The pieces of the music box had gone clattering onto the desk. He’d snatched them up and stuffed them into the pocket of his waistcoat. “It’s not what it seems.” She looked down at the scuffed toes of her boots. “That they were floating of their own accord? Of course not, Master Nikolai.” “I could make you forget what you saw.” He raised a finger to his temple. She trembled. “No need, sir. I promise I won’t tell a soul.” “How can I trust you?” “I read tea leaves, Master Nikolai. I don’t fear what you do.” Nikolai lowered his finger. “You read leaves?”
