“Yes, a bun.” She shucked off her boots. They hit the floor with two dull thuds. “I overslept the matinee—probably because someone woke me up at the ass crack—”

“Watch your mouth—”

“—of dawn.” She stretched leisurely and fell back against the pillows. Sharp pains shot up my fingers from my grip on the chair. I took a deep breath and let go. “A page boy brought me a rather unfortunate dress this morning—one of the maids’, with a neckline up to my ears—to wear until someone could make it to market. No one had exactly made it a priority, so I charmed the kid into giving me the coin the Archbishop left for my wardrobe and took the liberty of purchasing it myself. The rest will be delivered this evening.”

Dresses. To purchase dresses—not this unholy creation. This pair of trousers looked nothing like the grubby pair she’d worn before. She’d obviously had these tailored with the Archbishop’s coin. They fit her like a second skin.

I cleared my throat. Maintained my visual of the desk. “And the guards—they let you—”

“Leave? Of course. We were under the impression this wasn’t a prison sentence.”

Refrain from anger. I turned slowly. “I told you to stay in the Tower.”

I risked a glance at her then. Mistake. She’d propped her knees up, kicking one over the other. Flaunting every curve on her lower body. I swallowed hard and forced my gaze back to the floor.

She knew what she was doing, too. Devil.

“And you expected me to listen?” She laughed. No—chuckled. “Honestly, Chass, it was a little too easy to leave. The guards at the door almost begged me to go. You should’ve seen their faces when I actually came back—”

“Why did you?” The words came out before I could stop them. I cringed internally. It wasn’t as if I cared. And it didn’t matter, anyway. All that mattered was that she’d disobeyed me. As for my brothers . . . I would need to have a word with them. Clearly. No one abhorred the heathen’s presence more than I, but the Archbishop had given orders.

She stayed. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health.

“I told you, Chass.” Her voice grew unusually quiet, and I risked another glance. She’d rolled to her side and now looked me square in the eye. Chin propped in her hand. Arm draped across her waist. “I have many enemies.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. Her face remained impassive. For the first time since I’d met her, emotion didn’t radiate from her very being. She was . . . blank. Carefully, skillfully blank. She arched a brow at my appraisal. A silent question.

But there was no need to ask—to have her confirm what I already suspected. Stupid as it was to take a thief at her word, there wasn’t a better explanation for why she’d returned. I didn’t want to admit it, but she was clever. Masterful at the art of escape. Probably impossible to find once hidden.

Which meant she was here because she wanted to be. Because she needed to be. Whoever her enemies were, they must’ve been dangerous.

I broke our eye contact to stare at the bedpost. Focus. “You disobeyed me,” I repeated. “I told you to stay in the Tower, and you didn’t. You broke trust.” She rolled her eyes, mask cracking. I tried to resurrect my previous anger, but it didn’t burn quite as hot now. “The guards will be more vigilant, especially after the Archbishop hears of your indiscretions. He won’t be pleased—”

“Unexpected bonus—”

“And you’ll remain confined to the lower floors,” I finished through clenched teeth. “The dormitories and commissary.”

She sat up, curiosity flaring in her blue-green eyes. “What’s on the top floors, again?”

“None of your business.” I strode to the door without looking back at her, sighing in relief when a maid strode past. “Bridgette! Can my wife, er, borrow a gown? I’ll return it first thing tomorrow morning.” When she nodded, blushing, and hurried away, I turned back to Louise. “You’ll need to change. We’re going to the council room, and you can’t wear those in front of my brothers.”

She didn’t move. “Your brothers? What could they possibly want with me?”

It must’ve been physically impossible for this woman to submit to her husband. “They want to ask you some questions about your witch friend.”

Her answer came immediately. “I’m not interested.”

“It wasn’t a request. As soon as you’re dressed appropriately, we leave.”

“No.”

I glared at her for a full second longer—waiting for her to concede, waiting for her to demonstrate the proper meekness befitting a woman—before realizing who this was.

Lou. A thief with a man’s name. I turned on my heel. “Fine. Let’s go.”

I didn’t wait for her to follow. Honestly, I didn’t know what I’d do if she didn’t. The memory of the Archbishop striking her reared in my mind, and the heat coursing through me burned hotter. That would never happen again. Even if she cursed—even if she refused to listen to a single word I ever said—I would never raise my fist to her.

Ever.

Which left me fervently hoping she followed.

After a few seconds, soft footsteps echoed behind me in the corridor. Thank God. I shortened my strides, so she could catch up. “Through here,” I murmured, leading her down the staircase. Careful not to touch her. “To the dungeon.”

She looked up at me in alarm. “The dungeon?”

I almost chuckled. Almost. “The council room is down there.”

I ushered her through another corridor. Down a smaller, steeper flight of stairs. Terse voices drifted toward us as we descended. I pushed open the crude wooden door at the base of the stairs and motioned for her to step inside.

A dozen of my brethren stood arguing around an enormous circular table in the middle of the room. Bits of parchment littered it. Newspaper clippings. Charcoal sketches. Underneath it all stretched an enormous map of Belterra. Every mountain range—every bog, forest, and lake—had been inked with care and precision. Every city and landmark.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the little thief.” Jean Luc’s eyes swept over her with keen interest. He sauntered around the table to examine her closer. “Come to grace us with her presence at last.”