“I have to see for myself,” I told her, steeling myself for what was to come.
She nodded and we followed the man into the room.
The room was as cold as outside, all white tiles and a silver metal table in the centre of the small room. A body-shaped lump lay under a white cloth.
“Are you ready?” the man asked.
Selene turned to me and I nodded.
“Is the face intact?” she asked.
“It is,” the man answered.
“Only reveal the face,” she instructed.
“Yes, of course. Identifying the body then? Think you might know who it was?” he asked.
Selene did not answer, and the man swallowed awkwardly and took hold of the white cloth.
He revealed the face and my knees buckled. Selene’s arm wrapped around my waist, holding me up.
Short brown hair, and the thin hollow face of a stranger.
“It’s not him,” I cried in relief.
“Let’s leave,” Selene said, guiding me from the cold, sterile room.
“Is that all?” the man asked.
“When will you have the results of the testing? I want to know his clan, and if his DNA or that of his relatives are in any system,” Selene said when we were back in the entrance space.
“The results should be back within three days,” he answered.
“Bring the results directly to me. No in-between. Do you understand?” she demanded.
“Yes, my Royal Highness,” he replied and bowed his head.
We left the morgue, but Selene did not lead us back to the mansion immediately. Instead, she led us to the Man at Work statue and the stone bench for viewing.
“Why would he have a photo of me?” I asked.
“I do not know, pet,” she replied. “It concerns me, but it might not be anything nefarious,” she said.
“Nefarious?” I questioned.
“You are my pet. There is a certain amount of attention that comes from being associated with me—an odd sort of popularity,” she explained. “In the past there have been those that have developed a sort of obsession, following me around, desperate to interact with me in some capacity. It is rare, thankfully, but not something I am unfamiliar with. You, my pet, since the summer, seem to have developed a following of your own.”
I looked at her, saw the corner of her lips twitch, and I wasn’t sure if she was suppressing a grin or grimace.
“A following?” I asked.
“Yes. Your arrival at the summer ball did not go unnoticed. You aren’t a noble. It seemed some put two and two together and miraculously got four. A non-noble wearing a custom dress made by the same designer as was my own, arriving in a vehicle chauffeured by my guard, and an off-the-record retelling of how close I kept my new pet—and well, there were a few columns following the ball that featured you and the suggestion that therejust might be something more than Mistress and pet going on,” Selene explained.
“What?” I asked, shocked. “Papers were writing about me and you never said anything? I never even heard anything, no one said a thing!”
I levelled an accusatory glare. I didn’t like the idea of people I didn’t know speaking about me—gossiping, really.
“I didn’t want you to be aware,” Selene admitted. “I forbade anyone with regular contact with you from speaking of it. Being in the public sphere—in the tabloids and magazines, pet —it is not always complimentary. It can be damaging to ones self-esteem to be exposed to so much opinion. Such scrutiny can be overwhelming.”
