Carrow whispered. “Is this really the kitchen?”
“Archaic, I know.” I strode to the woman, crouching down in front of her. “Is Councilor Rasla’s daughter here?”
“Who?” Confusion flickered in her voice. “He has no daughter.”
“Tell me the truth,” I commanded, making sure that her eyes blurred and that my power was working on her.
“It is the truth, my lord. Just him. Always has been.”
I shared a look with Carrow. Between the housekeeper and this maid, I knew who I believed. Rasla’s magic had worked on her, it seemed, and her memories were gone.
“Is there anyone else in the house?” I asked. “Another maid, perhaps?”
“No one. Not now.”
That would make things easier. “Stay here for an hour, then return to your duties. Forget you ever saw us.”
She nodded slowly, settling back against the chair to wait. I stood. Carrow was already moving toward the door, heading into the rest of the house. I followed, loathing the cramped, dark interior. Even the nicest, largest houses in this period had low ceilings and heavy architecture. My tower wasn’t much different, but it had been modified to suit me and the changing times.
We entered a sitting room at the front of the house. Glittering mullioned windows provided a partial view of the street outside, but not enough light to brighten the dark wood and thick fabrics that covered the furniture. The fireplace lay cold and silent.
Carrow walked around the room, running her hands over the furniture and paintings, the lavender scent of her magic trailing behind her.
“I’m not getting much,” she said. “Mostly images of Rasla.”
She closed her eyes, her magic flaring brighter. I tasted oranges and salt, a lovely combination. Her face flushed as she tried harder to access the information she wanted.
Finally, she opened her eyes. “The daughter was here, but rarely came into this room. Let’s check upstairs.”
We passed through another small reception room and a dining room. Carrow ignored them, heading straight for the stairs. Though there were several bedrooms on the next floor—all of them as dark and dreary as the living room—none seemed like our target. One most definitely belonged to Rasla, from the look of the large bed and filled wardrobe.
“Next floor,” Carrow said.