The Disappearance of Winter's Daughter (Riyria Chronicles #4)(62)

“Still have a face, see?” Hadrian grinned at him.

“Yes, I see. I see very well, in fact, which is part of why I don’t accept it as conclusive proof that things worked out for the best.”

Hadrian scowled.

Royce reached Hemsworth’s door, and as expected, it was locked.

“You just hate being happy, don’t you?” Hadrian asked.

“I have no idea. What’s it like?”

If Royce needed any more evidence Hadrian was wrong about the day, he found it the moment he popped the lock and opened the door to the boardinghouse. Inside, Evelyn Hemsworth stood before him. She was dressed in a beige robe, her hair wrapped in a floral-print scarf, her arms folded. She stared with a surprised expression that quickly soured.

“How did you get in?” she asked accusingly. “I locked that door.”

“I guess I used the key you gave us.”

“I gave you nothing of the sort.”

“We rent a room here. How can you expect us to get in if you lock the door and don’t give us a key?”

“I told you, I expect those under my roof to arrive during civilized hours. I don’t approve of you slinking in at all hours like a pair of burglars. There’s no legitimate reason for a body to be on the streets at this time of night. No reputable excuse. Now, as I did not—as I said—give you a key, how did you open that door?”

“You must have forgotten to lock it.”

Evelyn took a menacing step forward, glaring at Royce with a stern-faced expression. She jabbed at him with her forefinger. “Don’t get smart with me, young man. You know full well that door was locked, and that I never gave either one of you a key. Now, explain yourself.”

Royce pointed at Hadrian. “He did it.”

Hadrian’s brows went up. “Did not.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed on Royce. “You’re dancing on the edge of a very steep cliff, my boy.”

“What happened to treading on thin ice? I only ask because I don’t dance.”

She ignored him. “I don’t like these late-night shenanigans the two of you have been conducting. I also don’t like being woken from a dead sleep by someone banging on my door!”

Royce glanced at Hadrian, who showed he was just as puzzled. “We didn’t knock.”

“Not you.” Evelyn shook a hand at them. “The other one. Got me up by threatening to break down my door. Hammered on it with his fists, which was utterly futile. My husband was a tax collector, you see. He took precautions against home invasion. Would take a battering ram to break this door. So, after tiring himself out and getting frustrated, he tried to convince me he was your brother.” She sniffed indignantly. “As if I couldn’t tell the difference.”

“I don’t have a brother,” Royce said.

“Well, if you did, I wouldn’t let him in, either. Not at that time of night. I told him I didn’t care if he was related to the duke. It was far too late to be banging on proper people’s doors. If he had business with you, he would have to conduct it in the morning at a decent hour.”

“What’d he say?” Hadrian asked this time.

“That he knew you weren’t back, and he’d wait quietly in your room so I could go back to sleep.”

“You didn’t let him in, did you?”

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “What do you take me for? Of course not. The fellow was dressed up like a bandit in a dark hood and cloak, and soaking-wet as if he’d just taken a bath in his clothes. And he was a mir.” She whispered this last bit as if it was a dirty secret. “Which is proof he was lying about being your brother. I certainly wasn’t opening the door for a dishonest, drenched marauder. Do you think me a fool? That person was up to no good. Dangerous is what he was, and while you’re under this roof, you’re under my protection.”

The bird is still alive? And he knows where we’re staying.

Evelyn Hemsworth didn’t look like any sort of bodyguard Royce would have picked, but there was no denying that she’d defended them from the most dangerous adversary Royce had encountered in years.

“So, he finally left.” She leaned in toward Royce, her arms still folded, her eyes locked on his. “The two of you had better mend your ways. I can see you’re falling in with a bad crowd. You both seem to be decent boys, granted a bit dim-witted and slow, but the captain of the city guard vouches for you, and—”

Royce and Hadrian both raised their brows.

“Don’t look so surprised. When I heard you were picked up by the watchmen, I was planning on throwing you out into the street. But then I asked Captain Wyberg about it, and he said it was all a misunderstanding. He also said that you two”—she nodded rather than pointed in Hadrian’s direction—“had served together. Still, this city has bad elements. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up in trouble. We don’t want that, do we?”

“No, ma’am,” Hadrian said.

“And I won’t be having any more late-night visitors banging on my door, will I?”

“No, ma’am,” Hadrian repeated.

“And no more fiddling with my lock,” she said to Royce. “Agreed?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Good.” She nodded curtly. “And don’t be late for breakfast. I’m making waffles.”