Suddenly, her mouth was covered by a large hand from behind, and a cold, sharp edge was at her throat.
Her body was pressed against a man much taller and bigger than her.
His body was warm and tense behind her, ready to move if she so much as twitched.
Involuntarily, her little finger did just that.
Her heart lurched.
Fuck!
She closed her eyes, and her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart trying to break the hundred-meter world record.
Her thoughts raced just as frantically, searching for a way out.
But her disorganized mind went blank.
Pretending she was mute was all she could think of.
Thank God she had gone to the restroom earlier.
Otherwise, this would have been embarrassing as well as terrifying.
Every muscle in her body went rigid and tensed even more when he lowered his head beside her ear, his breath burning the skin of her neck.
A few tears squeezed out from between her tightly shut eyelids.
“When I move my hand away from your mouth, you can scream as loud as you want.
No one will hear it,” he rasped into her ear.
With each word, her fear grew, and every hair on her body stood on end.
This close, a scent of alcohol mixed with cinnamon and nutmeg came off him.
At his order order to turn, she first opened her eyes.
When he removed his hand from her mouth, she slowly turned around.
Venya found herself looking into the same light-blue eyes she had seen before.
“You?” she squeaked, her voice rising.
So much for playing mute.
The man raised an eyebrow, still holding the dagger against her throat.
She glanced at it briefly.
“Would… Would you…” She swallowed.
From her hairline, a single drop of sweat rolled down her neck, tickling her and making her want to squirm.
“D-d-dagger, please.
I won’t do anything.” That was true.
Apart from taking a self-defense course last year, she didn’t have the skills to fight the man.
She realized how ridiculous it would be.
Trying to fight his quick, practiced movements with her uncertain, trembling ones would be suicide.
It only proved that she had wasted her money.
“Then don’t do anything… funny,” he said with deliberate slowness.
With neat dark hair and tailored clothes, he looked every inch a gentleman.
Except for the dagger, which he drew back from her throat.
He didn’t put it away.
Instead, he toyed with it.
If it was meant to show how quickly he could handle the weapon, it did the job.
Venya looked down, picking at her nails as if she might find a plausible explanation there that would get her off the hook.
“Well?” he asked, still intently watching her every move.
“Well… I came to look for some paper and a pen,” she said.
They were in the study.
That’s where you find those.
Logical, eh?
Now that the dagger was no longer at her throat, she could take in more of the room.
She hadn’t really expected much, but the big filing cabinets were another matter.
She quickly realized that you didn’t just walk into the room.
The unlocked door was a fluke, and her excuse fell apart.
“Really?” “Really,” she answered, continuing down this path to doom.
“Move there.” He casually pointed his dagger toward the other side of the room, away from the door.
She obeyed while the man himself moved behind the writing desk and placed the dagger on the desk.
Still keeping a close watch on her, he opened drawers one by one until he found what he was looking for.
Then he placed a stack of paper and a pen on the desk and opened an ink bottle beside them.
Then he pulled the chair out, motioned for her to sit down, and picked up his dagger.
Heat crept up her neck, followed her hairline, and reached her temples.
She rubbed at the sweat as if she were merely straightening the scarf on her head.
As she moved to sit down, her fingers brushed over the pocket holding the bracelet.
She caught his gaze flicking toward the movement.
She was ruining the mission, but the man didn’t say anything.
Venya seated herself at the desk, and he politely pushed the chair in for her.
The once-polished, reddish-brown lacquered surface was scratched in the middle and dusty around the edges.
The two glasses she had noticed earlier smelled smoky and slightly woody.
It made her want a drink too.
She was sure he had noticed that she was hiding something in her pocket.
She needed to reveal a little without making him suspicious.
She picked up a sheet of paper and the pen with slightly trembling hands.
She had only seen this done in a historical drama.
She dipped the pen into the ink.
When she started to write, a huge drop of ink fell onto the paper and spread into a blotch.
“I’m a little nervous,” she said, her voice hitching.
“I’m certain you are.” His voice was cold, not offering any sympathy.
She wiped the pen on the ruined paper and tried again.
This time she managed to get the right amount of ink on the nib.
But writing with the pen felt so alien.
Several crumpled sheets later, she managed to produce something legible.
The flying paper balls had stirred up dust from the desk, making her sneeze.
She rubbed her nose, unknowingly decorating it with ink.
All the while, he watched her little performance in silence.
He leaned over her shoulder to see what she had written, making the skin across her shoulders prickle.
She pushed the chair back, stood, and stepped aside to put some space between them.
“Read it aloud, miss,” he almost whispered, fixing his cool gaze on hers.
What right did he have to be this intimidating?
Yes, maybe… “What’s your business here?” she hissed, staring back just as intently.
“Are you a thief, Mr.
Thief?” The man closed his eyes for a second, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.
But before he could answer, a knock sounded at the door.
“Don’t say a word.” He hid his dagger, taking a few steps aside.
“Come in.” “Good day, Mr.
Vale,” a maid said and curtsied to the man after wheeling a serving cart into the room.
“Lord Thornwick sent you food and drinks.” The maid glanced briefly at Venya, but didn’t say anything.
Venya could read the questions on her face.
“Thank you, Betty,” he said, dismissing the maid.
And when the door closed, he no longer needed to answer.
Thanks to the maid, Venya now knew his name, Mr.
Vale.
Venya began to read.
“Dear Rive,” “You must be that unwelcome girl who’s been putting ideas into Riverd’s head,” Mr.
Vale interrupted, perching on the edge of the desk.
“If you were planning a secret tryst with your sweetheart, I must disappoint you.
He is not here.” His voice had a faint harshness.
Who was Riverd?
Did he mean Rive?
And by the unwelcome girl, did he mean Melia?
“Okay.” She slowly nodded, turning her gaze back at the paper.
“I am returning this to you.
I don’t need this kind of… thing.” Damn, she had made a spelling mistake.
She just smudged the last word and rewrote it.
“Why don’t you add the sender’s name here?” Mr.
Vale tapped the note with his dagger.
She couldn’t keep both Summerhay girls out of this completely.
Her best option was to play along with Mr.
Vale’s assumptions and pretend to be Melia.
Then she would return the trinket with the note to Rive’s room.
Later, she would beg for Melia’s forgiveness for using her name.
Venya hastily added “XOXO, Melia” and smudged the paper even more with her inky fingers.
“One thing I don’t understand, though…” He cleaned under his fingernails with the tip of the dagger.
“Or two things.
What does XOXO mean?
Second, why do you speak strangely?” Mr.
Vale swiftly placed the tip of the dagger against the hollow of her throat.
“Which kingdom are you spying for?” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Terri_Pauline New character: Hart’s dagger Location: Hart’s sleeve Writing this chapter was fun.
The dagger felt like a character to me.