Within These Wicked Walls(31)



“Thank you, Saba,” I breathed. I touched the ends of my hair, the split, damaged ends replaced by relatively soft strands, then looked at my friend’s pleased expression in the mirror. “Can you believe it? I didn’t talk that entire time.”

Saba gasped and hunched over my chair, shoulders shaking. I leapt up and leaned my knee on the seat to see what was wrong, a grin abruptly replacing my grimace. She was laughing. It was a joyful experience to watch, and I joined in without questioning the impulse.

“You might just be my favorite person,” I said, grabbing her—oh my—surprisingly hard shoulder. “You’ve got solid muscles. I assume it’s from Magnus making you do all the hard work around here.”

Saba rolled her eyes, but with a slight, forgiving grin.

“I should get back to work before Magnus loses his mind again,” I said, leaning forward. I paused. Would Saba be comfortable with a hug?

No. I wasn’t going to overstep the boundaries of the only friend I’d ever had. Besides, I didn’t have much experience with hugs, and had a feeling I would mess it up.

“Let me help you clean up first,” I said, to which Saba held up her hands and shook her head. She grinned and handed me my basket of supplies, then shooed me out of the room and shut the door behind me. I found myself staring at my own closed door.

Everyone in this house was so strange. But at least Saba was the good kind.

I made my way downstairs. Between that trip to town, my nap, and that much overdue makeover, I’d spent most of the day not working. Then again, it wasn’t as if I’d ever taken a day off before.

There was a strange sound as soon as I made it down the stairs and around the corner, like the countering plucks of an instrument. I’d heard it before, my first night here—a night so terrifying, I’d nearly forgotten it had begun with beautiful music. I followed the song to find Magnus playing a small piano. It was elaborately decorated, just like everything else he liked. The rest of the room was draped in white sheets, and with the curtains flung open letting in the rich sunlight, dust floating in the rays like magic, it almost looked ethereal. The room was cold, just like the others, but somehow it didn’t feel so cold today.

I put my basket down and leaned on the piano, watching him for a moment before saying, “Your piano’s broken.”

Magnus glanced up, then did a double take and fumbled over a few notes as if he hadn’t expected to see me. Or, more likely, he was shocked that I was actually put together. I let out a breath of laughter and he blushed, giving me a sheepish grin before turning back to his music.

I don’t know why I laughed. It’s not like I found startling him to be funny.

“You look nice,” he said. It sounded like an incomplete thought. Instead of finishing it he played with the edge of the page, folding and unfolding.

“Um, thank you. Saba cut my hair for me.” And it was better conditioned than it’d been in years, but he didn’t have to know everything. “She seems really devoted to you. I hope you pay her well.”

“Oh, Saba gets whatever she wants. What’s mine is hers.”

I doubted that, but with Magnus it was better to deal with one issue at a time. “I mean a salary for her work.”

“She isn’t paid a salary. She has access to my fortune, same as I do. One of the benefits of being a longtime friend,” he said, resuming the quick, canonic notes. “And this is a harpsichord, by the way. Not a piano.” He played on for a moment. “You’re worse than any specter in this house. Do you mean to intimidate me, Andromeda, with all your looming and interrogation?”

He’d ended our conversation very deliberately, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be annoyed. I’d get my answers eventually. “I doubt that’s possible, Magnus.”

I liked the way he smiled when I said his name. At least, I imagined that’s why he smiled. More likely it was because he couldn’t play and also turn the page quick enough, which was what he was struggling with now.

He glanced up at me again. “I suppose you can’t intimidate an equal.”

“I’m your employee. There’s really nothing equal about our relationship.”

“You’re doing me a great favor. And in exchange, I’m doing you one.”

“You hired me. You’re paying me.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to take the job. Besides, we are equal in more ways than that.” We were quiet, the music taking over the room. “I need you to turn my pages.”

“‘Please.’”

“Please, what?”

I rolled my eyes. “You mean, ‘Please, Andromeda, will you turn my pages?’”

“Well, will you or won’t you? I’m getting to the end and I’d rather not stop.”

“Say ‘please’ and I’ll think about it.”

His fingers tripped over themselves, ending in a plunk. And then he lifted his gaze, hesitantly, like nerves were getting the better of him. But his gaze was getting the better of me. I liked when he looked at me, but this was too steady, too invasive. I wasn’t about to let him figure me out before I could gauge him.

He’s not your enemy, Andi.

Still, my voice came out slightly tight as I demanded, “Why are you staring at me?”

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