I watched the Horned God talking to Romain as they walked side by side, and perhaps Master Sirro was giving his farewell because they parted ways. He inclined his head before he turned away and strode along the pebbled path which would take him close to where I stood beneath the boughs of a tree growing within clusters of bushy flaxes.

Master Sirro continued to skirt around the mansion as if heading to the front entrance, where no doubt, his car and driver awaited him.

Master Sirro hadn't noticed me. Thank freaking gods.

I slowly edged back to shrink further into the foliage, hoping the long waxy leaves of the flax would hide me.

Master Sirro was tall, but he wasn't broad and built like Varen. He was more streamlined. He looked just as refreshed as I'd seen him last night, though a little more disheveled but just as charming. The first rays of morning began to peak over the horizon in soft buttery colors as he strolled closer and closer and closer.

My rapid heartbeat thundered in my ears. I desperately tried to breathe quietly but it sounded like a rasping saw.

I prayed to Skalki that he wouldn't sense me.

But he had...he had sensed me when he'd first arrived at the Servants' Dance. He'd stopped walking as if there was something he was uneasy about but couldn't trace.

The dark magic that resided inside me pricked its ears and grew curious, as if like sang to like. Its senses started to swirl out and head straight toward the Horned God, and in terror, I barked at it to—hide, hide, hide!

With a reluctant huff, it obeyed, withdrew its senses, and buried itself deep down inside me.

The sound of footsteps crunching through small stones...stopped.

Master Sirro came to an abrupt halt. His Familiar too.

All the fine hair on my body rose.

My breath clenched tight in my throat.

The Horned God slowly angled his head to the side, thick eyebrows nudging together, body locked and rigid as if all his senses were feeling something out.

Suddenly—

Dark power exploded—

A nightmare of roiling silvery strands blew upward and outward, wavering through the air like thick plumes of smoke.

I almost shrieked in fright. My entire being went into shock as if I'd plunged through a thin layer of ice into heart-stopping frigid water. The hand holding the hot mug trembled and hot coffee splashed across my fingers and ran down my palm.

Master Sirro swiveled around in one fast, purposeful direction. He faced me dead-on. His golden eyes darkened to a rusty bronze and fixed on me like the deadly edge of a blade.

As our gazes locked a strange mixture of feelings washed across his handsome face: shock, astonishment, and something dark that I could neither understand nor read. His coppery skin paled as he continued to stare unblinking like a reptile.

He broke into motion.

His Familiar, like his shadow, mirrored his footsteps as he strode straight for me.

It was a direct line of intent.

Me.

He was after me.

My mind pathetically scrambled for an innocent reason why he'd want to speak with me. Perhaps the Horned God just needed some assistance from a servant. Maybe he wanted me to run back to Mr. Deniaud with a message.

In pure panic, I glanced furtively around. I didn't know what to do. Didn't know if I should run. Didn't know if I should even try to run. And in truth, there was no freaking way I could. Not with Master Sirro stalking straight toward me.

I went to bow—

His power slashed out faster than a striking snake.

I wheezed as the air was punched from my lungs. I flew backward, the tartan blanket falling away, the coffee cup too. My back slammed against a knotted tree trunk. Hot, searing pain sliced down my spine. Small, serrated leaves in autumnal hues rained down all around me. I struggled to suck in a breath of moist earthy air as thrumming, lethal power slithered around my body, tightening and vibrating against my skin. Ancient dark magic tasted my flesh, licking and nipping and prodding as it tried to figure out what I was.

The Horned God reached me.

His hand snapped upward, cold fingers wrapped around my throat, and I let out a squeak of panic. He stepped closer so there was barely any space between us. His eyes narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring as he drew in my scent. He bared sharp, white teeth as an unearthly growl like an otherworldly beast rumbled from his throat.

I choked back the scream that bubbled up my throat.

Undiluted terror obliterated my mind into chaos. I was terrified Master Sirro was going to discover I was other. Terrified that he was going to end me and demand the life of my aunt as well.

Dark bronze eyes intently scanned my face as if he were cataloging every detail, every single freckle that marred my cheeks and nose. The length of my nose and across my wide full lips, along the curves of my heart-shaped face, my brow, and arch of golden eyebrows...until they settled back on my eyes.

Holy. Freaking. Hellsgate!

Somehow I managed to hold the intense gaze of a Horned God and not fall into a blathering quaking mess.

Part of me thought it wasn't a good idea to stare. The rest of me knew I had no choice.

Thick dark lashes framed eyes that curved slightly upward. I noted the straight nose and straight, sharp teeth. The elegant planes of cheekbones and the neatly trimmed beard. Deadly and beautiful. Enticing and charming...well usually charming.

My heart jackhammered in my chest as we stared at one another, the moment drawing out, longer and longer and longer, until finally his hold on my throat loosened and his whole demeanor softened. The color of his eyes lightened to honeyed amber.

He let go, only to gently, almost tenderly, draw the locks of hair that had fallen across my face and tuck them behind an ear, a small smile on his lips. His touch was icy cold and I stifled the shiver that wanted to rattle through my shoulders.

"Who are you?" he asked, his brows drawing over his rich amber eyes. His voice was soft yet demanding.

"Tabitha Catt," I answered quickly, completely falling apart with frazzled nerves. And, curse it all, I did the same thing I had done with Varen. I couldn't stop the ridiculousness from spilling from my mouth. "I'm a Between Maid," I hastily told him, and I carried on rambling, this time much faster, the words almost stringing together as one. I told him about my job and who I worked under. I went on to explain how proud I was to be given my role at such a young age and the responsibilities that came with it, and that perhaps my exacting high standards and expectations from my team was why the other servants referred to me as the Uptight Spinster, not just because I wasn't married. And, as I was sharing my techniques about polishing and the best way to tackle dusting the intricate lighting in high places with a feather duster that could be angled just slightly to get up and around the crystal, Master Sirro broke out into a loud, delighted laugh that shook his entire body.

And it shut me up.

His chuckling finally subsided, and he looked much more relaxed as he spoke my name. It alighted from his lips as if he should know it, and perhaps he did. "Tabitha Catt." He tilted his head to the side with a curious look. "You lost your mother when you were a child."

I nodded. My tongue was thick and swollen from talking too much with a dry mouth.

Master Sirro did know me. I expect my story had been wide-swept across the Houses. But it was surprising that he remembered something from so long ago and about someone of so little consequence—a mere servant.

"Remind me again—who were your parents?" he asked, shifting his weight.

"My mother was Asta, and my father, Jasper Catt, died before I was born. He was a footsoldier for Lower House Malan." One of the few things I did know about him, as my aunt didn't like to talk about him very much.

Master Sirro's gaze glided over my face and became thoughtful, and introspective, a curious nudge to his eyebrows. I remained still as death, barely breathing as he gently traced a single finger down the bridge of my nose to my lips. The tip of his finger tugged at the soft flesh of my bottom lip as he continued downward to then pinch my chin with a thumb and forefinger. He tipped my head this way and that, staring at me.

This time, I allowed my eyes to slide sideways to hide from his intense golden eyes.

I almost flinched.

Master Sirro was so wrapped up in trying to figure me out, he didn't realize my aunt was standing near the mansion, swaying gently like a branch caught in a breeze as she stared unblinkingly right at him.

Fear wrapped itself around me tighter than the Horned God's dark magic. I was terrified Aunt Ellena might try to intercede and feel the full wrath of his might.

It was a split second later that I realized that my aunt wasn't quite herself.

Her features were slack and her limbs were lax, hanging limply by her sides. Her head was cocked and her green eyes had pinprick pupils. It wasn't my aunt—it was that thing.

As Master Sirro's entire focus was honed on me, his power, those silvery strands that rippled around shrubs and trees and poked through the leafy canopy to stroke the sky, also spread out behind the Horned God. Threads of power whorled and whirled and, as if curious, began to stretch outward to where Aunt Ellena stood. A single shimmering strand crept toward my aunt.

It happened fast. So fast that I could barely take in the details.

My aunt's hand whipped outward. Her hand wasn't human—it was a black-tipped talon. She slashed and severed Master Sirro's power, a singular strand right in half. Snatching the silver thread from the air, now with human fingers, she shoved the dark magic into her mouth and chewed with thin razor teeth to swallow the magic down with a big gulp that bobbed her throat.

Aunt Ellena's eyes suddenly glowed like quicksilver, just before they returned to green.

I'd never witnessed anything like it before.

And when the Horned God suddenly realized something wasn't right, or perhaps felt what she'd done, too late, far too late, his head snapped to the side. His amber eyes narrowed as his gaze shot to the very spot my aunt once stood.

The spot was now empty because my aunt was gone.

He stormed away from me.

His dark magic violently roiled like a tempest of fury and exploded outward, stabbing and poking and probing the garden and space by the mansion.

Thrumming tremors rocked the earth and rattled glass windows.

Immense power hummed like a powerline and my hair began to slowly rise around my head.

He turned a full circle, his taut body dark with menace. Fisting his hands, he loosened a loud deadly snarl of frustration that split apart the air, hollowed my ears, and vibrated through my bones. I would have fallen to the ground and cowered in mind-crushing terror, except I couldn't. His power still bound me to the tree.

Finally, Master Sirro's furious gaze returned to mine, his wrathful expression faltered as he blinked, realizing that he still had his magic pinning me in place. He released me and let go of the last remains of his rage. The strands of magic drifted away as he took a step closer to my trembling figure with concern. "My apologies, Miss Catt," he said, a hand splayed across the lapels of his navy suit jacket as he canted his upper body forward.

Shaken, I didn't know what to say, how to respond, why he'd even done all of this in the first place. Thankfully, he hadn't uncovered my truth, that I was other. Nor had he fully sensed and caught my aunt, that thing, stealing from him either.

I bowed and, when I rose, Master Sirro inclined his head with a small smile and strode off. His Familiar followed behind, staring straight ahead with a vacant look on her face, not even glancing my way.

Oh my freaking gods...

I sagged against the tree trunk, sucking in panicked breaths, trying to calm myself. It took a couple of minutes to pull myself together again. Once I did, my mind speared to my aunt. And that thing. Worried for her, I fled into the mansion, heading straight for the Servants' Quarters and to our bedroom.

I burst inside and stumbled to a swaying halt. My aunt sat in her favorite rocking chair, her knitting needles flashing as she neatly wove the creamy thread of wool and knitted—click-clack click-clack.

Surprised at my sudden appearance, she gave me a self-deprecating smile. "I know I'm supposed to be sleeping, but I couldn't resist."

Tugging at the ball of yarn by her feet, she carried on knitting—click-clack click-clack.

Aunt Ellena was back to being herself. But what had happened? That thing had carved off a piece of Master Sirro's power and consumed it. What would that do to my aunt? Or more importantly, what did that thing want with it?

My aunt paused in her knitting, her features twisting with concern. "Are you alright Tabitha?"

I swallowed and nodded, plastering a smile upon my mouth. "I'm fine. I thought I'd get some sleep too." I didn't bother changing out of my clothes. I moved to our bunk, slipped off my shoes, and clambered up the ladder.

"I'll try to knit quietly," she said as I pulled a blanket over my cold, shivering body.

"It's okay," I murmured, lying my head down on my pillow, watching her. Her knitting was one of my favorite sounds, and usually urged me to sleep, but this time I kept my eyes slit as if I were asleep but watched her carefully.

The first rays of sunlight leaked into our bedroom, gilding my aunt's delicate body. She hummed softly as she rocked backward and forwards, the wooden chair creaking as she busily knitted away—click-clack click-clack. She glanced upward, her cheeks rounding with a smile as her eyes met mine as if she knew I was staring at her between almost-closed eyelashes.

Aunt Ellena blinked.

My pulse quickened. Because for once, I wasn't sure if I had seen what I had. For one horrifying heartbeat, I was positive that thing had looked out from behind her eyes. But surely it couldn't, not with the sun rising and light streaming in through the bedroom window.