The King's Eye

Chapter 44

 Five minutes passed and then ten, enough to ensure they were not leaving the room anytime soon.

My nerves begged me to stop what had mentally been decided. The moment Matis had agreed to bring me to the press it had become a promise. Rolling over hills of internal dread, my stomach churned. There was no doubt this was my chance to prove myself, though. I was a spy and it was time I acted like it.

Staying in the shadows along the edge of the room, I skirted across the space until I reached where Matis and Martin had disappeared. I grabbed for the nearest chair, forgetting to lift it up when I pulled it toward the door. The loud screech across the wooden floor halted me.

Hesitation drew the eyes of one of the men rolling ink in place. I could see the questions forming as he glanced over my hulking clothes, but with an eye roll he carried on with his work. My hand fell from the dagger hidden in my jacket with relief.

One of Jacques's, the dagger still had blood crusted to its hilt from a mission he had been on. I had grabbed it out of necessity, but could not fathom how he wore one on his hip daily. He wore it like an accessory most days, but I had never even wielded a weapon let alone carried one. The weight of it bouncing against my body with every step alarmed my mind more ways than I could count.

The truth was I had never learned how to defend myself, but to be a woman alone in the world meant I had to learn. Grabbing Jacques's blood crusted dagger from the room had given me the leverage I needed. The security. But if I were to actually need to use it...there was no guarantee it would protect me. I was more likely to injure myself than the person I pulled it on.

These men did not know that, though. I only prayed they didn't know I was not a man myself.

Sliding the chair underneath the doorknob, I wedged it until even the leverage of my weight wouldn't move it. There was no room for risks here. Everything had to go as planned.

I glanced back at the man who had noticed me only seconds ago, ensuring he was far too busy with his work to see my next move. Spinning on my heel, I rounded back toward the front of the room to find the oil that had caught my eye when we entered. It would not take a lot of it to start a blaze, but I would need every drop of what was there. Fortunately, the room was strung with kindling in all directions.

A candle lay catty-cornered on a table near the supplies, drawing direct light and attention to the pile. Licking the tip of my thumb and pointer finger in a swift motion, I quickly pinched out the flame to allow the shadows to consume me again. My back was against the wall by the time I was digging through the boxes, my senses constantly alerting me to the surroundings. The oil was there. I knew it was there. Lifting up a lid on one of the small crates, a bottle rolled off and landed in a crash. As the glass scattered across the floor, my heart stopped. Horror filling me and beginning to pour out, my hand dropped the lid with a thud.

"Damned rats," A man grumbled, walking over to where I stood. "What the hell is that cat even doing here if it isn't catching them, Pierre?" He wiped his ink covered hands on a rag.

"It is late, he is probably laid up in the rafters." A heavier set man with aged lines in his face and boyish features pointed up. "Bacchantes is just sleeping like we all wish we were."

Another man groaned. "You named it?"

The heavier man shrugged before continuing to press the metal plates down.

"That's why it doesn't catch any damn rats," the man walking toward me growled.

Shrinking into the wall, I laid my hand over the dagger in fear. Please. Please. Please. I closed my eyes as I tried to ground myself and remain calm. Please do not make me use this. He stopped just short of the box I shrunk against, examining the pieces of glass on the floor in the darkness.