The Flute Keeper's Promise (The Flute Keeper Saga) by Ashley Setzer

Othella was only
too happy to keep him tied up with mysterious jobs. I tried not to let it
bother me. After all, it was good that Lev had something to keep him occupied.
He got restless and cranky whenever he was bored.
    With a sigh I settled into Lev’s
hammock. Chloe would be busy for a while yet and I had nothing better to do
than wait. I lay on my back and stared at the stone ceiling. Lev had taught me
that all Slaugh slept in hammocks. It was more comfortable on their folded
wings. They couldn’t sleep in a bed without lying on their stomachs and that was unheard of.
    “ Never leave your back open to
ambush .”
    Lev’s words flitted back to me like
so many lessons he’d taught me the past few years: “ Take nothing for
granted. Assume your enemy knows everything that you know. Don’t be afraid to
let go .”
    I had absorbed the lessons by being
around him, but I wondered what he’d gone through to gain such insights. The
dark notion that he was more than he let on bugged me again.
     Part of a map was etched onto the
ceiling. It was the labyrinth. Lev had been charting it in his spare time. He
had carved little notations and labels in a few places. They were in Sithean.
The fact that he was literate in the written language of Fay nobles had always astounded
me.
    The room was dark and quiet. I was
all alone. The opportunity to snoop was too tempting. I rose and lit a lantern.
It threw shadows all around. I saw nothing out of the ordinary in the dim glow.
Spare shirts and underclothes lay folded on the table. The shelf where Lev kept
his weapons was empty. Wherever he was, he was fully armed.
    There was nothing to snoop. I
chided myself. Lev was trustworthy. It was childish of me to be so suspicious. He
was my friend. He could never be more than that, so what did it matter if he
didn’t reveal every little thing to me?
    It always stung to admit it. By
choosing to serve Ivywild in the clergy, I’d defined the terms of our
relationship. Once I was inducted, there would be no going back. To renounce my
place would bring shame and banishment—just like my grandfather.
    I picked up one of Lev’s shirts off
the table. It was well worn with a few stains here and there. The cloth carried
the familiar scents of earth and boy...and something else. Puzzled, I took a
long sniff. This time I recognized the faint scent of the ocean. The fabric was
gritty with embedded sand.
    Curious, I rubbed some of the sand
between my fingertips. What reason did Lev have to be down by the ocean? Unless
it had something to do with W.R.A.I.T.H., it didn’t make any sense. Resentment
reared its head again. I felt excluded.
    Then I remembered that W.R.A.I.T.H.’s
head of research was just upstairs, next door to my own room.
               
    Bazzlejet was in his maid garb. It
looked as though he was supposed to be sweeping Chloe’s floor but instead he
was screeching a tune and dancing with the broom. He did not notice me as I
tiptoed in. I crouched beside a chest of drawers and watched him.
    Bazzlejet gyrated as he sang,
occasionally knocking perfume bottles off tables and stumbling over rugs.
    “Oopsie,” he said as his stuffed
bosom knocked a vase off a nightstand. The vase crashed and broke into pieces.
Bazzlejet looked around quickly and then swept the pieces under Chloe’s bed.
“To bad I’m not and Enchanter.”
    He looked around again to make sure
nobody saw. Chuckling, he congratulated himself.
    A buzzing noise suddenly erupted
from his dress. He jumped. After a few seconds he calmed himself. He reached
into his blouse and pulled out a closed clamshell.
    He flicked open the shell and said,
“This is Special Agent Hotstuff.”
    I sprang out and knocked him over
with a barrier. He toppled to the floor and the shell phone sailed through the
air. I caught it before it landed and put my ear to it.
    “What was that?” said an unfamiliar
female voice on the other end. “Agent Hotstuff, do you copy?”
    “Copy,” I said,