Meg bowed. The motion, deep and formal, was obedient. She turned to the butler. Her eyes, the green ones, conveyed a message. The 'let-us-discuss-this-privately' look of a woman who had things to say that the master should not hear.
"Then I will take them to the other room," Dorin said, reaching for the luggage.
"No," Viktor said. The word was sharp. "Leave them there."
Dorin nodded. The motion was curt. His single eye, glancing at Meg, conveyed a different message. The 'we-will-talk-in-the-garden' look of a co-conspirator.
They left. The door closed. Their footsteps, the dwarven tread that was heavier than human feet of the same size, retreated down the hall.
Viktor lay back. The bed, soft and old, received him. He closed his eyes.
"If I remember correctly," he murmured to himself, the words barely audible, "wasn't the academy going to need a maid?"
His lips curved. The smile, sharp and predatory, was not about household chores.
