it in his pocket, and rushed out of the room. He returned to his bedchamber, nudged the door shut, and pressed his back against the wood. His heart pounded.
He’d done it. Just like that. It had been so easy. The Master had told the truth, no one had stopped him. He was not going to question whatever good luck had suddenly befallen him.
Ward slipped the locket in the case with his illegal surgical implements, stuffed it in the bottom of his rucksack, and slid the bag under the bed, still stunned at how easily he’d stolen it.
One theft down, one to go , repeated through his mind. He could do it. He was already doing it, and the sooner he finished, the sooner he and Celia could get out of here. Next mission: Allette.
He threw open his door, framing Allette in the doorway.
Ward jumped. How did she know he wanted to talk to her?
“We need to talk,” she said.
“Ah…yes.” About where Macerio kept his grimoire and, more importantly, why she’d lied about his identity. He glanced back at his room. He didn’t like the idea of inviting her in, but their conversation definitely required privacy. “Come in?”
She pursed her lips. “It’s not proper for a lady to enter a man’s bedchamber.”
“No one will know, and I’d rather not talk in the hall.”
“I was thinking Macerio’s public library. It’s just down the hall, and no one goes in it.”
“You’re sure we won’t be interrupted?”
“It would be just as bad for me if we were. It’s safe and then no one can catch me coming out of your room.”
“All right.”
Allette led him to a large room filled with books. More windows, with heavy drapes partially pulled open, lined the back wall. Save for a hearth against the left wall, the rest of the walls held floor-to-ceiling shelves.
Allette gestured to the room. “Macerio’s public library.”
And most likely not where Macerio kept his grimoire, but this could be Ward’s opening. “So he has a private library as well?”
“Yes. In the east wing. Where he keeps his darkest, most powerful books.” She perched on the edge of a red couch in the center of the room. It made up one half of a conversation area consisting of a high-backed chair and a dark wood table. Her blond curls, artfully free from the intricately braided pile atop her head, accentuated her wide face, as if she purposely drew attention to her peasant heritage. She picked at the skirt of her light pink day-dress, her wide eyes downcast. “He’ll only let those he’s accepted into his household see them. Servant, pet, or apprentice-hopeful.”
“I thought he already had accepted me.” Just what he wanted to know. Today was a good luck day all around. Now all he needed was to find the private library in the east wing and learn why Allette had lied.
He sat in the chair and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Birds fluttered and chattered in the bushes and ivy outside the open windows. If he closed his eyes, everything would seem normal. But he didn’t bother. Once he opened them again, he’d be back in this nightmare.
It was a nightmare of his own choosing, but that didn’t make it any less of a nightmare. He could have ignored his family responsibility and carried on with Celia to Gyja, but if there was only one thing he knew about himself, it was that he couldn’t turn his back on his responsibilities. Which meant he needed to get down to business, and there was only one way to ask what he needed to know. “Why did you lie?”
“I saw something in you that I needed. I’m sorry, I really am, but I need your help.”
“You could have asked.”
Determination hardened her eyes. “Would you have accepted?”
Two weeks ago…without a doubt. Now? “I’m not sure.”
While his heart wanted to help her, her plea was too similar to Celia’s the night he’d woken her from the dead, and unless she called on his Physician’s Oath like Celia had, she wasn’t his responsibility. Stopping Macerio was.
“An honest