“It feels like it should be.” She shrugged. “It’s too quiet. No one talks, you know? I’ve been here a whole month and I’ve not made any friends. Acquaintances, yeah, but nothing real.” She shook her head. “You’re probably the last person I should be complaining to,” she said.
“Why shouldn’t you complain to me?” I asked. “I understand what you mean, I was just thinking this morning—where was everyone? But I think it’s just colder—physically—than I’m used to. People probably don’t want to socialise much when you might lose a toe from being outside too long,” I joked.
“A Southerner like you doesn’t know the cold. It’s not even true winter yet,” Katrina laughed.
“You’re the second person to call me a Southerner. I don’t consider myself from the south. I’m from the east coast, next to House Maria,” I told her.
“Anyone from further south than House Borealis is a Southerner to us,” she explained.
“What House are you then? I thought you would be Borealis,” she asked.
“I am House Borealis and I guess Ardens now too, but I wasn’t from any House before the Princess purchased me,” I explained.
“Were you a nomad flower girl?” she asked. “That Cliffwind dude was excited about you.”
“No, well, we used to be nomadic, long before I was born. I’m from an independent community,” I explained.
“An outlaw group?” she asked, her eyes widening with excitement. “I’ve never met one of your people before.”
I cringed at her words. “We’re not outlaws,” I said. “We’re just outside the House system,” I explained.
“That’s a nice way of describing yourselves,” she teased.
“We aren’t outlaws!” I argued, offended. “We’re not criminals. We live peacefully beside our neighbours.”
She raised her hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just learned in school that during the civil war there were groups that weren’t on any side other than their own. For the right price, they’d fight for and help anyone. Worse than mercenaries, because they had no loyalty and would turn on their current employer if a better opportunity showed itself. The outlaw groups couldn’t be trusted.”
“What about that isn’t offensive?” I asked. “Maybe there were groups like that, but we aren’t and never would have been one of them. We’re fishers. And we pay our tax to House Maria for the land. We’re not criminals.”
I was outraged. I was more used to people assuming we were backwards and stupid, but I hadn’t been called a criminal before. No one had accused me of being untrustworthy.
“Alright, alright, sheesh, I’m sorry. Okay?” she asked.
I took a breath to calm myself and began to hear the murmur of voices from the meeting room. I nodded to Katrina.
“Where are you from, if you haven’t been here long?” I asked, changing topics back to her.
“I’m from Ardens, Featon Town, not far from here, really,” she told me.
“Is it a big town?” I asked. She nodded.
“Yeah, like twenty or thirty thousand of us. Used to be a mining operation. Not so much anymore. We’re almost back and should stop talking now, but do you want to hang out sometime? I’m usually off work in the evenings?” she asked me.
I hesitated. We hadn’t really had the best conversation, but Ardens Estate felt like a lonely place.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, truly,” she added and wrung her hands together.
“I’d like to hang out sometime, yeah,” I told her and smiled, hoping it showed I had forgiven her. I mean, how well could you know someone from one conversation? She smiled brightly in return and held her fingers to her lips as we approached closer to the meeting room.
11. The Maze.
Persephone Flores
I buttoned up the cardigan Selene had left out for me. Our room was warm, the fireplace burning bright, but the rest of the mansion was cold. Not worryingly so, but uncomfortably so all the same.
I watched as she added a log to the fireplace. “It will keep the room warm for when we return,” she said as she stood up and dusted off her hands. She wore a suit, Borealis blue, tailored perfectly to her frame—wide-legged trousers, an open blazer revealing a tight white top that stopped short revealing her navel.
“It must be nice to never feel the cold,” I joked, as I pulled up my trouser leg and fixed my thick socks. In comparison to Selene’s sleek, smart look—matched with silver hoops, and my bracelet that always seemed out of place, but that she never removed—I was scruffy. I wore light grey pencil trousers, white trainers, a long-sleeved white top, and a grey cardigan to match the trousers.
