Wren: Singapore. Oh, and Raine, don’t start any actual fires.
Me: I’m not you.
Wren: One grease fire and no one ever forgets about it.
I smile at my phone as I put it in my pocket and head back around for my whale of a bag. I pull it up to the door,then get the other one. It’s not the front door, maybe, but it’s a door, oak with a giant knocker in the middle of it. It’s like a snake or a tail, I’m not sure. It’s as shiny as the golden turrets. I grasp it in my hand. It’s cool, like a blast of ice to my sweaty palm. I knock once, not loudly, but when no one comes after a few minutes, I begin to doubt I’m at the right door. I’m definitely in the right place. At least, I hope I am.
That little seed of doubt takes hold and starts to grow. My stomach tightens, and I shuffle between the balls of my feet. Right, I should knock again. “Right?” I pick up the cool metal in my hand as the door opens, and I’m dragged inward a half-step.
In front of me is a... butler. He’s a butler. From every movie where they have butlers. Tuxedo coat, buttoned-up white shirt, cummerbund.
“Hello.”
“Good afternoon. Miss Fischer.” He looks beyond me to the empty circular driveway. “Where is your driver?”
“That’s a good story. He dropped me off on the road and sped away.” I hold my hand out, but the man is staring at the empty driveway behind me.
“Why would Percy do that?” His pointed nose arches down at me.
“Percy? I think his name was Hans.” I squint, trying to remember what it was on the app.
The old man’s face softens. “You didn’t take the car I sent for you?”
“You sent a car? Oh... No, I’m so sorry.” My stomach twists again. I need to not mess this up. Opportunities like this don’t happen to people like me.
“It’s fine. I will message him shortly,” he says in such a way that it makes me feel it’s anything but fine.
He holds the door open, and I step in with just mybackpack. I glance back at my whale of a bag and manage to get it through the doorway where we haven’t moved but two feet inside.
A boom from somewhere over the castle rattles the window glass.
“Ah, best get in, the rain’s going to––”
“My bag.” I push past him, racing for the tan behemoth. And then it starts to rain. But not just rain, more of a downpour, like turn-the-faucet-on-to-warm-up-the-water-on-full-blast rain. I dart out and grab my second bag. Dragging more than muddy gravel with it, I’m no longer sticky with sweat. Nope. The rain has penetrated my denim shorts and my comfy white cotton shirt that I thought was so fashion forward. It’s showing off my flowered bra.
“Leave them there. Percy will bring them up to your room later.” His eyes flick over the dented and scuffed twenty-year-old bags. He looks anywhere but at me. “I’m Leopold.”
“Oh, you’re the one I’ve been emailing with. It’s nice to meet you.” I put my hand out, this time with water droplets hitting the stone floor. “I’m sorry. I’ll get something to dry that up.”
“Much worse has happened on this floor. I will take care of it. I’ll show you to your room, where you can get dry.”
Much worse? I look back at my suitcases.
“Percy will be along shortly. And there are some things in your room for your convenience.”
My hair’s plastered against my face. I tuck dark strands behind my ear. I should have cut it off last week, but packing up and getting everything ready for six months in Europe... it took some time. And my time vanished partly due to an endless string of questions from my endless string ofroommates wondering how they were going to manage without me.
“This way, Miss Fischer. I’ll give you a proper tour later,” Leopold says, followed by another boom. This one shakes me down to my toes. “On second thought, let’s use the grand staircase.” He motions me in a different direction, pivoting us away from a well-worn set of stone spiral stairs. “This way.” The steps of his thick-soled shoes clack. My sandals, on the other hand, make more of a squishing sound.
The narrow hallway opens up through a set of double doors into an atrium that makes me stop. There’s another shake, then a rumble from the hallway behind us. Leopold’s head tilts upward, his large nose wrinkles, and his shoulders square as if he’s bracing for something.
“Leopold, what is that smell?” a loud male voice echoes through the space.
2
RAINE
“Come this way.” Leopold nods at me, and not following is impossible.
