His expression turns a bit uneasy.
“Oh,” I say, guessing the reason. “He wanted to talk to me alone.”
“There’ll be more at breakfast tomorrow,” is Yuri’s roundabout way of saying, “Yes.”
Once the tour is finished, we stroll back to my room at a slower pace. I don’t want to stay there alone but I’m also not very good company. “Where’s the room I was in last night?” I ask. “With the fireplace.”
He leads me there, my brain still not producing a map outside of my room and the next corner. There are so many offshoots from so many long hallways that it’s impossible. Add that to the broken compass in my head and I’m glad Yuri is going to be on hand to guide me.
Aside from the general annoyance of living under someone else’s control, that is.
The room is just as comforting by day as it was at night. Especially when I spot that someone kindly replenished the decanter. I grab it, ignoring Yuri’s glance of surprise. If I’m to be a prisoner, then I intend to be a drunk and annoying one.
A plan I abandon when I return to my room and discover that lunch arrived while we were out. There’s a thick-cut loaf of grainy bread with a tang of sourdough but not overwhelming. An enormous platter holds slices of meat, two half rounds of soft cheese, and a variety of thinly cut vegetables.
There’s a glass jug filled with juice and beaded with condensation and under a cloche hide two large slices of carrot cake, coated with a liberal spread of cream cheese icing.
“All of this is for me?”
“Us,” Yuri says, sitting in a chair that looks miniature compared to his massive frame. He pours a glass of juice for each of us, then nods to the food. “Help yourself.”
Despite having overeaten at breakfast, I make serious inroads into the generous lunch, too. I move into the bathroom to wash my hands while Yuri organises the table to be cleared.
When I walk back into the main room, it takes all of three seconds to work out the decanter was confiscated at the same time.
“Well, this is bullshit.” I make a mental note that the next time I steal alcohol, I should drink it straight away. “Back to the study,” I announce, walking out of the bedroom.
Yuri shakes his head. “If he wanted you to have it, he wouldn’t have taken it away.”
“But I’m not a child,” I explain with far more patience than the situation deserves. “If I want to douse myself in spirits to forget the awful things that have happened to me, I shall.”
“Go ahead, then.” He waves along the corridor. “Find yourself a bottle and do your worst.”
“Fine.” I take three steps to my left, then stop, turn on my heel. Perhaps it was to the right? “Can you tell me if I’m getting warmer?”
“You’re an adult. You don’t need to play childish games.”
“I liked you a lot better when you didn’t say anything,” I tell him, crossing my arms and trying not to throw a tantrum, guessing that wouldn’t add anything to my argument. “If I promise not to drink, will you show me the way back there?”
“If you’re not drinking, you don’t need to find the study.”
“But I liked the fireplace, too.”
He laughs so hard, he snorts. “Then I’m definitely not showing you back there. We’ve got enough trouble without you trying to burn down the house.”
“Ugh. Give me something to do, then. What’d you do all day when you’re not stuck with me?”
“I guard other people. Escort them places.”
“Steady on. You’ll make me too jealous.”
“I work out.”
“Yeah?” I poke a biceps so large it probably needs its own circulatory system. “Can I watch you do that?”
“No.”
“Where’s the gym?” I ask, interest stirring at the hope it’s nearer the city. Not for today but thinking ahead. It makes sense to lie low right now but, in a few weeks, if Baxter is still being pig-headed, I might need to expedite my departure.
