I still kept my nights at the castle, so as not to arouse the party's suspicion. But of course, the fa?ade couldn’t st forever.

  Rocher intercepted me one morning, dabbing his neck with a towel. Steam wafted off his colr.

  "Cire, where are you going every morning?" He hesitated. "I miss you, you know. Evie and Sera too."

  I studied his expression, searching for a hidden motive.

  It was true that I hadn't seen them as much tely. The shifts at the manor ran twelve hours or longer; we only ever crossed paths on the way to the bath, exchanging pleasantries.

  But still, I wrote Lumiere every day. That brought me some small measure of connection. Though I had been reluctant to let her go, the Duke was to be an important ally in her quest ter—it was important to keep good retions.

  Noticing my stare, Rocher's eyes shifted away.

  I sighed. If he was already suspicious, it was easier to be honest.

  "I've taken up work at the Huerta estate."

  He frowned. "May I ask why?"

  "Extra coin. I know what you said earlier, but I don't want to be in your debt, Mister Rocher."

  It was the excuse I'd prepared. He had picked up the bill for all the clothes we bought the other day, saying it wasn't part of my punishment to go into debt. As an apology for his rashness, he'd even payed for the Thieves' Guild contract.

  I knew he could afford it, but I wielded my stubbornness like a weapon.

  "...Is it so hard to let me do nice things for you, Cire?"

  He looked so crestfallen. Guilt pricked through my chest, and I brushed a hand against his cheek.

  "It's not that. It's just I recently learned of my blind spot, and the wound is still sore—I want to understand the value of money."

  In there was a kernel of truth. As a nun, I had worked and eaten for free, never having to learn about how money worked in this world. I thought if I earned an honest day's wage, I could avoid such mistakes going forward.

  He opened his mouth, then bit back his words and stepped aside. I brushed past him, then—feeling a pit in my stomach—turned to give him a small wave goodbye.

  On the walk to the Huerta estate, I practiced my smile, my posture, the careful neutrality of a servant. By the time I reached the manor's polished doors, Cire of the hero party was folded away neatly.

  Cire the maid stepped inside.

  From the outside, Ramón looked every inch the noble knight. But his vanity and lust slipped through in glimpses. He enjoyed the aesthetic of being waited on by pretty women; every so often he would call one to his bedchamber. His maids were no exception.

  He checked in at odd hours, sending the maids' hearts aflutter. To them it looked like their galnt employer was taking responsibility for the well-being of his employees. But I caught the subtle way he licked his lips, the way his eyes scanned them like a butcher appraising meat.

  I learned to stay out of sight whenever he got into those moods. But I couldn't avoid it when he asked for me directly.

  "Hold still, Master," I said, reaching for the csps at his shoulder. He had summoned me to help remove his armor after sparring all day; the leather was damp with sweat, the straps stiff. I braced one hand against his chest to lever the buckle, and pulled.

  "Forgive me," he murmured. "The straps catch when I do it myself."

  "It’s nothing." I shifted to the next csp, careful not to meet his eyes. His breath ghosted the crown of my head. The metal groaned as it came loose.

  When the breastpte finally gave way, it slipped forward and I caught it against my body out of reflex, stumbling. He ughed softly and reached to steady my hands. His calloused fingers lingered over mine; his thumb traced the hollow of my palm. A prickle ran over my scalp, but I quickly smoothed my expression.

  "Efficient as always," he said quietly. "I should have you assist me more often."

  "It’s part of the job," I replied, freeing myself and setting the armor aside. His gaze stayed a heartbeat longer than it should have.

  "Still," he said, voice low, "you have a way of making simple things feel… thrilling."

  I smiled politely, assuming it was fttery.

  The manor's gossip caught the scent before I did. Hattie once winked and said the lord had taken a shine to me; I ughed it off, though the remark clung to me like oil. Ramón's tone had changed, that much was certain. Every favor he asked now carried the weight of invitation.

  In spite of my best effort, I was soon promoted to personal maid.

  Well, now that it'd happened, I decided to make the most of it. The proximity let me study him—his habits and inclinations, probing for any gaps in his armor. I was thankful actually; I hadn't realized how restricted the movements of the regur staff were. Upon promotion, my access to him had increased tenfold.

  But still, his guard was infuriatingly high, his senses impossibly sharp. Even if he was napping, he would stir at the slightest of footfalls in his office, daring the intruder to act.

  One time I'd approached him from behind with a knife in order to cut some apple slices. He spun around in the blink of an eye, catching my wrist so hard that it bruised. Only when he saw the panic in my face did he release me.

  He never apologized, but something in him shifted. From then on, every order came wrapped in my name."Maid Cire… the reports.""Maid Cire… the mail."

  He spoke it like he was tasting something he hadn't expected to like.

  And when he smiled at me for the first time after that, there was a flicker in his eyes—surprise, almost wonder. As though he'd suddenly become aware of how slight I was beneath his hands.

  I pretended not to notice.

  After a few days of searching, I discovered one weakness—indigestion. Because of his hearty diet, he often suffered from heartburn. It was small, but an opening nonetheless.

  "Master, may I make a suggestion?"

  His fancy bck-and-gold pen stopped moving. He looked up from his tiny reading gsses, which sat absurdly small on his broad face.

  "You may."

  "I'm actually training to get my apothecary's license. If you'd like, I could prepare something for your stomach."

  I rattled a bottle of harmless-looking pills. The Huertas' strength rested partly on performance-enhancing drugs; they trained from childhood to tolerate all kinds of strange mixtures. I surmised he would not be turned off by the odd medicine.

  However, Ramón was still guarded. He stared at me for a long moment. Sighing inwardly, I popped one of the pills in my mouth like candy.

  Finally, he nodded and turned back to his paperwork. "Add it to my lunch spread."

  "Yes, Master," I said, smiling.

  Thus, I began stuffing him full of my concoctions, two pills with every meal. He never questioned the dosage. His training only covered common poisons, sedatives, and paralytics—not the effect of ordinary medicines taken in excess.

  To my credit, it did ease his heartburn. He cpped me on the butt once with such delight that hot shame crawled under my ribs. I had half a mind to end him right then and there.

  But no. It had to be slow. Sudden death by poison would only invite suspicion, especially toward the apothecary-in-training in charge of his care. I had to dose him just enough to dull his mind, slow his reflexes. Then, and only then, could I stage the coup de grace... somepce private where I could pnt false evidence of the Thieves' Guild's involvement.

  After ten days, things were changing—slowly, imperceptibly. Shortness of breath. A quickened pulse. A tremor in the hand. He forgot a maid's name once and ughed it off, but I tallied that slip in my notebook and watched it add up.

  My heart panged a bit each time a new symptom appeared, but I stuffed the feeling down. He wasn't supposed to be alive in the first pce—he was a glitch, a simple error I was correcting. The words repeated over and over like a mantra.

  Patience. The decline of his mental faculties wasn't yet at the point that I could make an attempt on his life. I needed to steel myself and see it through, this ugly thing I had started. Evelyn's css advancement depended on it.

  However, I failed to realize he would interpret his symptoms in a different, unexpected way.

  "Maid Cire. I'll require your attendance tonight. Wait for me in my chambers."

  My heart dropped.