three knocks
669 Words
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*Chapter 5: Three Knocks*
The tea was almost gone.
The silence was almost comfortable.
And then—
_Knock. Knock. Knock._
Three sharp raps.
Palace rhythm.
Lilith’s cup stopped halfway to her mouth.
The man across from her didn’t blink. But every muscle in him went still.
Lilith set her cup down. Slow.
“Are you expecting company?” she asked, voice flat.
“No,” he said.
But his hand was already under the table.
Not on a weapon. On nothing. Like he was checking that it wasn’t there.
Another knock. Louder.
“Lilith of the rose cottage? Open up. Guard business.”
Ah.
So they knew her name.
Lilith stood. Her knees didn’t shake. They never did.
She glanced at him. Mud on his boots. Cut on his temple. Royal coat.
He looked like exactly what he was: a problem.
“Stay,” she mouthed.
He raised a brow. _Here?_
She jerked her chin toward the pantry door. Small. Dark. Full of flour sacks.
He could have left.
The back window was right there.
But he didn’t.
He chose to stay.
To inconvenience her.
He slipped into the pantry without a sound.
Lilith exhaled, wiped her hands on her apron, and opened the door.
Two guards. Young. Tired. Spears too clean for real work.
“Evening,” she said. Calm. Doe eyes.
“Have you seen anyone?” the taller one asked. “Man. Tall. Dark coat. Missing from the banquet.”
Lilith tilted her head. “A man? In mud? No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure I’ve been picking roses and baking bread all day.”
She let the scent of it drift out. Sweet. Domestic. Boring.
The shorter guard peered past her.
Table. Two cups. Kettle still warm.
His eyes narrowed.
Lilith followed his gaze and shrugged. “Company came by. Left.”
“Who?”
“A trader. Bought jam.”
A lie. Smooth. Boring.
The guard looked like he wanted to push in.
Behind her, from the pantry, came a _thump_.
Flour sack.
Lilith didn’t flinch.
“The mice are bad this season,” she said. “They knock things over.”
The guards exchanged a look.
“Right,” the tall one said. “If you see him, send word. He’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Drugged. Desperate. Could be armed.”
Lilith nodded. “I’ll keep my door locked.”
They left.
Boots receding down the path.
Lilith counted to ten.
Then: “You can come out.”
The pantry door opened.
He stepped out dusted in flour.
Looking furious.
Looking alive.
He stared at the two empty tea cups.
At her.
At the door the guards just left through.
“You lied for me,” he said.
“I lied for my floorboards,” Lilith corrected. “Dead men bleed.”
He huffed. That almost-laugh again.
“You’re terrible,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
He walked back to the table. Sat.
Picked up his cold tea and drank it anyway.
“My name—”
“Still not ready,” Lilith cut in. But her voice was softer now.
Outside, the night was quiet again.
Inside, the kettle was empty.
And two people who should not be in this together
were very much in this together.
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