Please not me,I thought, feeling the familiar tightness in my chest. Maudoric was nowhere near as terrible and stern as Wrezaan had been where I’d grown up…but I could never shake the terror when anyone showed their displeasure toward me. It crawled up my spine and wrapped around me like a suffocating embrace. So I did anything I couldnotto tempt anyone’s ire.
“Erina,” Maudoric said in her low, unreadable tone.
My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. And yet I pasted on a bright smile that felt too wide on my face. “Yes, Head Keeper?”
“Come with me.”
Velle shot me another look, and I was certain my loud gulp echoed throughout the entire kitchen, as silent as it was save for the pot of simmering stew and crackling bread, fresh from the oven.
My legs felt wooden and hollow as I stumbled after Maudoric.
Her eyes scanned over me, starting at my worn boots before inspecting my too-big apron. When I reached her, she went through the kitchen door and I followed. Before it even closed, I heard the eruption of whispers and wanted to sink into the stone of the hallway, in a puddle at her feet.
She went far enough away until we were in a private alcove near one of the spiral stairwells that led up to a smaller library.
“TheKyzairehas requested your presence at his morning meal.”
My heart jolted. I had wondered when I’d see him again. I’d told him I would give him an answer today, but I hadn’t expected he would send for me first thing in the morning.
“He’s taking it on the garden terrace,” she said. “I’ll bring you to him.”
Though nerves began to rise, I realized what Maudoric had done for me. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked, frowning.
“For not announcing that to everyone,” I replied quietly.
Maudoric tilted her chin back slightly. I’d always thought her a beautiful female. She was a Kylorr with light gray skin and perfectly symmetrical features, though they were all a bit too severe. The lines in her face had deepened even since I’d come to work at the keep a couple years ago. I’d sketched her once in pencil, though I’d always been too nervous to show her.
“It is theKyzaire’s business. And yours. Not the keepers’,” she told me, her tone clipped. She’d always disproved of the gossiping, though every House I’d ever worked in had taken part in it. It was natural. I knew that better than anyone.
But I also knew that Maudoric was loyal to House Kaalium. She’d worked in this keep longer than Kaldur had been appointedKyzaireto the region. Of course his privacy would be paramount to her.
I said nothing else and followed Maudoric through the quiet keep. I was surprised that Kaldur was awake so early. I’d always assumed he slept into the afternoons, hearing rumors that he stayed up until dawn, whether it was due to his work or the bed partners whose company he kept.
The East Terrace was beautiful, situated toward the back of the keep, farthest from the sprawling towns of Vyaan andoverlooking the magnificence of the House’s gardens. I knew that Kaldur kept a team of talented horticulturists at his disposal, to keep the grounds in perfect condition, which had always surprised me. Until I’d learned from other keepers that his mother had been quite fond of plants and flowers, had kept the gardens of Laras meticulously. I always felt warm and fluttery when I remembered that.
I liked that he was close with his family. I liked that he kept his own gardens carefully in memory of his late mother.
It’s a testament to his character,I’d decided long ago. It was one of the reasons I admired him.
When I stepped foot on the East Terrace, a cool breeze swept through my hair, releasing a few wavy tendrils. I felt his gaze on me before I spotted him. He was standing at the far end of the terrace banister, made of cream-colored stone mixed with gray swirling lines, his wings resting comfortably at his sides. He’d been overlooking the gardens, watching as two horticulturists trimmed back a smattering of starwood blooms down below, readying them for the winter season. But he turned to watch me, those silver eyes shrewd as I approached the small table, set for two, after Maudoric gestured me forward.
“Thank you, Maudoric,” Kaldur said, the low timber of his voice in the early morning feeling like a sin. He strode toward me slowly, never looking away, and the graceful movement felt more like a prowl. I bit my tongue, the sharp pain giving me something to focus on as I tried to calm my racing heart.
Maudoric faded from the terrace silently. Kaldur eyed my state of dress, and I was only slightly embarrassed to note that he was in a very expensive-looking vest—emerald in color with silver catches—over a light gray tunic, only a few shades darker than his skin. On a few of his fingers were silver rings, inlaid with black stones. His black pants were neatly pressed, and there wasn’t a single scuff on his shining boots.
He looked refreshed, not a single hair out of place, like he’d slept the entire night without tossing or turning once.
Where I was painfully aware that I looked as tired as I felt in my drab uniform, hidden by an even uglier apron that was two sizes too big for my frame, and half of my hair had already come loose from my braid.
“Were you worried I wouldn’t feed you when I asked you to join me for the morning meal?” came his question.
I blinked. I was still trying to get my bearings, still overwhelmed by the handsome portrait he made. The green was particularly eye-catching, and I couldn’t help but notice that it was a green similar in color to my prized vase—which, in the end, I hadn’t the courage to steal back to my rooms after I’d cleaned it up. Instead, I’d carefully placed the shards of pottery in an empty drawer until I steeled up my nerve.
“What?” I asked.
He gestured to my hand. When I looked down, much to my mortification, I saw the slice of bread I’d taken from the kitchens, one very obvious large bite taken out of it.
