A young woman half-crouched inside it, looking up at Simon with wide, anxious eyes. It was Artemisia von Lindt, and she was perhaps the last person he had expected to find hiding inside a closet.
“Lady Artemisia? That is you, is it not?” What in Luda’s name? Has she taken leave of her senses? “Might I ask why you are hiding in a closet?”
“No.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I mean!” He stepped back as Artemisia climbed out of the closet, brushing down her dress. Her face took on a haughty expression, but her red cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. “You may ask, but I’m not going to tell you.”
“I… see.” Does she think that will free her from speculation? My curiosity is only further heightened.
She was watching him closely, her teal eyes narrowed in thought. It wasn’t as dark as it could have been in the storeroom, as shutters had been left open on the upper part of the windows, allowing the late afternoon light to spill in. “Duke von Loambarn?”
Ah, I suppose I was staring at her too. “Yes? Are you quite alright, Lady Artemisia?”
“Um, yes, I am quite well. And you?” She shifted her weight from foot to foot.
“Yes, I am.”
What should I say? I wonder how she managed to get in here? I suppose the guard might have recognised her and assumed she was allowed in, but would he not have informed me there was already someone in Prince Fulbert’s gallery? She’s not the type for sneaking around, either. By the gods, I remember the scene she made at the von Jarlliard’s charity ball last year, belittling them for the disparity in the money they were donating to the poorhouse, and the extravagance of the ball itself.
Throughout Simon’s musings, Artemisia had grown steadily more uncomfortable, before finally blurting out, “I should be going.”
“Wait, Lady Artemisia. I should inform you that only those given permission by the first prince should be in here.”
Artemisia blanched and bit her lip. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know.”
“How did you enter?” Simon asked. “Did you ask the guard to stay quiet?”
“There’s a guard?” Artemisia fiddled with her hands.
Something’s worrying at her. How did she not see the guard? He wasn’t right beside the door, but she couldn’t have approached without the two of them seeing each other. Simon froze. Unless…
“Lady Artemisia, pardon my asking this, but did you enter through the double doors?”
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She made a stricken expression, telling Simon everything he needed to know. “My lady, if you don’t tell me exactly how you came to be in this room, I fear I may have to call for the guard, and he will call for his superior, and before long the entire palace will know of this.”
“What?!” Artemisia exclaimed, before clapping a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I mean, what?”
“Lady Artemisia.” I don’t take pleasure in pressing her, but if she got in how I think she did, this could be quite a serious situation. “Did you use the hidden door situated here?” He pointed to the wall.
“Ah.” Artemisia seemed to accept the situation, and raised her head towards the ceiling, thinking. “If I tell you, will you do me the favour of keeping it a secret?”
“It depends on what you tell me,” Simon said truthfully. “If your story threatens the security of Prince Fulbert’s private collection, I will have to speak of it.”
Artemisia made a strangled noise.
“What’s wrong, Lady Artemisia?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing.” She held a hand over her mouth and glanced away. “If that happens, could you not describe me as an anonymous woman?”
“Are you that desperate for your misstep to be kept a secret? If you meant no malice by it, what is the harm?”
“It would be really embarrassing.”
Hm. How blunt of her. “Very well.”
She sighed. “I did indeed enter through the hidden door. When I stepped away from the tour – I was on the tour, you see – for a moment, I found myself lost. I didn’t worry, as I assumed if I kept walking I would end up somewhere I recognised. Whilst doing that, I ended up in the corridor on the side of this wall, and accidentally triggered the mechanism for the hidden door.”
“Continue.” If I could tell whether she was lying, this would be so much easier.
“I entered this storeroom, and whilst I was trying to understand how the door worked, I closed it, and could not understand how it opened from this side. Is it a lever, or some sort of hidden button? Do you know, Your Grace?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“What does it matter to you?” It’s not like she would use it again.
Her face fell. “Yes, I suppose. Anyway, I came out into the art gallery, and I admit, I was quite entranced for a while. I checked if I could leave through the double doors, and when they were not locked, I assumed it was a gallery open to the public. Therefore, I took the liberty of looking around.”
“And when you heard someone enter, you hid?” Simon raised an eyebrow.
Artemisia looked sheepish. “I heard you, outside the door. You were quite loud.”
“Ah, I see. You heard me talking to der Seyrt,” Simon said. He brushed a loose lock of hair away from his eye. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to cause you distress.”
She seems to have meant no ill… I suppose I can let it slide, although I’ll have to keep an eye on her for a bit. And I will have to inform the prince, but I think it would just cause her anxiety if I told her that.
“Oh, it’s quite alright. I wasn’t supposed to be here anyway.” Artemisia dipped a curtsey. “Now if you excuse me, I should be going.”
“Wait.”
“Hm?”
“You said you were lost, did you not?” Simon extended his arm to her. “Would you let me escort you to the dressing rooms? It would be a shame if you kept wandering and missed the ball tonight.”
She looked flabbergasted. “Escort me? Are you sure?”
“If it would not trouble you.”
“I…” She looked upwards again, something that seemed to be part of her thought process. “Very well, then.” However, she did not take his arm.
Hm, she does seem to have changed somewhat, becoming more reserved in some matters and less in others. Perhaps those rumours I heard were not so inflated after all.
