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“Got yourself an early night then, didn’t you?”

“I did.” She nodded. “It was...well, it was a very full day yesterday. I found myself quite tired and took advantage of not having any annoying engagements last night.” She smiled over her teacup. “It was a refreshing change, I’ll admit.”

“So it was a good day yesterday, then, was it?”

Maelin managed not to moan at the memory of Cyrus, his hands, his mouth, his...everything. “Yes, thank you. It was indeed.”

“There was blood on your shoes, Miss Mae.” Inky stilled beside the bed, the merest tips of her tentacles twitching a little.

Maelin blinked. “Uhh...there was?” She hoped she’d poured enough surprise into the question.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Well, coggles, I must have picked it up from somewhere. I was on the wharf for lunch as you know...there are all sorts of things going on there. Fishermen all over the place. I’ll wager that’s where I must have walked through it. You know how they are over their catch...they spread those poor dead fish along the planks. Quite messy.”

“Quite.” Inky still did not move. “However, this wasn’t fish blood.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. It wasn’t.”

Maelin swallowed and stared at Inky. “In that case I am at a loss to explain it.”

Her tickerkin stared at her for a long moment. Then sighed.

“Fortunately, I was able to clean it away. No trace left.” She leaned close to Maelin. “But next time you return with blood anywhere, I’m going to have to say something. And it may end up with a warning for you to stay away from Cyrus Drake.”

“What the coggles is that supposed to mean?” Maelin straightened, catching her teacup as it wobbled.

“It means that he has a reputation, Miss Mae. Mixed. Some think he’s a saint, others despise him. Gloamtide puts a lot of faith in him, and Caelemar society is curious, jealous, and afraid of him all at the same time.” Inky leaned back and relaxed her tentacles, her equivalent of a gusty sigh. “Which means he’s just the sort of man you would find intriguing.”

Maelin thought about that, turning her tickerkin’s words over in her mind. “Well, I’ll agree with you on something. I do find him intriguing. Very intriguing. He’s got a deep well of kindness inside him that he hates to show, an ability to judge whether a kind word or a sharp rebuke will get the job done, and he kisses like...well, like I never imagined possible.” She lifted her chin and stared at Inky. “Make what you will of that, but I shall continue to see him. In fact, I might just end up marrying him. There.”

“All of that in...what...two meetings?”

Maelin chuckled, warmth spreading through her as she recalled the day before and a certain small cabinet. “Yes. All that. And I’m not even sure if it took the whole two meetings.”

Inky shrugged with every tentacle. “I should’ve guessed. You’ve a mind of your own, Miss Mae. Just try and stay out of trouble, all right?”

“Trouble? Me?” Maelin blinked innocently. “Of course, dear Inky. Today I shall be the perfect young lady.” She paused. “I plan on visiting Uncle Phineas actually. Can you make the arrangements? I don’t even know where he is, come to think of it. Would Aunt Varelle know?”

Inky thought about it. “His club, probably. I’ll arrange for the aethercoach. And whether Lady Theryn would know? I reckon it’s more a question of whether she cares.”

“Let me guess. The answer to that is no.”

“I’m not going to be the one to find out.” Inky moved back from the bed as Maelin shifted beneath the covers. “But while you’re bathing, Miss Mae, I will make a few subtle enquiries just to confirm your uncle’s whereabouts.”

“Bless you. I’d ask Darady, but she might not understand that it’s a request I’d prefer remain very quiet.”

“Then I’m your tickerkin. I can do quiet.”

Maelin couldn’t help a laugh. “I know. It’s an aspect of your personality that I particularly admire.” She grabbed a tentacle and nuzzled it, knowing that Inky was particularly ticklish there.

As expected, there was a muted squawk. “Miss Mae, stop that,” laughed Inky. “Annoying girl. Either go and take a bath or eat the breakfast that’s on its way.”

“Mmm. Food. I’m hungry.”

But whether her appetite had been stimulated by her restful night’s sleep or the wonderful dreams she’d had about a certain inscrutable lord, she wasn’t quite sure.