Nim pressed her lips together and adamantly refused to let her gaze slip toward Allister, who watched from near the doorway. She cleared her throat. “My, that is quite a station for one so young. Tell me, does the seneschal employ many personal messengers?” The boy’s brows drew together. “He said you’d try to wiggle information out of me.” “Wiggle?” “Aye,” the boy said. “‘A woman like her will be wilier than you give her credit for.’”
