Swinging my gaze forward again, I barely stopped myself from breaking into a sprint.

Disappearing around the corner, I blew out a strained breath, trying to tame my frantic heartbeat. I felt like I was living on borrowed time. No one would ever learn Romain's secret from me. It wasn't Romain I was doing this for, it was Dolcie and her unborn child.

Even though the Servants' Quarters were warm and my jacket toasty, a chill had wormed its way inside my bones. It had more to do with Romain's threat to cast me out of his House, perhaps remove me permanently, than the temperature of the house. I crossed my forearms over my chest and briskly rubbed my arms.

The corridors were boisterous and busy with servants flowing in and out of the Servants' Hall. I entered our dining room and slanted my gaze sideways to see if I could spot my aunt and couldn't find her. She'd probably eaten and left already.

Collecting a plastic tray and perching a plate, cutlery, and tin mug on its nicked surface, I joined the long line of diners and was served a generous portion of shepherd's pie. The savory smell of stewed lamb, carrots, peas, and tomato, topped with a golden crust of potato, wafted from the plate as I turned around, wondering where I could sit.

A hand reached high above the heads of those gathered around the numerous tables, Oswin calling out my name, "Tabitha!" and waving me over to join the table he'd snagged. Weaving through the densely packed room, the loud noise of conversation and clattering silverware assaulting my ears, I slipped into the spare seat beside Beckah.

Removing my jacket, I folded it neatly across the back of my chair and dug into the piping-hot food. My belly was at least comforted with the deliciousness of the pie and helped calm my nerves from the intimidating encounter with Romain. All I had to do was keep my tongue silent, which was easy enough for me.

Oswin sat next to Dolcie who fussed with her hair just as much as she pushed the food around on her plate. Beckah ruled over the conversation. Once again, it was all about the wedding and trying to get her older sister to change her mind about keeping it small and simple. Thankfully, neither she nor Oswin noticed that Dolcie and I couldn't meet each other's eyes. Oswin was on cloud nine, an arm resting on the back of Dolcie's chair. He wore a proud smile that lit up his blue eyes with happiness and permanently rounded his cheeks.

The wedding was a few days away and instead of the banquet hall at the Monarch Towers, which Beckah had wanted, it was going to be held on the estate. Markel had offered to make the wedding cake too.

"What about a proper Hen's night in Ascendria?" Beckah pouted.

Dolcie cringed and shook her head. "I really couldn't." She tucked a brown curl of hair behind her ear, dropping her gaze back down at her plate and using her fork to toy with the mashed potato. She'd hardly eaten anything.

"Come on Tabitha, I'm sure you'd want a girls' night out rather than a few drinks here," Beckah begged with big brown eyes, her hands pressed together as if praying. It was one of the rare occasions we girls and boys could actually go out and party—within reason of course.

Oswin pointed a finger at me while frowning at Beckah. "Nope, not happening. Tabitha's my Best Man, she's attending my Stag party."

Tomorrow night I was heading out with the boys. Aunt Ellena, though not happy about it, had eventually given her approval because she liked Oswin so much and trusted that he'd look out for me.

"Varen Crowther's coming along too," Oswin added, dropping it like a bomb, before taking a swill of water from his tin mug.

The fork filled with stew lowered from my mouth as I wilted with astonishment. "Pardon?"

What the freaking hells?

"He came up to me this morning to offer his congratulations on the engagement...kind of..." Oswin's lips twisted and nose scrunched. "It was a bit hard to tell at first if he meant it or not with that barking tone he has."

"How does Mr. Crowther even know about our engagement?" Dolcie asked slowly.

Beckah reached over and patted her sister's hand like she was an adorable puppy. "Dolcie, your fiancé is an even bigger gossiper than I am. He hasn't stopped crowing about your acceptance since the proposal. By now everyone in the upper ranks will have heard about the upcoming wedding."

"It seems I made quite an impression on Mr. Crowther when I helped him bring down Jurgana's crows." Oswin's chest puffed up with self-importance. "He thanked me for my bravery and this time he even got my name right." He glanced sidelong at Dolcie who still looked as stunned as I did by the news. "Sort of... Oswain is pretty close to Oswin, I guess." He shifted in his seat and placed his mug back on the table. "Anyway, I kept running my mouth off about the stag party because he was making me so nervous. He stood there staring at me all broody and intense and silent and it got so fu—" A generous dose of fear swamped Oswin's eyes when they shot to mine before he cleared his throat and continued. "It got so awkward, it just blurted from me—Would you like to join us? I thought he'd say no, but he didn't. He said he'd join us for a bit and offered to pay for all the drinks."

"He did?" I said, my mouth falling open.

"Yeah, he said it was the least he could do. It was us servants helping him and his warband take on Jurgana, and those who were there, I actually had invited along tomorrow night."

"Please, Oswin, please let me come to your Stag party. Please..." Beckah beseeched, her voice rising to an ear-piercing shrill. "I was there helping too!"

My fingers tightened around my fork. Why that sneaky man. Varen knew I wasn't able to see him for the next few nights. I couldn't quite believe what Varen had done, and yet I could. He was so freaking cunning.

Beckah and Oswin began bickering once more. Beckah wanted in on the Stag party, and Oswin was having a fine time denying her. And even Dolcie spoke up and told Beckah she wasn't being a very good bridesmaid, nor sister, wanting to ditch her quiet evening with girlfriends for Oswin's night in the city.

Without being asked, Oswin reached over and picked up the pitcher to refill Dolcie's mug with water, which she accepted with a weak smile.

All thoughts of tearing into Varen completely evaporated from my mind to see Dolcie's forced smile that left her luminous brown eyes lifeless.

My stomach lurched then sank in disheartenment watching Oswin dote on Dolcie and her abysmal attempt to appear happy in his company. From the outside to Beckah and Oswin, who knew she was going through the early stages of pregnancy, her listlessness made sense. But I knew better. She was heartbroken.

Or was it guilt?

An unbidden and terrifying thought rose to the surface.

What if she hadn't broken it off with Romain like I'd warned her to?

What if she was still seeing Romain behind Oswin's back?

My head jerked her way and Dolcie inadvertently glanced up. I couldn't hide the question swimming in my eyes. The guilt reflected in her gaze shredded right through me. It also boiled my blood in anger. The bloodhound hackled and growled low.

Gods, I couldn't stand it any longer. Not with the way Oswin was smiling at her as if she held his entire world in the clasp of her hands.

Shoving my chair back, I snatched up my jacket and collected my cutlery and tin mug. With a curt goodnight, I made my way through the rowdy hall to scrape the leftovers from my plate into the bin to be later fed to the pigs, and passed everything to the kitchenhand on duty to be washed up. Heading off down the corridor, edging my way around the cluster of servants milling about, I stormed toward the dormitory wing and down the narrower hallway of the female domain.

Before I pushed my bedroom door open I pressed my forehead to the cool wood, closed my eyes, and sucked in a deep cleansing breath, trying to end the anger and wretchedness from squeezing my chest so tight. How the hells was I going to stand beside my best friend at his wedding knowing Dolcie was continuing her affair with Romain?

Inside our bedroom, I found Aunt Ellena sitting in her rocking chair, the wood creaking as she rocked back and forth. Her knitting needles clack-clack-clacking as she worked on what looked like the beginning of a cable-knit jumper.

The last sparks of anger and wretchedness were extinguished when my gaze fell upon my aunt. As the needles flashed in her deft hands, her mouth twitched with a small secretive smile she couldn't contain, a lovely blush brightening her cheeks while she drifted along in her own delightful world of romance.

Happiness bloomed within my chest as cheerful as the daffodil yarn.

I absolutely adored that she was living, really living, and letting Markel into her fiercely guarded heart. My spirits lightened to think that in a week's time, the dark curse would be broken and she'd be free of the thing inside her. And then perhaps there might be another wedding to plan.

Oh my gods, yes!

Aunt Ellena suddenly became aware of the clashing noises filtering in from the hallway—women traipsing to their own bedrooms or chattering amongst themselves as they left for the common room—and glanced up. Startled by my arrival, she jolted, her needles fell to her lap as she clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle the warbling shriek. A moment later, she pressed her hands to her chest as she burst into laughter at herself, her shoulders shuddering. "Oh my goodness, you gave me such a fright."

"Daydreaming about Markel again, Aunt Ellena?" I drawled, shutting the door softly behind me. A peaceful quiet descended within the room once more.

"Oh, hush you," she replied with no bite to her tone. Yet she couldn't meet my eye, staring instead at the sliver of night peeking through a gap between our curtains, as she patted her rosy cheeks to cool the blush.

It had been surprisingly easy to account for my evening disappearances these past few days. I had the excuse of heading off the estate to hunt Ascendria for the perfect wedding gift and my aunt had been whisked away every single night by Markel on a dreamy courtship. In the company of a married couple playing chaperone—because even though they were older proprietary was necessary—Markel had taken my aunt to the opera and a play, a delicious dégustation at one of Ascendria's finest restaurants, and they'd attended an art exhibition of ice sculptures too.

Aunt Ellena plucked up the loose knitting needles from her lap and made quick work on the row she was halfway through. The soles of my clunky shoes sank into soft loops of wool as I strode across the vibrant rug heading to the walnut dresser tucked beside the small table beneath the window. She tugged on the ball of yarn and the wool bobbed beside the rocking chair. My nose twitched as I honed in on the erratic movement. If I were a cat I'd pounce.

Finishing up, she bent low to scoop up the ball of yarn, wrapped the excess length around it, and tucked her knitting carefully into the rattan basket bag down by the side of her rocking chair. She glanced up, rising as she tucked a wild piece of hair behind her ear. "How was your day, Tabitha?"

"Oh, so-so," I replied airily, sliding my wooden spoon from my belt and placing it on the duchess. It was a typical day, long and hard, but filled with my own secretive memories that wouldn't leave me alone. "We're just about finished deep cleaning all the guest bedrooms."

After Varen had disabled my precious Honda City and surreptitiously took me on a date hoping I wouldn't notice, he'd moved from the little girl's frilly princess room I'd originally allocated him, and appropriated the guest bedroom he referred to as 'Chateaux Crappo.' And I pretended not to notice.

The wooden drawer slid open, sticking a bit. I picked out something warm to wear tonight and changed out of my uniform. My aunt hung it up in our closet, placing my comfy work shoes down beside the others on the wire rack, while I tugged on a pair of navy jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and a dove-gray sweater. Undoing my ponytail, I snatched up my tortoiseshell hairbrush from the duchess. Its varnish was worn away in patches and beginning to curl and bubble. Combing the long locks free of tangles, I tied my hair into a loose knot at my nape.

Aunt Ellena was already dressed for our evening of star gazing in a green cardigan, dark brown slacks, and hiking boots. Perched on her bed were our backpacks with everything we needed. Our telescope and camera, journals and maps of the sky, along with a cozy picnic rug for comfort. Kneeling down, I tied up the laces on my hiking boots, watching as Aunt Ellena picked up her red winter coat from the end of our bunk bed and poked her arms through the sleeves. My aunt's complexion held a radiant glow. I swore she was looking younger every day since Mrysst flowed across the lawns and into the mansion healing everyone. The gaunt cheeks were filling out and the weary lines in her heart-shaped face were fading too. She was beginning to look her age of 39, even younger with the way the silver in her hair was harder to spot. And though her body was still too thin, she didn't seem so frail anymore.

Aunt Ellena flicked out her hair from beneath the jacket's collar and it rippled down the front of her jacket in shades of flax. She pulled on a red knitted hat as I rose and straightened. Reaching for my own puffy jacket she held it wide and helped put it on, rounding to face me and do up the zipper like I was seven years old. "It's cold out tonight, Tabitha," she said, smiling and pinching my nose, pretending to steal it, which enticed me to scrunch my nose at her and laugh.

Leaning sideways, she grabbed the pink pompom hat she'd knitted me from the end of her bed. She carefully pulled it onto my head, her fingers brushing my ears as she gently tugged it lower to cover them, before winding the matching scarf around my neck. As for the mittens with their silly string, I gave her a sharp look of hells no, and jerked my hands aside when she tried to put them on me.

"But they're so cute and they match too," she pouted, making her look like a teenager.

"No, Aunt Ellena. Just no."

With a wistful sigh, she tossed the mittens back onto the bed and we both hefted the backpacks onto our shoulders, heading to the bedroom door. The tired metal handle twisted with a squeak as I pulled it open and we abruptly came face to face with Markel, his fist raised as if he were about to rap his knuckles on wood.

His burly physique swamped the threshold. The utilitarian light bleached his silver-tipped hair and spilled over his sturdy shoulders. A sweet smell like a bakery wafted from him. His chef's whites were dusted with icing sugar, cinnamon, and cocoa. "Why, Papa Markel, what a surprise to see you here tonight," I faux-gasped, twisting around, darting a quick look of surprise to my aunt.

Markel's laugh was just as full-bodied and rich as his smile. He leaned a hand against the door frame. "How's my favorite duo of green-eyed blonds tonight?"

The fabric of my jacket wisped as I folded my arms across my chest, popping out a hip. "It's strictly a girl's only night, Markel. Sorry, but I cannot give you permission to take my aunt out for the evening."

My aunt nudged my shoulder with her own, making me sway and widen my stance. Her cheeks were positively scarlet. "Tabitha," she whisper-hissed, fussing with her hair sweeping across her forehead.

Markel's smile didn't falter. He raised a hand and hanging off his scarred fingertips was a small picnic basket. "That I do know, Miss Catt," he said with a quirk of a bushy eyebrow. "It's astronomy evening. I thought you two might want a coffee to keep you warm and something to tide you over." He stared directly at Aunt Ellena, smiling through the words the entire time.

"How thoughtful," replied my aunt, her eyes sparkling like emeralds. Not for the treats inside the basket, but because Markel once again was being so charming and attentive. She took the basket from him and when their fingers brushed up against one another, I saw the widening of eyelashes and the way the veins in her neck corded as if her breath tightened in her throat.

The air practically hummed with tension—fizz, crackle, zing.