36. Traitor on the Roof

13th of Dema

The hallway was empty. 

I stood perfectly still in the middle of the hallway carpet and tried to think like Arramy. The fact that Enrys was still out front probably meant he hadn't gone that way. Which left the back. The delivery entrance? There had to be one, but he would have had to get all the way down to the kitchens without being seen by the staff, and who knew where Braeton was. Something told me he wouldn't go that way. So... up. 

A quick glance around and I saw what I was looking for. I took off running, my footfalls muffled by thick Meirsadduan rug as I sprinted for the entrance to the servant's stairway at the end of the hall. Instead of descending, I headed to the right, up and around the spiral stairs, my heart thundering, a thousand possibilities clamoring through my head. What if he's coming back down? What if he didn't go up at all and I'm running the wrong direction? What will I say if he catches me? I am gadding about in my nightclothes with my real face uncovered – what will I say if someone else catches me? How will I convince him to stay if he's trying to leave?... Should I? 

I passed a landing that opened into what looked like a storage attic, and then, one turn of the staircase later, the stairs ended abruptly at a metal door. The roof access. I hesitated, wiped my palms on my nightdress, then wrapped my fingers around the latch. It moved easily enough. I took a breath, steadying my hand. Slowly, carefully, I inched the lever downward, wincing as the bolt let out a squeak when it retracted into the door. 

What if he's standing right there? 

Breathless, I waited for some sign, an angry shout, a sudden yank on the door, anything, but there was only the faint whistle of a breeze rushing through the crack as I pushed the door open til I could peer out. All that was visible at first was a sliver of dawn-gilded sky, and the tar-and-tile of the roof's maintenance platform. Another inch, and the city air came gusting full in my face, bringing the scent of wood smoke and frying breakfast pastry from the kitchen chimneys. Another inch, and I could see that there wasn't anyone standing within sight of the access door.

I've made a mistake. He's going to get into a fight with Braeton, and everything is going to go up in —

The sound of something landing on a solid surface had me dragging in a frantic breath, my pulse leaping like a frightened rabbit. 

Light footsteps followed, then a voice with an adolescent quaver: "I'd have been here sooner, but there's eyes on the hotel. I assume that's why you wanted to meet on the roof. You having difficulties, Captain?"

Arramy's deep, raspy, "Something of the sort," hit like a sledgehammer, and I clamped my hands over my mouth to muffle a gasp. 

"Aye, well, his Lordship the High General is sniffing around for more information. He's not impressed with your performance thus far." 

"Thank you, Fygan, I'm well aware. You can tell him they're making a move tomorrow. I'll give him more when I've got more."

I swallowed around a sticky lump in my throat and kept listening, straining to hear what was going on. 

There was a faint 'clink,' as if a moneybag had just changed hands. "Pleasure doing business with you, sir," the boy said, tone cocky. 

Arramy's voice was rough, now. "How is he?" 

"I dunno, Captain, he wasn't exactly in a talkative mood." 

Those light footsteps sounded again, interrupted by Arramy's gruff, "There's an extra mark for you if you give him this." 

More footsteps – the boy coming back – a pause, then away quick. 

I didn't wait for Arramy to start for the roof access. I turned and ran, taking the steps downward as fast and as quietly as I could, my head reeling. Two minutes later I skittered through the hotel suite doors, dashing like mad past Longwater and into my bedroom. I shut my door behind me. Then I locked it and stared at the latch, lungs heaving as I backed away. If he wanted to, Arramy could kick the door in. Or pick the lock. I had just shut myself up in a box, my only defense the appearance of ignorance, and the slight possibility that I had managed to beat Arramy down the hallway. If he knew where I had just been — 

A familiar stride sounded out in the hallway, approaching the doors to the suite. 

I had left them hanging open. 

He had only left them unlocked. 

I swore under my breath and dove for my bed, scrambling into the nest of blankets and pillows as Arramy paused in the suite doorway. Then he entered the sitting room. Slowly. As if he were looking for something. 

I dragged the blankets up, flung an arm over a pillow, and tried to regulate my breathing while the thunder of my own heartbeat nearly drowned out the stealthy thump of big boots on polished wood and carpet. 

He was through the sitting area, and for an instant I thought he might just slip into his room. Then he stopped. And turned. 

No. No no no no no no no... I buried my face in a pillow, tears seeping into the satin cover. 

He walked around the couch. Then he was there, in front of my door. 

One long string of curses poured through my brain as the delicate rattle of the latch announced that he was trying the pull. 

I squeezed my eyes shut. Willed every muscle to relax. To mimic sleep. 

Silence fell, suffocating. Thick. 

Then, finally, the soft scuff of a boot sole on carpet: Arramy was moving through the sitting room again. His door closed a moment later. 

I rolled over and let out every last ounce of breath I had been holding. 

~~~

The glow beyond the velvet drapes became gradually brighter and brighter as I paced up and down the length of my hotel room. Thirty steps one way, thirty steps the other, then an anxious glance at the door. Where was Braeton? What was taking so long? Should I go out and see if I could find him? What if Arramy heard me? 

My stomach churned. Every second I had ever spent with Arramy was speeding through my head, cast in a new, sickening light. All of it, even losing Raggan and his men in Nimkoruguithu, had apparently been to get himself to this place, close to Braeton. We had been foolish to think we could use him. He had been the one playing with us the entire time. Spying on us. Spying on me. 

And I had wanted him to kiss me. 

That thought brought bile surging up my throat, and I had to rush for my on-suite bathing room, ribs heaving.

Braeton still hadn't returned when I trudged back out into my room. I came to a stop in the middle of the floor and took a deep breath. The cleaning staff would be arriving shortly. I needed to put Pretty Pendar back on. Then I was going to have to act like nothing was wrong until I was able to talk to Braeton. 

Brilliant.