But Naomi had also prepared me with something even Claude was unaware of. Knowledge of how the Long Night could be used. Grady always carried a small pouch of it in the breast pocket of his tunic. With it, I could choose exactly how far I wished the evening to progress.
Sadly, I’d used the Long Night more often than not, and tonight would likely be no different.
“I need to see Maven,” I told Grady when we left the antechamber.
Grady’s shoulders tensed, but he nodded. Entering another narrow, even less traveled hall, we stopped in front of a rounded, wooden door set within an alcove. Like always, the robed figure of the silver-haired Maven answered at the sound of the knock. I walked into her candlelit chamber, leaving Grady in the hall, his jaw so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked his molars.
One look around the space and I saw that she had been expecting me, meaning that either Claude or Hymel had already alerted her. Annoyance flashed. What would Claude have done if I had said no?
But why would he have thought that I would? I didn’t tell him no. Doing so rarely crossed my mind, because this was how I made sure I was invaluable to the Baron. This was how I ensured that Grady and I would never end up back on the streets. So, I wasn’t sure whom I should be more annoyed with. Me or him?
Maven’s space was more of a preparation chamber, outfitted with all the necessities— a clawfoot tub filled with steaming, scented water, brushes and racks of clothing. There was a narrow table where more intense preparation occurred— the waxing and plucking of all the hair on my body except for what grew from my scalp. Claude preferred that long, so it reached my waist now. I didn’t mind the length of hair on my head, but if I ever decided to leave, I was never going to touch a single piece of hair anyplace else again. Thankfully the removal of body hair had already routinely taken place.
I went to the tub, disrobing in the silence. Maven wasn’t known for being talkative. She didn’t speak. Not once as the nightgown slipped from my shoulders and slid over my hips, or while I stepped into the tub and bathed myself. She just waited, a towel held in those crooked fingers, her gaze rheumy but alert.
Naomi had once told me that Maven was the Baron’s grandmother on his father’s side, but Valentino, one of the other paramours, said that she was the widowed wife of one of the past groundskeepers. Lindie, a cook at the manor, claimed that Maven had been a mistress of one of the past Barons, but I was of the opinion that she was a wraith that somehow had managed to keep the flesh on her bones. I glanced at the papery thin skin of her forearms. She barely kept the flesh on her bones.
Once I’d finished in the tub, she dried me off as roughly as humanly possible. Maven also wasn’t known for her gentleness. I stood naked, toes curling against the floor as she shuffled to the rack. The hangers clanged off one another as she flipped through the clothing, eventually pulling out a robe that was the color between cyan and blue. The shade of the Midlands’ cloudless sky.
I shoved my arms into the wrapper and stood still as she knotted the sash so tightly the fabric cut into the soft skin of my waist. One glance in the standing mirror confirmed what I already knew. The vee of the neckline was absurdly deep and the robe was more gossamer than cloth. If I walked in brighter light, the exact shade of the skin surrounding my nipple would be known.
Swallowing a sigh, I went to the stool, sitting so Maven could undo all the pins holding up my hair. She then brushed out the tangles, jerking my head back with each stroke. My nails dug into my palms throughout the whole process; I was sure I’d be half bald soon. When she finished, no more than an hour had passed. She opened the door, leaving me to rejoin Grady in the hall. She didn’t follow. Her task was done for the night.
Neither Grady nor I spoke until we entered the silent hall leading to the various wings of the manor. Only the soft light of the moon streaming in through the windows lit our way, thank the gods.
Twisting my fingers around the sash, I stared ahead, breathing in the air scented with honeysuckle that flourished along the walls of the manor as I thought of other times I’d been asked to use my abilities. Usually it was a visiting baron or another member of the aristo. My intuition usually was able to warn whether the visitor could be trusted or if they were up to something. I could even sense more, if that was what Claude wanted. He liked to know what made the others tick so that he could use that in potential dealings.
“Here,” Grady finally said, reaching into the breast pocket of his tunic, dropping a small coin-sized pouch into my palm. The laughter that usually filled his deep brown eyes was nowhere to be seen, nor were those boyishly charming dimples that had gotten him out of so much trouble when we were younger. “Find out what you need to know and get out.”