“If this is some kind of game to you, Braxton, I swear—”
“Nothing like that,” he cuts in, his face still refusing to reveal any hint of emotion. “I have business I need to attend to.”
“Business?”
He nods. “Yes, and it’s time sensitive, so…” Braxton moves to close the door, but I stop him by pressing my palm flatly against the smooth oak.
“What kind of business?” I ask.
“I can’t discuss—”
“I still get three questions, whether you wish to walk me in the garden or not. So what business? You have to answer.”
“I don’thaveto answer any of your questions,” he snaps. “And this topic is off limits.”
My eyes narrow as understanding takes over. “So it has to do with the curse you put on me.” His jaw tightens, and I know I’m right. “That’s the only thing we agreed was off limits.
“Azalea.” There’s a warning in his tone, but I’ve reached the end of my patience.
“Fine.” I pull my hand away from the door and step back. “But I still get three questions.”
“Two?”
“Three. We agreed on three.”
“Yes, and you already asked me if Gravesley was joining us in the gardens which I answered. I’ll let the second question you asked pass since it is an off limits topic.”
“Oh, how generous of you,” I mock sarcastically. “So now any question I ask you can count toward my three questions?”
“If I so choose, yes, and now you’re down to one.”
Throwing my hands up, I bark out my next response before I have time to think it through. “Why are you such an asshole?” As soon as the question leaves my lips I pull them together tightly, wishing I could take it back, but knowing I wasted my last question for the day.
“Years of torment,” Braxton deadpans before slamming the door in my face.
“Ugh!” I scream, slapping my palms against the door before turning around and stomping away.
Any sympathetic emotions I once felt have completely disintegrated. I shove open a set of doors and begin pacing.
What business could he possibly be dealing with when it comes to our curse?
My feet stall in their pacing when I realize this is the second time he’s been busy with business in the last few days. Normally, I wouldn’t think anything of this, but Braxton has never been secretive about his business before. In fact, he’s only ever been secretive when it comes to our curse.
I can’t stop my mind from assuming the worst and wondering if he’s trying to alter the parameters of our curse. Even more so, I’m terrified that he might have figured out my ploy and is sealing the language of the curse tightly to keep me from finding any loopholes.
“Eh-hem.”
I look up at the intrusion into my thoughts. One of the kitchen staff is looking at me with a mixture of concern and annoyance. My eyes scan the room, realizing I somehow wandered into thescullery connected to the kitchen. It’s small and mostly meant for washing the dishes and storing dry ingredients, but there’s just enough counter space to do some creating in this room as well.
“May I?” I ask the girl as I reach for a bowl on the shelf above her head.
She waves her hand at me flippantly. “Just don’t git in my way,” the woman grumbles, before returning to the prep work she’d started before I interrupted her with my nervous pacing while my thoughts ran rampant.
My hands begin blindly grabbing at ingredients, somehow putting together a recipe as if I’m well-versed in the kitchen. I can’t remember the last time I even chopped a vegetable for myself, yet here I am letting my hands lead me through a recipe I have no memory of.
When my fingers curl around a wooden spoon, I hear the woman clear her throat again. Looking over, I see that she’s holding a small metal whisk out to me.
“I think ye’ might find this a little better suited.” There’s a heavy lilt in her words, telling me that she’s not native to this land. I gratefully take the utensil from her.
