Chapter 8 #3
“Particular desires?”
“Yes. BDSM, fetishes, role play, et cetera,” she rattles off casually as she nudges me in the small of my back into the room.
I’m almost afraid to ask, but I can’t help myself. “What’s the black for?”
“It means not to interrupt under any circumstances,” she says.
“Sounds like a dangerous rule to have.”
“Clearly, I do not make the rules here. Make yourself comfortable, but do not leave the room until I come back.”
“Wouldn’t want anyone mistaking me for the help.”
Taylor rolls her eyes and backs out of my room, closing the door and locking it from the outside.
I lean against my cell door and give the room a once-over.
Warm and perfumed air is pumped in from unseen vents.
Breezing past the four-poster bed, I avail myself of the luxurious bathroom.
Generous jets burst forth with hot water and quickly fill the mauve tub.
I soak in flowery soaps, submerging myself in the comfort.
It could almost be like home, here underneath the water.
But when I breach the surface, I am lost again.
The ritual of shaving is comforting and relaxing, though useless. Nobody even sees my ankles anymore, let alone any other hidden parts of me. Nonetheless, I am refreshed and feel more like myself as I splay on the bed in a fluffy robe.
About an hour later there is a knock on my door. Assuming it’s Taylor, I shout from the bed, “You locked it, hero. Open it if you want.”
However, in place of Taylor, a slim, faux-redhead appears.
She has the carriage of a doe, gentle, with wide brown eyes.
In her hands is a silver platter, atop it what looks like a feast. Carefully, she places the tray on my nightstand, puts her hands behind her back, and nods to me.
“Sorry for the intrusion. Ta—Eos asked me to bring your dinner up here,” she says, face full of apology.
“She did, did she?” The girl confirms this and I roll my eyes. Plucking the wineglass from the tray, I sit up and lean back on my free hand. “What’s your name?”
“Faith,” she replies in a quick chirp. Her face falls dramatically. “Oh my gosh, we are not supposed to tell people our real names.” She slaps her forehead. “It’s Jacqueline. I’m still not used to that.”
Ah, so this is the famous Jacqueline. I chuckle and take a sip of the wine. God, it’s so good. “It’s okay, Faith. Your secret’s safe with me,” I assure her with a conspiratorial wink. I cross the room and extend my hand. “I’m Lucy.”
She takes my hand and smiles. “I know who you are.”
“You do?” I’m not sure why this surprises me so much. I suppose I never gave much thought to other region leaders’ children, so I don’t know why anyone would care about me.
Her expression turns sly and frustrated. “Yes, I do.”
“Okay, well, it’s nice to meet you.” I don’t know if that sentiment is entirely true, or reciprocated. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
Getting information from someone who does not want you to have said information requires one of two approaches: force, or persuasion.
Knowing when to apply which is a delicate art, like glassblowing.
Air and pressure and heat. For Faith here, more a handmaiden than an Order soldier, the weapon is persuasion. “Why do you know Eos’s real name?”
Faith blushes, eyes frantic. “Why do I—I never said—”
“You almost did, though.” I smile. “It’s okay, Taylor has me under lock and key, and I’m in no position to snitch on anyone, am I?”
Faith licks her lips, still suspicious. “I guess not.”
“I’m curious. Taylor doesn’t fraternize with anyone and lives many states away, yet you somehow know her well enough to be on a first-name basis, and have access to her invaluable prisoner.”
“This is a prison?” She eyes the luxurious room with a bemused smile.
“Anything you’re locked inside is a prison.
Look, I’m not trying to get you in trouble.
I don’t get to talk to many people, especially not anyone who knows the woman with my life in her hands.
I want to get to know her better, so that…
” I sit back down on the bed. “So maybe she won’t kill me when this is over. ”
Faith nods, chewing on the inside of her lip as she mulls over what I’ve said. “I wouldn’t say I know her very well. I don’t think anyone does. Except maybe Mason, or—or Hunter. They see her all the time, but I only saw her over the summers.”
“The summers?”
“Yeah, they trained here every summer, the three of them. I didn’t see the others much, but Taylor was often in the library, and I was there a lot because I struggled with my studies,” she confesses softly. “The tutors here are stretched thin as it is, so she took it upon herself to help me.”
“Is that so?” Taylor’s people-patience is as thin as thread, so I can’t picture her doing the ABCs with a recruit. She has precious free time, so the fact that she’d willingly use it to help this young woman could be very telling. “So, you are not as close with Mason or Hunter?”
A shy smile creeps onto her face. “No, they were usually too busy. Taylor’s always been nice to me.”
“I bet.” Cute, fake red hair, beautiful caramel skin, nervous disposition. I chuckle. This is Taylor’s type. Damsels. Of course it is. “Why do you think that is?”
“I’m not sure. I think she needed a friend, especially after she lost Hunter. She’s…she’s about the loneliest person I’ve ever met.”
Taylor’s loneliness has always appeared to be a choice to me. “Hard to believe Theia’s protégé wants for companionship.”
“Being Theia’s second-in-command makes Taylor popular, but it doesn’t mean any of those people care about her. Surely you understand that, with how many people must’ve thrown themselves at you to get to Leader Piccolo?”
I do understand that. Proximity to power is intoxicating. It can seduce the most morally upstanding among us. “But you’re immune to that, are you? You want nothing?”
“Me?” Faith chuckles. “I don’t want anything from the Order. Delilah got me out of a bad situation, but I don’t want to be a soldier.”
“Then what do you want?” Or more accurately, who?
“I want to matter. To at least feel like I matter to someone,” she says, wringing her fingers.
“I wouldn’t expect somebody like you to understand, but when you come from nothing, and people treat you like nothing, all you want is to have someone care about you.
And Taylor, she isn’t just kind, she makes me feel like I matter, like I’m important.
In return, I—I am her friend. It’s the only thing I can offer her. ”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not wholly true. You work here, there is more you could offer her.”
“Clearly, you don’t know Taylor,” she dismisses with a snort.
“No, not as well as you do, obviously.”
“No, not as well as I do.” Her face suddenly lacks the cherubic innocence of before, but rather a stony expression has taken its place. A sludgy emotion crawls through my veins. “You assume because I’m a whore, I’m incapable of a platonic friendship?”
Well, she doesn’t mince words. I respect that. “No. I’m saying everyone is ‘friends’ until they’re not. Until a moment of passion or weakness, and then they’re much more.”
“I’ve never seen Taylor have a moment of passion or weakness.
” She sounds disappointed but covers it well.
“All she wants is this rebellion to succeed. So, I do what I can to help. Whether that’s the business, or being there for her, I make myself useful.
” Exhaling a shaky breath, she stares me down.
“You want my advice? Be useful to her. Become indispensable to the cause. Fight for her, and she’ll fight for you. ”
Long after I’ve finished my meal and the wineglass is empty, there’s another knock on my door.
Hopefully it isn’t Faith here to turn down my bed.
I’m not up for another tête-à-tête. With a full belly, I amble to the door and pull it open to reveal not the redhead, but the blonde who brought me here. “What do you want?”
She shoves a rucksack toward me and enters without invitation. “My room is the one next door.”
“During any part of this were you going to inform me we were taking shelter in a brothel?” I blurt out, tossing the bag behind me at the foot of the bed.
“I did not think it was necessary to warn you.” Her eyes meet mine with a furrow. “You do not strike me as the prudish type, Miss Piccolo.”
“I’m not, but a heads-up would’ve been nice.”
“Duly noted. I am sorry your dinner was brought to your room. It was not a punishment. I needed to make sure Delilah’s employees understood who you were and how you were to be treated. These people are Order, but I prefer to gauge their commitment myself than take Delilah’s word for it.”
“But you trust her,” I infer.
“With my life. I won’t take the same chance with your life.” She says this as if it should be obvious. “I found their trustworthiness satisfactory enough for you to be seen inside the building without issue, as well as to be left here without my supervision.”
“You trust a lot of the people here.” Eyes suspicious, her blond eyebrow climbs on her forehead in silent question. “The young woman who brought my dinner couldn’t stop saying such nice things about you.”
“Jacqueline.”
“Faith, Jacqueline, whoever she is, so precious she cannot leave the palace grounds.” I let a smug grin play upon my lips. “So, what makes her special? The air of innocence? The damsel-in-distress act she has going on? Does big hero Taylor like to be needed?”
After a brief spasm of emotion, her face settles into a cool facade. “My friendship with Faith is irrelevant, Miss Piccolo.”
“I find it relevant.”
“If Faith was forthcoming with you, that is her prerogative. I am not here to discuss her. I am here to discuss you. A subject you actually like.”
Irritably, I roll my eyes. “Fine. Need another bit of trivia to put in your holo-file on me?”
Taylor walks around the room to stand in front of me, hands clasped behind her back. “No, I would like to finish our game from the boat.”
“What?”
“The game you made us play. With the questions. Technically, I have one more question to ask you.”
Despite my anger, a damn traitorous smile weasels its way onto my lips. To combat this, I look away from her and toward the window. “I thought you knew all there is to know about me.”
“I believe I know the answer to this too.” She sucks in a deep breath. “Would you like to join me on the mission?”
My mouth flaps open and shut a few times before I muster the ability to speak. “Of course I do. How—what changed your mind?”
“I thought about what you said to me on the boat, about not having any choices.” She scratches the back of her neck. “And Delilah thought you should come as well, for extra protection. Since I trained you, I trust you—”
Pride balloons in me. “You trust me?”
Taylor rolls her eyes. “I trust you more than I trust a group of people who were not strictly trained under my tutelage.” My pride balloon deflates quickly and comically, bouncing around the room before flopping sadly onto the floor.
“I will brief you in the morning. For tonight, rest. I need you sharp tomorrow.” She pivots on her heel and begins toward the door.
“Hey,” I call to her, and she turns halfway toward me, twisting at the hip. “You owe me an answer, you know. About why you danced with me.”
She smiles shyly, and my body reacts without permission, heart fluttering.
“Eighty-five percent of the time, my choices are made for me too. My missions are planned, my decisions are critiqued and approved, my every move is tracked.” Taylor lifts her hand off the doorknob to jiggle her wristwatch at me.
“Dancing with you was the other fifteen percent.”