“You’re not intruding, dear. The lord of the house won’t know, and his son is out. Give me your cloak. It’s drenched.”
Now that I’m inside, the snow that gathered on my cloak is melting, soaking through to my skin. It’s a relief to peel it off. I take care to twist my wrist as I remove my gloves, so there’s no way to miss my golden sun tattoo. Most days, it causes me less trouble to hide it. Today, I want her to know: I’m notjust a poor servant. I’m Opheran. Infinitely more pitiable, and infinitely more trustworthy.
I’m in need of gossip. No one in Widow’s Hall seems to know anything about Kaidren, so I’m seeking it from the source. Who better for the Vale servants to gossip with than one of their own?
The woman sucks her teeth when she sees my tattoo but doesn’t comment. “My name’s Frida, dear. I’m the head housekeeper. What brings you here in this weather?”
I take a heavy breath and with my exhale release the story I’ve formulated. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am. I’m a new cook for Honorate Ruick. He made a request for dinner, but we don’t have all the ingredients and he hasn’t given me money to buy anything, so I’ve been asking around and everyone’s turning me away, and I fear he’s going to fire me—”
“Slow down, and calm down.” Frida puts her hands on my shoulders in a soothing gesture. “No one’s getting fired. Tell me what you need, and I’ll see if we have any to spare.”
“Leek leaves.”
“Is that all?” Frida smiles kindly. “I’m sure we’ve got some. Let me ask the cook. In the meantime, why don’t you rest up in the sitting room, dear? We’ve got a fireplace. You walked all the way here from the Ruicks’?”
Honorate homes are all above the Collar. They’re near enough to each other and Widow’s Hall by sledge, but on foot, a trek from the Ruick manor to here would be torture. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You must be freezing.” She leads me into the Vales’ sitting room. “Take a seat. I’ll fetch some tea to warm you up.” She motions for me to sit before the fireplace and scurries off.
The sitting room is curved into a half circle, with thefireplace on the rounded side. Oddly shaped rooms are common in Virdeian manors. They’re built into the mountain, so they’re often constructed to accommodate the mountain’s whims rather than their owners’.
A mint-green and silver patterned rug covers the dark wooden floor. The fireplace is wider than my arms can stretch, and as tall as my hips. A few paintings of landscapes hang over the mantle, but not a single portrait of a person or family.
Frida returns, balancing a tray of tea. I fake a shiver and take a cup. I’ve mostly warmed up by now—I wasn’t outside in my thin clothes for as long as I’ve led her to believe—but I need an excuse to stay and keep her talking. “You’re sure your employer won’t mind?”
“I swear. He’s practically dead to the world. Barely left his room in years.”
I blink rapidly, as though coming to a startling revelation. “This is Honorate Vale’s home?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. I’ve heard whispers about him.”
Frida chuckles. “I can imagine. The Vales are the talk of the mountain. Especially now.”
She means because of Kaidren. I try not to appear too eager as I take a sip of tea. Scalding hot, just the way I like it. “You said Mister Vale is bedridden, but are you certain his new son won’t find me here?”
“You don’t have to worry about him. He just left.”
“What’s he like?” I lean toward her, keeping my eyes round, curious, and clueless as a newborn calf.
“He’s kind. Which is rare here. Do you read the Shadow Queen?”
“Her column doesn’t usually make it to Ophera.”
“I thought as much.” Frida nods to my wrist. “He’s like you.”
“He’s Opheran?” I touch a finger to the golden sun. “I hadn’t heard.”
“The Shadow Queen just wrote about it. It caused quite a stir. He doesn’t even have a tattoo.”
“Really?” I shake my head as though awed. “I’ve never met an Opheran over five years old without one. When did Honorate Vale learn he had an Opheran son?”
“Just a few weeks ago,” Frida says.
My stomach ignites as she lies to me for the first time.
Casually, I drink my tea, musing over a way to coax out the truth without accusing her of lying.
