Page 99 of The Winner's Curse
“You gave Cheat the key to my rooms!” Because how else, how else had Cheat crept in so quietly? Arin had invited him, opened his home, offered his possessions, offered her—
“No.” Arin looked sick. “Never. You must believe that I would never do that.”
Kestrel clenched her jaw.
“Think, Kestrel. Why would I give Cheat the key to your suite, only to kill him?”
She shook her head. She didn’t know.
Arin passed a hand over his brow. The blood smeared. He tried to rub it away with his sleeve, but when he looked at her there was still a red streak above his gray eyes. The viciousness that had filled his face when he had entered the room was gone. Now he just looked young.
He stood, went to tug his sword out of the body, and felt the dead man’s pockets. He pulled out a thick iron ring with dozens of keys. He turned it, staring as the keys slid and rang.
Arin shut them up inside his fist. “My house,” he said thickly. He looked at Kestrel. “Keys can be copied.” His eyes pleaded with her. “I have no idea how many sets Irex’s family had. Cheat could have had this one, somehow, even before Firstwinter.”
She saw how what he said might be true. She didn’t think anyone could fake the horror on Arin’s face when he first saw Kestrel on the floor. Or the way he looked now: as if what had happened to her was happening to him.
“Believe me, Kestrel.”
She did … and she didn’t.
Arin undid the ring, slipped off two keys, and set them in Kestrel’s hand. “These are for your suite. Keep them.”
She gazed at the dull metal on her palm. She recognized one key. The other … “Is this one for the garden door?”
“Yes, but”—Arin looked away—“you wouldn’t want to use it.”
Kestrel had guessed that Arin lived in the west wing suite, and that it had been his father’s as hers had been his mother’s. But it wasn’t until then that she understood what the two gardens were for: a way for husband and wife to visit each other without the entire household knowing.
Kestrel stood, because Arin was standing and she had had enough of crouching on the floor.
“Kestrel…” Arin’s question was something he clearly hated to ask. “How badly are you hurt?”
“As you see.” Her eye was swelling shut, and the carpet had skinned her cheek raw. “My face. Nothing more.”
“I could kill him a thousand times and still want to do it again.”
She looked at Cheat’s slumped body as it soaked the carpet with blood. “Somebody had better clean that up. It won’t be me. I’m not your slave.”
Quietly, he said, “You’re really not.”
“I might believe you if you gave me the whole set of keys.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Ah, but would you have any respect for my intelligence?”
* * *
When night fell, Kestrel tried the garden door. Arin’s garden was as bare as hers, the walls as smooth. His sunroom was dark, but the hallway that led from it to the rest of the suite was a glowing tunnel.
Somewhere in the layers and shapes of illuminated rooms, a long shadow moved.
Arin, awake.
She slipped back inside her garden and locked the door.
The shaking that had consumed her earlier—after—returned. It was deep inside this time. Even if she had stepped into the garden with the thought of escape, when she saw Arin’s shadow she knew that she had really come for his company.
She couldn’t bear to be alone.
