I heard the rustling of fabric and glanced up. Penn crossed the room to the walk-in closet, opening it up and gesturing inside. “Graysen set this up for you.”
Shoving off the stone wall, my bitterness at my failure drained away as my narrowed gaze flicked about Graysen’s quarters to the tall drawers where clothes hung on a portable rack with rows of shoes stacked neatly beneath. I’d noticed them earlier but hadn’t thought about it. I assumed there mightn’t be enough space in the walk-in closet to store everything.
I sidled up beside Penn and peeked inside to discover Graysen had emptied the closet of all his belongings and changed it into a bedroom just for me. Low light glowed from recesses in the ceiling, reflecting off a full mirror on the back wall and onto the small single bed.
Wandering inside, I inspected the bedside drawer with a few books stacked on top and the wicker lamp.
“Why don’t you get dressed for the day?” Penn said before she left me alone, the door shutting quietly behind her.
I placed the armful of clothes on the end of the bed with its cozy blankets in yet again differing shades of gray. Then I unwound the towel from my body and dropped it to the floor. After pulling on underwear, I slipped on a flimsy summer dress in a lemony color. The skirt hung limply halfway down my calves. I adjusted the bodice, but it was too big, and a strap kept sliding to the edge of my shoulder. I was used to these oversized dresses, comfortable in natural fibers. But my mother would always get my outfits altered so they sat on my shoulders just right… And at the reminder of my mother, my family, had a sharp pang twinging inside. Despair, a leaden weight and unyielding, forced me to squeeze my hands so hard that my fingernails bit the soft flesh of my palms, the sting fierce enough to stop me from buckling to the ground and crying.
I wouldn’t break.
I wouldn’t!
I had vowed I would find freedom the moment my foot crossed the threshold of the Crowthers’ fortress last night. And that’s what I’d godsdamned do.
I was a Wychthorn from the Great House. I’d even hunted down the nest of the Uzrek from within the papered world of our family library, found a way off my family’s estate, and met the creature in person. This was no different. I just had a shorter time frame and needed a plan.
Resigned to the path ahead of me, I left my small bedroom and entered Graysen’s living quarters. Walking over to the dining table, I plopped down on the seat. I’d be useless without food. I required nutrition and strength to get me through the moment escape presented itself.
Penn lifted the silver teapot, and dark amber liquid poured from its spout, gently splashing into the cup, wisps of steam curling upward.
There wasn’t a sugar bowl sitting on the tray. However, there was… honey.
I huffed. Honey. Of course, Graysen knew that about me. Knew I preferred a teaspoon of honey in my morning cup of tea.
Asshole.
I dipped a teaspoon into the honeypot and stirred it into the tea. The honey melted off the silver spoon, and I went back for a tiny bit more, then one last dip before taking a sip of the sweet, floral drink.
I stabbed fruit chunks with my fork. Careful of my split lip, I slid the speared fruit off the tines with my teeth and tongue. I tasted nothing. Not sweet peach or pineapple or strawberry, simply chewing, like a cow on cud. I picked away under Penn’s watchful gaze, taking a few bites of toast I’d smeared with tart lime marmalade, my favorite—something else Graysen hadnoted about me. All of it was flavorless. Picking up the glass of water, I swallowed back a mouthful before straightening in my chair. “Can I at least leave this room?”
“No. Without him here…” her hand rose, and I realized she was pointing to my collar, “you’re still willed to these quarters.”
I heaved an exasperated sigh.
Penn collected the cloche and silver tray.
“What’s your name?” I asked, my fingers loosely gripping my fork.
“Penn,” she replied, turning away and heading toward the entranceway with quiet footsteps.
I bit back the irked retort that almost shot from my mouth and twisted around in my chair. “No, your last name?”
“It’s just Penn,” she answered politely, deftly balancing the tray while she opened the door.
My forehead creased with a frown. “What family are you from?” I knew nearly all the family names that made up the servants for the Houses. At home, there had been little for me to do except to read everything within our library and soak up as much knowledge as possible when I’d been tucked away in my father’s office while he worked.
Penn hesitated, wondering, I assumed, what to tell me. She offered me a small bite of information. “I’m not from any family.”
I blinked. Amortal?Was Penn amortal?We replenished our ranks when necessary, sometimes when we needed new blood within the Houses. But it was rare to invite amortalinto our world who was not a soldier.
I was about to ask when she slipped from the quarters.
And I was left alone in sudden silence.
There was only me in an unfamiliar room, swathed in dark colors and oppressive stone.
