Shadow Touched

36. NAIMA

The day goes by in a blur. I prance, and I preen, and I smile, and I want to stab myself in the eyes. But I don't. And that is the true feat in all of this.

Finch acts as my overgrown shadow. Everywhere I step, there he is. When I turn or I pause—he's there. I take a breath? The man is there. Always just within my eyesight, as if to remind me there's no escape.

Mercifully, we return to Mirrador Castle an hour after sunset. My feet ache from the ridiculously uncomfortable shoes I've been forced to wear all day. Finch probably suggested them to one of my Lady Maids. All the better to ensure I don't run off—as if a pair of heels could stop me.

My shadow silently walks me back to my rooms. All day, he's only spoken to me when absolutely necessary. Guiding me here. Updating me on the next stop. Advising me as to who I'll be seeing. He's been more valet than Captain of the Guard. A thought that pleases me to no end.

We round the corner to my rooms where two new guards stand at attention on either side of the door. Both men wear more weaponry than is customary for a castle guard—far more than last night's guards.

I don't bother to say goodbye to Finch. Instead, I kick off my heels as I walk through the doors, leaving them to fall shut behind me. I reach behind me and begin to wrestle with the buttons on my gown. The sound of a throat clearing draws my attention. I spin around to see Finch standing in the lounge. The doors closed behind him.

"Gods, don't tell me we'll be bunking together now."

"Not up for braiding each other's hair while we talk about cute boys?" His voice drips with sarcasm.

"What now, Finch? I'm tired. It's been a long day."

"I'm well aware of that." He responds, levelling me with that thousand-yard stare of his.

"Just a few housekeeping notes." He gestures for me to take a seat. How long are these bloody notes to be?

I flop onto the closest chair, which happens to be the one where my late dinner lays. I grab the crystal decanter filled with red wine and, foregoing a glass, take a swig; as I do, I motion to Finch to go on.

"Such class," He mumbles. I ignore him, taking another swig from the decanter.

"Ahhhh."

He rolls his eyes at me. Or at least I assume he does. I'm too busy downing the wine to pay him much mind.

"I saw that you clocked the additional weaponry on the guards outside."

I give a nod as I continue to drink. My eyebrows rise just enough to say you've piqued my interest without saying it.

"I have had the Royal Guards placed on high alert, as the current situation—"

"The Gloaming," I interject as I swig from the carafe again, pausing to grab the shawl I left half-thrown across the table. The room is unexpectedly draughty.

"Situation..." He repeats the word, emphasizing it. "...continues to evolve. This afternoon, a...missive was received from Lord Solditch." The wine slips from my hand, knocking against the table.

Okay, Captain, you've got my attention.

I place the decanter back on the table and sit up straight. Finch notes the shift in my demeanour. For the first time today, I realize his aloofness might have been more than his normal distaste for me. I wrack my mind quickly, trying to recall a moment when he wasn't acting as my shadow. Damn, he really is good at his job.

It doesn't matter. For the first time since my return to Athecca, there's news from Solditch. My heart hammers in my chest as I wait for Finch to go on.