room.
‘Anything would be better than sleeping in the dust, my Lord, or on stinking ship bunks,’ she said, shivering for good measure.
For once, Dizali was sincere. The room was humongous; loaded with plush furniture, draped in silks and gold leaf. Every inch of it screamed luxury. An immense four-poster bed stood in the centre. Blue curtains reached from the carpeted floor right up to the roof, where cherubs filled the cornicing and surrounded a small chandelier hanging over the foot of the bed. It was a stark contrast to the rest of Clovenhall.
‘This will do nicely, Lord Dizali. Thank you!’
Maybe spending time in the mouth of the beast came with some perks. Merion would be jealous .
Dizali nodded, turning his gaze to Calidae’s old skirt and borrowed cloak. ‘There are clothes that may fit you in the dressers. Dinner is at six. You may read in the library until then.’
Calidae cocked her head to one side. ‘And will your house-guest be joining us?’
Dizali wrinkled his nose. ‘He will not. He’ll be firmly in his rooms where he belongs.’
‘Intriguing.’
The Lord Protector decided that was enough talk for one day and made for the door. He paused halfway under its frame, fingers tapping on the handle. ‘I assume I do not need to remind you, Lady Serped, of the need for confidentiality.’
Calidae gave him her most earnest look. ‘Of course not, my Lord.’
‘Because we have a war to fight, both silently and openly. There are supporters of our cause, and there are traitors to it. The line is thin, often crossed with barely a whisper. I trust you will be a firm supporter, Calidae, and give us the help we need. You will, as you so rightly said, do your father’s memory proud.’
‘Of course, my Lord.’
‘Good,’ said Dizali, and closed the door behind him.
Calidae clenched her fists so hard her knuckles popped. She paced in a tight circle, panting long and hard to quell her indignation. Dizali might as well have painted the words Slickharbour Spit across the walls. Her estate for his war effort. Her father would have been turning in his grave had he not been ash on the wind.
As Calidae stormed about, glaring at paintings and gilded windows, she caught her reflection in a silver mirror, perched on a nightstand. She slowly stepped toward it, eyes studying the patches of bare skin that poked through her hair, now finally growing again. As she examined herself, her anger was forgotten, and she thought only of the game she now played, and how she would see it to the end. No matter the cost, a winner is always a winner.
She stared at the whorl of her ear and cheek, noting how it wrinkled. She smiled.
‘I am a Serped.’
*
‘You believe her?’ Hanister asked, standing straight and tall at the end of the corridor, arms folded behind his back. Dizali glared at the man as he swept past him. He was no Gavisham, and it irked him deeply.
‘My Lord?’ Hanister added, as he leapt to catch up.
Dizali spoke low and quiet. ‘She is either a very accomplished liar, or she is telling the truth and has only loyal intentions.’
Hanister mulled that over. Like Dizali, he couldn’t seem to decide. ‘She is a lamprey, after all,’ he said.
‘And therefore should have no reason to lie,’ said Dizali.
There was something perplexing about the Serped girl. Perhaps it was her tenacity. Maybe some of the fire that had scorched her had crept into her bones. She certainly seemed fearless enough; most people quailed when he asked them a question. This fourteen-year-old girl had barely batted an eyelid. ‘In any case, I still want her watched. And you ,’ he poked Hanister sharply in the arm, ‘will be the one watching her. I want her under close supervision. Even here in the house.’
‘As you wish, my Lord.’
‘And I want Rolick put on guard duty at Harker Sheer with a few of his men. Just in case the boy is also on his way back. It’ll be the first place he goes. Hark will not be able to
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