Chapter 9: Rule One, Off for Tonight

The rogue was dead by morning.

Torin called me from the tower at six, and he didn't say hello.

"They found him in the cell. His neck was broken, and nobody on the floor heard anything."

"Winifred," I said.

"I can't prove it."

"Then I'll find something you can."

"Orla."

"The page that was cut out of the register. She kept the rest of it somewhere. It's in her rooms, Torin, I would bet my valley."

He didn't speak for a long moment.

"She's at the council dinner tonight until ten," he said. "Come to my floor at eight. Use the service stairs."

"That breaks my second term."

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm choosing it."

I put on my own jeans and the lilac sweater, and I took the stairs.

It was thirty-nine floors of stairs, and I had never climbed them.

He was waiting on the landing outside his study with the door open behind him.

The light in the room was low, and he had shed his jacket, and he stood with both hands held stiffly at his sides.

"Her rooms are one floor up," he said. "The key is in my desk. I'll get it."

I walked past him into the study.

I put my back against his desk, and I looked at him.

"Close the door."

He closed it.

I had thought about this for four years, and in four years I had never once said what I wanted.

"Rule one," I said. "I'm taking it off. For tonight."

Torin did not move.

"Say it again."

"I want you to touch me."

His breath left him in one hard rush.

He crossed the room in three strides, and then he stopped a hand's width away and looked down at me with his eyes gone gold.

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