Butler Maris continued to regard her with the same composed expression she had worn since the beginning of their acquaintance, although Ivelle had spent enough time around the elderly woman during the past week to recognize that something beneath that calm exterior had changed. There was a faint weariness in her eyes, one that had not been there when Ivelle first arrived at the mansion, and the realization amused her far more than it probably should have.
Apparently, she had finally succeeded in exhausting Butler Maris.
The thought brought a small smile to Ivelle’s lips.
She stood in the lower corridor with one hand resting lightly against her waist, watching Maris as though the elderly woman had just provided her with the most entertaining discovery of the entire week.
"Butler Maris," Ivelle called again, drawing out the name with deliberate sweetness.
Maris did not immediately respond.
Her attention remained upon the paper she held in her hand, although Ivelle noticed the almost imperceptible tightening of the woman’s fingers around it.
Ivelle’s smile widened.
"Butler Maris," she repeated, taking a small step closer. "Are you perhaps pretending that you cannot hear me now because you have finally grown tired of answering my questions?"
At last, Maris slowly lifted her eyes from the paper and looked directly at her. Her expression remained dignified, as always, but there was a patience in her gaze that appeared to be standing dangerously close to its limits.
"Lady Ivelle," the older woman said, folding the paper neatly before placing it aside, "I assure you that I have not suddenly lost my hearing. However, I have discovered during the past week that whenever you begin calling my name repeatedly in that particular tone, it is usually because you are about to ask a question that I have absolutely no desire to answer."
Ivelle placed a hand dramatically against her chest.
"Maris, that is such an unfair accusation," she said, allowing an expression of exaggerated offense to settle upon her face. "I do not ask questions that you do not want to answer. I merely ask questions that everyone inside this mansion seems strangely determined to keep secret from me."
The elderly woman regarded her silently.
Ivelle waited.
Maris continued regarding her.
Then, very slowly, the older woman released a breath.
It was not a loud sigh.
It was not even particularly dramatic.
But Ivelle immediately noticed it.
Her eyes brightened.
"There!" she exclaimed, pointing toward Maris before the older woman could pretend that nothing had happened. "You did it again. You sighed because of me."
"I breathed, Lady Ivelle."
"That was not breathing."
"It most certainly was."
"No," Ivelle insisted, shaking her head as she moved another step closer. "Normal breathing does not sound like someone who has suddenly discovered that she has been given responsibility for an extremely troublesome child."
Maris’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"I have never said that you are troublesome."
"You did not have to."
"I see."
"You looked at me."
"I am looking at you now."
"That is not the point."
For a brief moment, silence settled between them.
Then, much to Ivelle’s satisfaction, Maris’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly.
Ivelle immediately leaned forward.
"You were going to smile."
"I was not."
"You were."
"Lady Ivelle."
"I saw it."
Maris closed her eyes briefly.
Ivelle smiled victoriously.
There was something strangely comforting about these small exchanges. Although the mansion remained unfamiliar and although almost everyone inside it continued to behave as though Zelos Mortum was a subject best approached with extreme caution, Maris had gradually become the closest thing Ivelle possessed to a familiar presence within those enormous walls.
Perhaps that was why she enjoyed teasing her.
Or perhaps she simply enjoyed discovering that the perfectly composed elderly woman was, in fact, capable of becoming exasperated.
Either way, Ivelle eventually decided that she had tormented her enough.
For now.
"All right," she said at last, her playful expression gradually softening. "I will stop. I actually wanted to ask you something serious."
That immediately changed Maris’s attention.
The elderly woman straightened slightly, and whatever amusement had threatened to appear disappeared from her expression. She watched Ivelle more carefully now, apparently recognizing the change in her voice.
"What is it, Lady Ivelle?" she asked quietly. "If there is something troubling you, you may speak freely."
Ivelle’s smile faded completely.
She glanced down the corridor before looking back at Maris, and for the first time since approaching her, there was no playfulness in her expression. She had spent an entire week attempting to convince herself that she could remain patient. She had rested when she was told to rest. She had allowed her leg to heal. She had accepted the meals, the clothes, the rooms, and even Elara’s constant attention.
But patience was becoming increasingly difficult.
"I want you to imagine something," Ivelle began quietly as she clasped her hands together before her. "Imagine that someone you love disappears, and you have absolutely no idea where that person has gone or whether she is even safe."
Maris’s expression softened.
Ivelle continued before the older woman could interrupt.
"You spend every day wondering whether she is frightened. You wonder whether she needs help. You wonder whether she is somewhere calling your name while you are too far away to hear her." Her voice lowered slightly, and she briefly looked toward the nearest window, where the afternoon light fell softly across the polished floor. "Then, while trying to find her, you end up inside a place you have never seen before, surrounded by people you barely know, and suddenly an entire week passes without you being able to do anything."
"Lady Ivelle," Maris began gently, but Ivelle shook her head.
"Please, let me finish," she said, lifting her eyes again. "I know that you and Elara have been kind to me. I know that nobody has harmed me here, and I am grateful for that. But I cannot continue sitting inside this mansion while Liriel is missing somewhere outside."
Maris remained quiet.
Ivelle drew a slow breath.
"My leg has healed now," she continued. "I can walk properly again, and I am not asking you to help me disappear forever. I am only asking whether you could possibly help me leave the estate long enough to search for her."
There was a brief pause.
Then Ivelle added, almost pleadingly, "Please, Maris. If you were the one in my position, I do not think you would enjoy being trapped behind these walls without knowing what was happening to someone you cared about."
The older woman’s expression changed.
Ivelle could see that her words had reached her.
Maris opened her mouth, apparently preparing to answer.
But before she could speak, her attention suddenly shifted.
The movement was subtle, but Ivelle noticed it immediately.
Maris’s eyes moved past her shoulder.
Ivelle frowned.
"What is it?"
The elderly woman did not answer.
Instead, her entire posture became more formal.
Ivelle turned.
And froze.
Zelos Mortum stood at the far end of the corridor.
For one brief moment, Ivelle simply stared at him.
A week.
He had disappeared for an entire week.
Well—not entirely disappeared. She had occasionally seen him from a distance, moving through corridors or leaving the estate in his carriage, but he had never stopped to speak with her. He had never come to her room. He had never explained why she was there.
And now he was standing before her as though none of that was strange.
Ivelle immediately straightened.
Her fingers came together before her.
Maris bowed respectfully.
"Welcome back, my lord," the elderly woman greeted him.
Ivelle followed almost immediately.
She lowered her head, hoping that her surprise had not been obvious.
"Welcome back, Lord Zelos," she said respectfully. "I hope your journey was safe."
For several seconds, she remained still.
Then Zelos’s voice reached her.
"It was."
That was all.
Ivelle slowly lifted her head.
His eyes rested upon her briefly, and she suddenly became aware of how carefully she had dressed that morning. The dress she wore was one of the ones that had been waiting inside the wardrobe when she first arrived, and although she had gradually become accustomed to the clothing over the past week, she still occasionally felt as though she were wearing someone else’s life.
Zelos’s gaze moved away from her.
Then he turned and began walking toward the staircase.
Ivelle stared after him.
That was it?
He was simply going upstairs?
After ignoring her for an entire week?
She glanced toward Maris.
The older woman was watching her.
Ivelle looked back toward Zelos.
Then toward Maris again.
Maris immediately understood the expression on her face.
"No," she said firmly.
Ivelle blinked.
"I have not said anything."
"You do not need to."
"I was simply looking."
"You were calculating."
"I was not."
Maris gave her a long look.
Ivelle’s expression became innocent.
The elderly woman remained unconvinced.
"Lady Ivelle," Maris continued, "I strongly advise you to remain where you are."
Ivelle glanced toward the staircase.
Zelos was already disappearing from sight.
She looked back at Maris.
"I have spent an entire week waiting for him to speak to me," she said, lowering her voice. "Now that he has finally returned, you cannot honestly expect me to stand here and allow him to disappear again."
Maris sighed.
Ivelle smiled immediately.
"There it is again."
"Go."
The word came with such exhausted resignation that Ivelle’s smile widened.
"Thank you, Butler Maris."
"Lady Ivelle."
But Ivelle was already moving.
She hurried toward the staircase, although she was careful not to run. Her leg had healed considerably, but she had no desire to give Elara another reason to begin hovering around her like a worried guardian.
By the time she reached the upper floor, Zelos had disappeared into his study.
Ivelle stopped outside the large doors.
For a moment, she stood there, staring at them.
She should knock.
Of course she should.
Whatever else she was, she had not completely forgotten her manners.
She lifted her hand.
Before her knuckles could touch the door, Zelos’s voice sounded from inside.
"Come in."