"My dress? There's only a shift beneath this."
"Be grateful you have that much. I need it now."
"First tell me why."
"Shall I tell you over tea and scones, or in the seconds before my father has us all killed?"
Simon faced the wall while she undressed, though she muttered a string of curses that lasted the entire length of time it took to remove the dress and hand it to me. My tunic acted as a clumsy half-shift, and I left the trousers on beneath the skirts, with the ivory-handled knife tucked out of my reach. The key to the diary was safely in my shoe. The diary itself was hidden beneath my tunic, and when Trina wasn't looking, I set it into a deep pocket of the dress's apron. Trina pulled a quilt from off my bed and wrapped it around herself while asking what she was expected to wear now.
I didn't know. I didn't care.
"Where were you all night?" Simon asked.
"Are you my interrogator or protector?" I replied. "Come with me. We must hurry!"
He sighed and threw an apology back at Trina, who was still muttering threats at me, then we entered the corridor. I wanted to run, to push past every servant we saw and get into the library, but I couldn't draw that much attention to myself. So we walked. Quickly.
"Your eyes are red," he said.
"Yours are brown. What of it?"
"You know what I mean. You've been crying." His voice was gentle, but his timing was terrible. He could accuse me of practically anything right now, and I'd be guilty.
"If anyone asks, it's only tears of joy to be back at Woodcourt again."
"But it's not just anyone asking. It's me, Kestra."
I huffed. "And who are you, Simon, that I should trust you with an answer?"
At the base of the stairs, he stopped and took my arm, forcing me to look at him. "I'm your friend, or, at least, I'm trying to be." His brows were pressed low and he was studying my face as if deeply concerned.
Was he sincere? Because I desperately needed someone to talk to, someone to trust. I needed him to stay with me even after he knew everything, and to take my hand and promise that it would be all right.
But he wouldn't say that, not if he knew. We could never be friends. And now ... anything more ... was impossible.
I pushed away from him and continued walking. "Stand watch outside the library. If anyone tries to come in, make a noise to warn me and slow them down."
"Why? What are you doing in there?"
I entered the library without answering him and quietly shut the door. I pulled the diary out from the apron pocket, then crossed the room to the desk, where it had been hidden. My father's tablet was on top, with an image of the oropods in motion, and a description of them beneath the picture. I knelt beside the desk to peek underneath it. Gerald had not given any details as to where the diary had been hidden, so I'd assumed the placement would be obvious, but now that I was here, it was anything but.
The underbelly of the desk was a series of boards fitted tightly together. Nothing could be hidden here, certainly not a book! Was this Gerald's way of trapping me? No, I had to believe that he meant well by giving me the diary, though at the moment, it seemed just the opposite.
I pressed on the boards, hoping to find one that was loose or that might be a false bottom, furious with myself for not asking how to hide this again.
"Sir Henry, good morning." That was Simon's voice!
"What are you doing here, boy?"
"Looking for your daughter, sir." He was speaking loud enough to warn me, but risked giving away that this was a signal. "She hoped to have breakfast with you this morning, to update you on last night's meeting with Sir Basil."
"Oh? You were there too, I assume. How did it go?"
"Very well," Simon said. "I think your daughter will soon find herself in love."
Was he talking about Basil? I'd sooner learn to love boiled intestines. Or was he just stalling, hoping to keep my father in the hallway as long as possible?
There was no time to continue searching for the diary's proper hiding place. All I could do was slip it between some books on a nearby shelf and hope it went unnoticed. I'd come back later this afternoon, or tonight, and try again.