The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(10)

He clears his throat again. “You know, you’re very cute. And if I were at all inclined in that direction, you’d certainly be someone to consider.”

It takes me a second to realize he’s turning me down.

“A simple no would suffice,” I mutter.

“Suffice it to say, my no isn’t simple.”

“I’m not in the mood for riddles,” I snap. I’m starting to wish I hadn’t drunk that ale. Or that I’d drunk more so I’d be passed out somewhere instead of babbling like an idiot to a fool.

“I’m going to go now,” I say. “So, as I said, up those stairs, through that door, under the tapestry, and that’s that.” I turn around and walk down the hall. I’m almost to the end when I hear his voice.

“Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?”

I don’t reply. I just keep walking.

Soon the hall grows narrower and warmer, and I know I’m nearing the kitchen. Supper was over hours ago, but I can still smell the food through the wall, hear the commotion on the other side as they clean: pots banging, maids shouting, the footsteps of servants still carrying in trays from the dining hall.

My stomach starts growling, and I wonder if I can sneak inside and get something to eat without anyone seeing me. I drop to my knees and skim my hand along the wall until I feel a small notch, big enough to slip my finger through: the handle on the tiny door that opens into the kitchen between the wall and the bread oven.

I discovered this door my first week in the kitchen. I was only nine then and didn’t have the courage to open it. I didn’t know what was on the other side, but I imagined plenty: snakes, ghosts, vicious child-eating monsters. Time passed and I forgot about it, until one day Caleb came to keep me company while I did my chores.

I remember his sitting on the floor, playing against himself in a game of dice, left hand versus right. He wasn’t supposed to be in the kitchen with me; the other maids found him distracting. Caleb was only fourteen then, but he was almost six feet tall, with dark blond hair that fell over his eyes in waves. He was good-looking and he knew it. I was only twelve and I knew it, too.

I also knew he was stubborn. No amount of whining or pleading could make Caleb do something he didn’t want to—or turn him off course once he’d decided to do it. If he wanted to stay in the kitchen and distract me, he would. The door is what finally enticed him to leave that day. He swept his dice from the floor, crossed the room, and pushed it open. There was a hall on the other side, dark and dank, leading to the unknown.

He asked me to go with him, to find out where it went. I didn’t hate small, dark spaces then—not like I do now—but I still didn’t want to go. I had work to do and knew I’d get in trouble if I left. But I always followed Caleb everywhere. There wasn’t any place he could ask me to go that I wouldn’t say yes to. But I never considered the possibility that one day he would stop asking me. Never realized that without him, I had nowhere to go.

Suddenly, I don’t feel hungry anymore. I get to my feet and push through the next door, into the hall that leads to the maids’ quarters. Here, it is dim, lit only by a single torch set into a bracket in the wall. But it’s still bright enough to make my head start spinning again, just like it did inside the tavern. I lean against the wall and close my eyes to try to make it stop. I’m tired. So tired that when I hear his voice it takes me a second to respond.

“Elizabeth?”

I jerk my head up. There, at the end of the hall, is Caleb. He starts toward me, his hands clasped behind his back. My heart leaps at the sight of him.

“Where have you been?” He’s standing in front of me now, his face half hidden in the shadows. “And what happened to you? You look terrible.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” I mutter.

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“What are you doing here?” I say. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know”—I wave my hand around—“moving in circles and swaying oh-so-gently to the music?”

Caleb smiles. “It’s midnight. The ladies have been asleep for hours.”

Something about the way he says that grates on me. As if he’s insinuating I’m not a lady because I haven’t been asleep for hours. As if I didn’t already know I was no lady without that.

“Well, tra-la-la,” I say under my breath.

“I wanted to check on you before I went to bed, only you weren’t here.”

“I was busy,” I snap. “I don’t always sit around my room waiting for you to show up. If that were the case, who knows how long I’d be stuck inside?”

Caleb’s eyes go wide. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to him this way before. But I’m so angry I can’t help myself.

“Besides, I don’t need you to check on me. I’m perfectly fine.” I move toward my door but get hit with another wave of dizziness. I throw my arms against the wall to steady myself, but my feet get tangled up in my cloak and I tumble to the floor.

“Yes, you seem perfectly fine,” Caleb says. I can hear the amusement in his voice. I would be furious if I weren’t about to throw up. “Just how much of that ale did you drink, anyway?” He helps me to my feet.

“I dunno,” I mumble, leaning against him and closing my eyes again. Things don’t spin as much when my eyes are closed.