I wish Sami was here. Lance thought. Whatever Lothor said about her, he did not want to think about what she might be doing. Why she was in hiding. Going down that path led to too many complicated feelings, but he wished he knew how to find her.

  It had occurred to him more than once that she might be involved with whatever Master Gregor and Lord Aren were doing in some way, that she had been coerced into performing some duty for them. She was an armorer. She had regur contact with shadovane’s military…even some of their elites. It would make sense for her to become embroiled in some conspiracy to undermine the nobility. It seemed that was Master Gregor’s intent.

  None of that is going to help me, though. Is it?

  He waited outside the kitchens, just in the poured stone corridor outside the antechamber that led into them. He would have liked to be somewhere less exposed. Watching other servants pass by on their way to or from their departments ramped up his anxiety. They couldn’t know anything of his intentions, wouldn’t note him sitting there as anything unusual. It was hardly the first time he had taken post outside the kitchens waiting for one of his friends to get done with their shift.

  Still, he felt exposed. Vulnerable in a way he had never felt before. Knowledge, even as oblique as he possessed, was proving enough to rattle him. He had hedged about choosing someone, had run through so many scenarios in his head, costs and benefits of going to each of those he was close to, or trying to become close to, with whatever this was. He was still not sure he understood what Master Gregor’s intentions were, how he fit into the man’s designs.

  Ben was too new to him. He may have his opinions about the nobility, and those may be rgely negative, but how much trust could be had for someone he had known for so little time. Then again, there might be some benefit in bringing this to someone he had been entangled with for so little time.

  Ariana…she might handle all of it well, but she would see herself as his protector. If she went along with him, showed up in the Teacher’s Tower at the predetermined time, she would do so out of a sense that she needed to make sure he was safe. That he wouldn’t just disappear like Sami had.

  Lord Bran was on his mind. Any number of people might have wanted him dead, but the important ones were not without opportunity. They could have done him in subtly, should have long before he died. But Sami’s disappearance lined up too closely with his death. Absent evidence, there was no way for him to prove it. However weak it was, she did have a motive. He couldn’t see her as a killer. He had never thought of her as violent. But then why had she disappeared?

  If the Thorns were involved….

  Peter emerged from the antechamber into the hall where Lance sat. His gaze fell on him.

  A moment’s awkward silence, and Lance climbed to his feet.

  “I need to talk to you.” He said. “Somewhere private.”

  “Store room.” Peter said.

  Lance nodded. “That works.”

  They walked down the corridor to the dry storage room they so often used to py stones in the waning hours of the day, building up to curfew. Peter unlocked the door and gestured him through, falling into step behind him. He closed it, and secured the lock in pce.

  “What’s up? Are you okay?”

  Lance grimaced.

  “Did something happen?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Nothing to do with that guy you’ve been seeing.”

  “No. That’s going okay.” Lance said. “No, this is more complicated. To be honest, I don’t really know how to start.”

  “Did you—“

  “Ariana doesn’t know anything about this. And she can’t know. You can’t tell her anything, okay?”

  “Well, now you’re scaring me.” Peter eased onto an overturned crate near one of the many racks that poputed the room. He leaned his elbows on his knees, fidgeted with his hands. “You’re, uh…you’re not in trouble or something….”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s just with Sami…”

  “I….”

  “Maybe it’s better if I don’t know—“

  “No!” Static vibrated through Lance’s chest. What was he doing? He should just tell Master Gregor he couldn’t do whatever it was he wanted him to. Bringing someone else into this was a bad idea. It didn’t matter who it was, this could only end badly.

  He had chosen Peter because he thought he might know something about it. He was a kitune. Most of the furnace workers were too. Maybe his reasoning had been weak. His assumptions too presumptuous.

  He leaned against the rack behind him, finding small comfort in its support. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I think.”

  “This was a mistake.”

  “You don’t know that yet.”

  “I think I do.” He sighed. “Master Gregor asked me to meet him in the Teacher’s Tower tonight. He told me to bring someone I trust. I don’t know much more than that. Just that he wants to meet with me and he doesn’t want me to come alone.”

  Peter chuckled. “Must be a hazing thing.”

  “What?” Lance arched an eyebrow.

  “It’s not unheard of. Mistress Dina does it with her sous chefs. It’s a whole thing. Ariana was ready to piss herself when her time came due. I couldn’t tell her anything, of course. Mistress Dina would have been pissed if I ruined the surprise.”

  “What…what did she…?”

  “Nothing I can tell you about. It’s a kitchen thing.” Peter waved him off. “I’ve never heard of an interdepartmental thing, don’t get me wrong. But if it’s something like that, I’ll be there.”

  “Your sure?”

  Peter nodded.

  He felt somewhat more at ease, though he didn’t think Peter had the right of it. There was the matter of the odd line of questioning Master Gregor had lined up against him. Why bother asking him what he thought of the nobles? Why bother with any of it at all if it was just a pretext to get him to show up for some right of passage?

  “Okay.” He said. “But I can’t promise you won’t regret it.”

  “You can’t promise I’ll be safe either.” Peter said. “But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Like I said. It’s not unheard of.

  “When do you need me to be there, anyway?”

  “Tenth bell.”

  A crooked grin. “Count on it.”