Chapter 3

The upper two floors were just as neglected as the bottom two. I didn't know why Baldric hadn't made me stay in one of the cramped rooms on the fourth floor that were usually reserved for staff, but I was grateful nonetheless.

I found the cleaning supplies and started opening doors. None of them were locked, so the whole top floor needed to be cleaned. Thankfully, the manor was plumbed, so I wouldn't have to carry heavy buckets of water up three flights of steps.

I started with the ceilings and walls in each room, knocking down dust and spiderwebs from the corners and wiping down the walls. By the time I was done, the grime had settled enough in the first room to start dusting the furniture.

But first I needed to beat the dust from the mattresses.

I could haul each of them out to the tiny, frozen balcony that led to the roof, or I could… not.

I closed the first bedroom's door and listened to the room's song, then I pressed a hand to the mattress and coaxed the dust out into a neat pile on the floor.

By the time I had cleaned all of the mattresses, the world was a little wobbly. It had been a long time since I'd used my ability so much, and I hadn't exactly been sleeping well for the past few weeks thanks to the stress about the rent.

My energy reserves were low, but they would recover somewhat once the sun set.

I clutched the broom close as footsteps echoed up the stairwell. Had Baldric somehow sensed what I was doing? I should've waited until he was asleep.

I stumbled into the nearest bedroom and started sweeping the dust toward the door. The floor under my feet tipped and rolled, and my knuckles went white around the broom handle as I desperately tried to find my balance.

I just needed to pretend everything was fine long enough to get Baldric to leave. Then I'd sit down for a minute or two and recover.

The footsteps stopped outside the door. I moved the broom in a tiny arc and hoped I wouldn't fall on my face.

"You didn't come down for tea," Baldric said from the doorway.

I glanced up, then blinked hard when it seemed as if there were two of him standing in the hall. He was carrying a tray with a teapot and a plate filled with an assortment of tiny sandwiches.

"I didn't hear the bell," I said. "You shouldn't have troubled yourself."

He frowned at me and stepped into the room to set the tray on the narrow chest of drawers. "I promised you room and board."

"Thank you."

His sharp gaze raked over me, and his eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"

I wiggled my fingers in a dismissive little wave without letting go of the broom. "I just overdid it a bit with all the dusting. Nothing to worry about. Thank you again for the tea."

The dismissal wasn't subtle, but Baldric ignored it. He sniffed the air and scowled. "How long has it been since you last used your magic?"

I shook my head even as the breath froze in my lungs. "Hard work isn't magic."

The icy look in his eyes pinned me in place. "How long?"

"Magic isn't real," I denied with a laugh that felt far too brittle.

He stepped closer, and I scrabbled for the knife in my apron. Unfortunately, upon releasing the broom, I lost the one thing that had been helping me balance. The floor tipped, and I tilted directly into Baldric's waiting arms.

When I struggled, he set me back on my feet but kept his hands on my shoulders. I drew the knife with shaking fingers. "Magic isn't real," I repeated. "I'm not a witch."

He let go of me with one arm and yanked up his left sleeve, sending the button flying and revealing a strong forearm. "Cut me."

"What? No!" I winced at the instinctive response and added threateningly, "I mean, I will if you don't let me go."

"If magic isn't real, then the blade will cut me. So cut me." When I continued to hesitate, he pried the knife from my hand with laughable ease. He held it up. "Watch."

He tapped the blade against his forearm and the metal rang like he'd knocked it against a stone. When he drew the edge across his skin, it didn't even leave a mark behind. He handed me the knife and I accepted it instinctively. "Try for yourself."

I tapped the back of the blade against his arm and it vibrated like he was made of armor instead of flesh. I tested the knife's edge. It was as sharp as I always kept it, but when I tried to make a tiny cut on Baldric's arm, the blade refused to bite in.

I dared to run a finger over his wrist, but his skin felt normal. He sucked in a breath, and I snatched my hand away. "What are you?" I whispered.

His eyes glinted and his expression closed. "A person with magic, just like you. When was the last time you used yours?"

To admit to having magic was to invite death, either from other creatures or from the king's knights. Baldric had shown me his secret to put us on even footing, but it was still difficult to force the words past my unwilling throat.

"Months ago," I murmured. "Longer since I've used this much. But I'll be fine. The tea and food will help."

He pressed me back toward the bed, and I sank down onto the mattress when my knees hit the edge. The world stabilized a bit. Sitting was lovely. I should've done it before he arrived. Maybe then he wouldn't have suspected anything.

A teacup appeared before my nose. "Here, drink."

The tea was overly sweet, and I grimaced before I could modulate the expression into something more polite. "The sugar will help you recover faster," Baldric said.

I drained the cup, but he just took it and refilled it with more syrupy tea. I drank another sip to appease him, then dipped my head. "I'm feeling much better, thank you. Don't let me keep you from your duties."

He took the cup and replaced it with a plate of tiny sandwiches. "Eat."

"You really don't have to—"

"Eat."

I took a bite. Ham and cheese and apple were surprisingly delicious together. I stopped paying attention to Baldric entirely and focused on demolishing everything on my plate. The smoked salmon and cucumber sandwich—where had he gotten cucumbers in the middle of winter?—was even better.

By the time my plate was empty, I was feeling almost normal.

I stood, and the floor stayed where it was supposed to be… mostly. I drank the rest of the lukewarm tea and smiled at Baldric. "Thank you again. I'll be okay now."

"I will help you down to your room."

I shook my head. "I'm not done. I can dust and sweep and mop without magic. I only have a week, and I can't afford to waste time."

I did not mention that leaving the job half-finished would be worse than passing out from magic overuse, but if he insisted I return to my room, then I'd just sneak back up later tonight.

He sighed, then bent and picked up the broom I'd dropped. "You dust. I will sweep."

I stared at him in horror. "Absolutely not." I tried to snatch the broom away, but he refused to let go, and the attempt put me far too close to him.

One corner of his mouth tipped up, nearly a smile, and the hint of warmth was a dangerous distraction. Could I make that smile grow?

I mentally shook my head and tugged on the broom again. "I will clean. You go back to lording or smuggling or whatever it is you do all day."

He pulled the broom back. I refused to let go, so he ended up dragging me even closer. I growled at him, and the other corner of his mouth tipped up. "This is not a battle you will win," he murmured.

He had no idea. A secretive grin bloomed on my lips. "Are you sure?"

Some of the iciness in his eyes melted as his gaze dropped to my mouth. I was close enough to feel the heat from his chest. If I tipped my head up just a little more, I could brush my lips over his.

Desire curled through my belly. He sucked in a breath, and his expression sharpened into hunger. I wasn't the only one affected. I could pull him closer and leave the world behind for a little while.

But I had a house to clean, which meant I didn't have time for a dalliance, as much as we both might enjoy it.

While he was distracted—and before I joined him in that state—I used my magic to call the broom from his hand. The effort left me dizzy again, but it was worth it if only for the split second of shocked surprise on his face.

Then a deep growl rumbled through the room, strong enough to rattle my bones. I froze in place and searched for the threat, only to discover that it was coming from Baldric.

Oh, shit.

Maybe I should've let him keep the broom and assume victory. My magic was good for cleaning, not for fighting. I might be able to coax dust to fly into his eyes, but that was the extent of my offensive abilities—which is why I had learned how to wield a sword.

A sword that was now two floors below me.

"Do not continue to use your magic unless you would like to spend the next week in bed," he snarled, biting off each word with furious temper. "You are dangerously exhausted."

He was angry because I'd overused my magic? It would almost be sweet if it wasn't also terrifying.

I shook my head to deny his words, and the floor tilted, proving that he was more correct than I would prefer. Still, I bluffed. "I'm fine."

He took a deep breath and the rumble returned. "I can smell it."

I sniffed myself, but I didn't smell anything out of the ordinary. "Maybe your nose is broken."

"Of all the frustrating—" He clamped his jaw shut before he finished the sentence, then pinned me in place with a deadly glare and pointed at the bed. "You will sit there and drink another cup of tea while I sweep."

"Or? Threats usually come with some sort of ‘or else' clause."

His head tipped to the side. "Very well. Rest now or I will lock you in your room until you've recovered—completely."

"You could try," I agreed in my sweetest tone.

The rumble rose in volume until the teapot vibrated on the tray. Perhaps it was foolish, but I didn't feel like I was in danger. After all, he was trying to intimidate me into resting, which wasn't exactly villainous behavior.

"You can keep growling if you'd like," I said. "But I have chores to do."

His eyes narrowed and the growl abruptly cut off. He stared at me while he slowly unbuttoned his right cuff then started rolling up the sleeve. The fine white fabric was brilliant against the tan warmth of his skin.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, forcefully dragging my eyes from the captivating expanse of muscle and skin. "You are not helping. You'll ruin your clothes. Just go back downstairs and leave me to it."

"If you insist on continuing to clean, then I insist on helping. And as this is my house, I get to make the rules. If you don't like them, then you are welcome to leave." He raised a challenging eyebrow.

If I left now, the state of his house would be a constant prickle in the back of my mind, and from the look in his eye, he knew it, too.

"Fine," I agreed with a huff. "If you want to help, you can. What do I care if you ruin your fancy shirt?" I caught the grimace before it could escape. Dirty laundry also made my magic prickle, but I was trying my best not to make every mess in this house my problem.

Owner included.

I handed him a dusting cloth. "Dusting needs to happen before sweeping, so get started on the furniture. I'll do the rooms on the far side of the hall while you do this side." I smiled with my own challenge. "But if I determine you've done a poor job, I want you to promise you'll go away and leave me in peace."

"I'll do both sides while you sit and have another cup of tea. If I do a poor job, I will let you take over. But if you get up before I'm done, I'll help you clean the entire house. In my finest clothes."

When I gaped at him, he bowed with a smile that was more threat than amusement, then left the room.