the white fox

CHAPTER FIVE,

THE WHITE FOX | FIVE

  GOING TO THE library meant splitting up halfway there, Io to search the building, Danna to act as alibi. With a quick nod, the two turned in opposite directions. Io's heart thumped as she turned down a few corridors until she was in areas of the house only frequented by the servants. She'd changed for dinner into a darker dress. It was paying off now. The lack of jewellery further aided her disguise. She stuck to the shadows, invisible as a wraith.

They didn't have any suspects yet, so there was no point in searching the guests' rooms. Not until they pinned someone down. For now, she'd go around, looking for hiding spots that she or anyone else might use. Make a floor plan in her head. She'll draw it out or verbally describe it to the others later.

The Carlston manor was massive. Sprawling wings and room upon room. If the kids she'd known in Asayama were here today, they'd be drooling. It didn't matter how much luxury she'd been treated to in the past years. She'd never lost the girl who had starved on the streets, deprived of her mother with a vengeful monster as a father. Never lost the girl who hid and watched and sobbed soundlessly in the dead of the night.

It was what made her such a good spy.

Her steps were light, soundless. Asteria liked to joke that she walked like she was floating, feet barely skimming the floor. That was the result of the legion of dance lessons Lady Kuroki had imposed upon her. Io liked to think that the baroness felt guilty for not having prepared her mother enough when she was let into the world, so she tried to make up for every imperfection with Io.

She saw the daughter and thought of the mother. It wasn't a comfortable life. But Lady Kuroki meant well, so she never complained. After all, she wouldn't be half the operative today otherwise.

She wasn't the same girl she was at three. Or twelve. That girl had been playful. She liked exuberant and loud missions, ones that shouted her credit. She was quieter now. Less emotional. So she kept on walking, mapping out the corridors as she went. There was a servant's passageway here. She stopped, fingers skimming the part where the door met the wall. Where would this lead? No one was around, she was sure about that. She pushed the door open, softly, quietly.

The passageway was faintly lit by some torches. This was a passageway that was frequently used, she thought to herself. That meant she had to be careful. If she was found, though, she carried a few coins in her pocket. Nothing a little bribery couldn't solve.

When she reached a crossroad, she took the left turn. That would bring her to somewhere in the north wing, near where she had started the journey. Far away enough from the drawing rooms that no guest would be lurking around.

The sound of a door opening interrupted her thoughts. Io instinctively darted into a dark-lit spot. Not that it would have done her any good, the passageway was far too narrow. But no one came, so she continued her journey.

There. The exit. She pressed her ear against the door for a moment, not leaning her body weight on it. Nothing. Quiet as death. She pushed the door open and walked out, steps soundless. Shut the door behind her. Turned to go—

"I always wondered what ladies did when they retired after dinner."

Her blood turned to chill ice. Only years of training kept her from jolting. She raised her head and said, not looking in his direction, "Do you make a habit of following young ladies through dark manors?"

"No, not really. I consider you a special case. Not that you should really be considered a lady, I suppose. When did you know?"

He didn't talk like the boy she'd met two years ago. That one was joyous, naive. He smiled a lot more and was amused by the simplest of things. This boy had hard eyes that seemed to pierce through her soul. He was handsome, but it did nothing to hide the toughness. He could dress like a pimpering peacock and it wouldn't make him seem like another pampered lordling. She was much the same.