Strange how excited she gets for a man she hates so much, or… no, she’s just excited for me.
“I’m going to read. Bye.”
“Bye, dear.”
I sling up the phone and sit back onto my bed.
That didn’t feel awful. One dinner isn’t proof that I’m tied down to my home. I live here now, and that will change as little from a dinner at my mother’s as it would a lunch at a diner.
…I forgot to eat yesterday! Fuck. I jump out from my puddle of comforting blankets and flee into the rain to find a meal.
Chapter 12
The Wilting Carnation
“You went out early,” Mistress Vincenza comments as she unlocks the front door to let me in.
“I thought I should have breakfast, Mistress,” I whisper.
“Then it’s good I gave you a key,” she says. “Do you have any arrangements after the store closes?”
“Not tonight, Mistress.”
“A treat. You’ll be accompanying me as I make some purchases. Stay on good behavior, and I’ll take you to an empty lot to get you familiar with the car.”
I jump into a straightened and aristocratic posture. “I absolutely will, Mistress.”
Her posture is instead broken as she softly laughs. “No matter how many times you repeat ‘Mistress,’ I cannot take you seriously with anellini on your shoulder.”
“Oh, what—Sorry!” I sweep it off.
“You even got some sauce in your hair. Let me.” She retrieves a handkerchief, brushing at my shoulder. “Did Stella not give you any sort of loose cloth?”
It’s possibly demeaning, but in some way she cares enough to clean me up herself instead of making a demand, which places a strangely fluffy feeling in my heart.
“No. Uh, and th-thanks, Mistress.”
She cleans up a final hair strand and steps back. “It’s your own preference, but I’d recommend learning to tie your hair. It will only ever bemandatoryduring ritual casting, though.”
I run a hand through it. “I don’t know how.”
The gentle tones of her voice finally lift away, giving precedence to her foundational authority. “You’ll be shown how.”
“When?”
“Unless you want itnow, then it’ll be when you need a ritual done.”
“I choose now?”
“Great Ring’s mercy on this woman,” Mistress Vincenza mumbles. “Sit down in the armchair. I’ll grab some string for you.”
The moment demands I hug her, but in lue of that, I instead give her a grand smile as I submit to her request. “Thanks, Mistress!”
Armchair’s still as comfortable as it’s always been. Even nicer after a half hour of walking. Could be nicer with waffles. Maybe I’ll have some for dinner.
Mistress Vincenza worldlessly enters the circle of bookshelves and steps behind me. Her fingers slowly run over my scalp and through my hair—finding several knots that I apparently missed.
“C-could you be slow?” I beg.
