Page 69

21
Tatum
Yawning,I stepped into my bathroom and stared in the mirror. After a long day of hosting duties, my makeup had begun to streak, and my hair was tangled and messy from the wind. My limbs felt heavy and awkward with exhaustion.
Aside from that, the hostess position was going surprisingly well. It was a lot easier than I thought. All I really had to do was talk to the men and pour the occasional drink. Of course, I had to be gracious and charming as I did so, and I had to wear certain outfits, but it was still a lot simpler than I thought it would be.
I’d worked the last three evenings as well as during the days, but tonight I’d been told I could rest and relax instead. Apparently Tobias would be coming by my room soon to explain more of my upcoming hostess duties to me, but after that I’d have free rein to read, take a warm bath, and sleep.
My ears pricked up at the sound of a knock on my bedroom door. When I didn’t immediately answer, it turned into a series of frantic bangs.
“I’m coming,” I called out, drawing my brows into a frown. I opened the door to see Elias. He was wearing a set of black robes and rubbing the back of his neck. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead.
“Tatum, we need to talk. Now,” he said. I’d never heard him speak so fast, words tumbling out in a frenzy.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“This whole thing isn’t wh—”
He was cut off by another masculine voice. “Elias, what are you doing here?”
We whirled around to see Tobias striding up the hall toward us.
“I’m here to see my slave, obviously,” Elias replied, his tone and demeanor changing instantly.
“Well, you’ll have to wait. I have to take her for a couple of hours to explain some of her new hostess duties to her.”
I noticed one of Elias’s hands was clenched into a fist by his side. His face was reddening too. “I’ve barely seen her these last few days. She’s still my slave, and I want to use her.”
Tobias let out a disdainful sniff. “She has the night off, so you can spend time with her after we’re done with our discussion. I’m sure you can wait a couple of hours.”
Elias pressed his lips into a flat line. “Right,” he finally said. “It can wait.”
“Good.” Tobias looked at me. “Tatum, let’s go for a walk.”
He headed down the hall, and I followed him. I turned my head over my shoulder to see Elias staring at us, an intense expression hardening his features. His eyes were over-bright, feverish, and his posture was stiff.
As I rounded the corner with Tobias, I saw him mouth something at me. I thought it was ‘I love you’ but I realized a moment later that it looked more like: ‘I’ll save you’.
Tobias led me downstairs and through a wide hall before stopping outside a familiar doorway. “After you,” he said, waiting for me to step through.
It was the trophy room I’d discovered that day with Pri. I did as Tobias said and headed inside. He ushered me over to the far side, where a trophy cabinet sat next to the enormous doll collection.
“Not long until you get your own made,” he said stiffly, nodding toward the dolls. He was pretending to be polite, but under that thin veneer of civility was a pit of black animosity. I knew he was pissed that the other men had voted for me to be the hostess for this festival, and he’d been outvoted.
I didn’t quite know how to reply to him, so I stared awkwardly at my feet instead.
“Did anyone ever tell you how this tradition started?” Tobias went on, gesturing toward the dolls again.
“No, sir,” I said quietly.
“About a hundred years ago, the society had a council member named Jack Galbraith. He was very close with his mother. She loved collecting antique dolls. Sadly, she died quite early. As a tribute, Jack brought her collection here so it could be admired and appreciated by many people, which is what his mother always wanted. Her dolls are the ones at the very back,” he said, pointing them out for me. Then he motioned down to an inscribed plaque on the bottom of the cabinet; one I’d never noticed before. In memory of Mary Galbraith.
“That’s a nice story,” I said, surprised that I wasn’t lying to him for once. It really was quite sweet.
“Of course, most of the other members didn’t exactly want a doll collection here for no reason other than that someone’s beloved mother died,” Tobias went on. “So a new tradition was born—the doll-making after the festivals, to honor our hostesses.”
He paused for a moment, then reached in and carefully picked up a doll with flowing red hair and a midnight blue gown. “This was Anna Sarich. I quite liked her. She was with us about ten years ago.” He held the doll out to me. “You can look.”