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CHAPTER NINETEEN

“ L ine up, everyone!”

Mistress Ostere’s clipped voice pulled Xenia from her breakfast of chopped apples and oatmeal. She pushed away from the table and joined the line of servants along the wall of the staff dining room on Stoneridge’s lower level.

Feet shifted, stubble was scratched, and yawns were stifled as Mistress Ostere surveyed her charges. The staff woke early, long before the sun, in order to get the estate up and running for the Zephyruses and their guests.

“Stoneridge is going to be in a state of constant activity for the next month,” Mistress Ostere said as she paced back and forth along the line. “Preparations for Master Cael and Mistress Elodie’s wedding will take precedence over any of your regular duties. And I don’t think I have to tell you that, should you be drawn away to work on something for the wedding, you will still be required to fulfill your regularly duties afterward.”

The responding grumbles and huffs were quickly silenced when Mistress Ostere whipped her head in search of the source.

“It’s going to be a long, hard month, but I trust you will all uphold the reputation of the household during that time.”

Mistress Ostere stopped in front of Xenia. “I’d also like to introduce you all to Mistress Cirillo.”

Xenia almost didn’t realize the woman was talking about her. Mistress Cirillo was her mother. She was Sister Cirillo.

What an oddly out of body experience; being bestowed with a new title.

“She’s new to the household. I trust you will all make her welcome and provide any requested assistance as she settles into her duties and learns the rules.”

Something about the way Mistress Ostere said rules was quite ominous.

Xenia lifted her head, surveying the reactions of her new colleagues—a few kind smiles, a few lingering looks, even a wary glare or two.

Mistress Ostere folded her hands behind her back. “Off you go. Have a productive day, everyone.”

The staff filed out while Xenia stayed against the wall, nodding her head and muttering hellos and thank yous to those who welcomed her on their way out.

Once the space was empty, she found Mistress Ostere staring at her, head cocked. “You’re a bit more obedient than some of our previous newcomers. What’s your history, then?”

Xenia rubbed at her right wrist, at the empty space where her tattoo had been. “I was a Shrouded Sister in Thalenn before I…came here.” Such a simple way to describe her perilous journey.

“Praise Letha,” Mistress Ostere said.

“Praise Letha,” Xenia echoed quietly.

The woman stepped towards her, tugging at a stray curl. “You’re going to be a problem.”

“No, I?—”

“It wasn’t a question.” Mistress Ostere’s lips flattened. “The pretty ones always are.” The woman’s eyes flashed with concern. “What skills do you possess? I’m trying to figure out where I could best place you to minimize…temptations. Do you have any experience with gardening or landscape work?”

Xenia shook her head.

Mistress Ostere stood silently, waiting for Xenia to elaborate. When she didn’t, the woman sighed heavily. “I’ll have you assist with the housekeeping.”

Housekeeping. Xenia could manage that.

“Keep your head down and do your work. You can start with the offices on the first floor. Master Zephyrus and his sons will be leaving on business for the day after breakfast.” She gestured toward silver serving trays on the counter between the dining room and the kitchen, each holding a folded name card. “Then this afternoon, move to the bedrooms in the guest wing.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Xenia bobbed a curtsy and Mistress Ostere hustled out of the room.

Xenia lingered to examine the trays. Searching for one in particular.

When she found it, she peered into the kitchen, seeing if any of the staff had noticed her. They were all occupied wiping down appliances and cleaning dishes.

She plucked a pen from a cup, snatched the card with Cael’s name, and wrote a message on the other side.

She snickered to herself, wishing she could be there to see Cael’s face when he read it.

She returned the card to his tray and the pen to the cup, then smiled as she left the kitchen and headed to the upper floors to begin her first official day as a servant of Stoneridge.

The lingering scent of lethaphyll smoke crept up Xenia’s nostrils as she paused before Arran Zephyrus’s office.

She re-adjusted her bucket of cleaning supplies and pushed through the heavy oak doors.

Murky light spilled through the wall-spanning, two-story window, through which she spied a small army of servants landscaping the mist-covered meadow behind the lodge.

Preparing it for the wedding.

Xenia swallowed her deadline-inspired panic, placed her bucket by the door, and walked over to Arran’s desk. It had been organized since last night, the piles of documents now corralled into mesh bins.

After a swift glance toward the doors, she began rifling through drawers.

When she found the golden pistol with the long, needle-like spout, she reflexively smoothed a palm over the tiny scar on her neck.

Next to the pistol was a small cardboard box full of what looked like translucent grains of rice.

She pinched one between her fingers and held it up to the light. There was a trace of orange in the center, but the device was cold, lifeless. Nothing like the faint sub-dermal heat in her neck.

She wondered what activated the devices. A living body, perhaps?

She slipped the grain into her apron and shut the drawer.

Suddenly, the door swung open, spilling her bucket of supplies.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” A beautiful Beastrunner female with golden-bronze hair stepped into the room, freezing as she caught sight of Xenia.

Elodie.

Cael’s fiancée .

The polite shock on Elodie’s face melted into haughtiness. “What are you doing in here?”

Xenia wanted to throw her shoulders back and interrogate. Elodie had even less of a reason to be in here.

Xenia rounded the desk, eyes cemented to the floor. “Are you searching for Master Zephyrus, Mistress?” she asked in a meek voice. “I’m afraid he’s left for the day.”

Elodie scoffed, then crossed her arms. “Yes, of course I was looking for him. Why else would I be in here?” Xenia lifted her chin enough to note the unmistakable hint of panic in Elodie’s hazel eyes.

“Would you like me to let him know you were?—”

“No!” Elodie shouted. “No.” She turned on her heel and rushed from the room, stumbling over Xenia’s bucket. “And don’t leave your things just laying anywhere!” She shouted as she scrambled, red-faced, out of the office.

Xenia ruminated on the odd exchange while she dusted bookshelves, polished the leather furniture, cleaned the window, and emptied the trash bin.

It was only as she was leaving the office, about to shut the door, that she realized what had thrown her.

Elodie hadn’t knocked.