Chapter 7
She stepped into the house,the scent of chicken pie wafting from the kitchen in the back.
She hung up her coat but kept her bag with her. She would need it to pack some of her things.
“Dinner is over.” Betts met her in the narrow passage behind the stairs.
“That’s fine. I’ll take something up to my room.” Melodie didn’t like Betts, and Betts didn’t like her.
It was a circular problem.
She would have embraced Betts as a friend, as family, but had always been met with sulkiness and annoyance. She had finally worked out that Betts didn’t like her because she saw Melodie as an impediment to getting Vinest to marry her.
It was a pity it had to be that way, but now, it didn’t matter. She was leaving, and the thought of that, from the moment Theo had offered her a job, caused such a massive weight to lift off her, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed she was carrying it before now.
“No.” Betts blocked her way. “I control the kitchen. I say if you can’t be bothered to show up on time, you don’t get to eat.”
Melodie studied Betts with interest. Her face was flushed with anger and her hands were balled into fists.
Then she shrugged, turned, and walked away, back to the stairs. She would pack now. Leave now. The thought almost made her giddy.
Perhaps Theo would find a place for her at the barracks, or she could spend a night at the inn on the Kassia and Cervantes side of Illoa.
“Where are you going?” Betts was coming after her, hands still clenched at her side.
“What does it matter to you?” Melodie paused on the second step up to her room. “I’m not eating your food, so you shouldn’t care, either way.”
“What’s this about not eating?” Vinest stood at the top of the stairs.
“She doesn’t get food if she can’t be here on time. You said.” Betts looked up at him, mouth a tight line.
“Oh, Betts was most definitely following your orders.” Melodie gave a nod. The open hostility was new, but obviously Vinest had emboldened her.
“I was joking,” Vinest said. He looked past her down to Betts, and gave a tiny shake of his head.
Melodie’s ring warmed on her finger, and she looked up at him with a cheerful smile.
Liar.
“Well, Betts seems very set on my not getting any of her food, so I’ll go out for some.” She continued up the stairs, wondering if Vinest was going to move out of the way.
A tickle of fear snaked down her spine, because he could easily push her from where he stood. And he wanted to hurt her. Her ring told her as much.
But she would be no good to him, crumpled at the bottom of the steps.
“It’s not her food.” Vinest snapped the words, his look at Betts suddenly furious. “I say who gets it and who doesn’t.”
“And you said she doesn’t.” Betts wasn’t going to let it go. Vinest had tried to make her look petty and foolish, and she was refusing to play along.
“The food at the square smelled delicious. I just came from there. I’ll have a night out.” Melodie angled to the left, where Vinest had left a little space, but as she reached the top, sliding past him, his hand shot out and gripped her arm.
She thought of how Theo had held her in the same spot only minutes before, and the difference between them.
“A night out?” he said.
“After all, that piece I finished for Madam Renali took a lot out of me. It’ll fetch a very handsome fee. Enough for Betts to cook up a storm. Because I certainly won’t be getting much of a share of the payment, will I?” She glanced down the stairs, and Betts drew her lips back to show her teeth at the reminder of who made the money in this household.
“Who was the man?” Vinest asked. “The one who walked you home?”
“A friend of mine.” Melodie said.
“I didn’t know you had such . . . friends.” Vinest hesitated over the word.
She shrugged. “I’m twenty-two. Why wouldn’t I?”
“He looked like he was in uniform.” Vinest didn’t like the soldiers who came and went through town. She had always wondered why.
They didn’t buy jewelry, which was a mark against them from a jeweler’s perspective, but that was the only thing she could think of that wouldn’t be to his liking.
“He’s a lieutenant for the Crown of Kassia and Cervantes,” she said, and Vinest’s grip on her arm tightened enough to make her wince.
She tried to tug her arm away and he looked down as if he had forgotten he had a hold of her.
“I don’t like soldiers.”
She shrugged again. She could do nothing about his likes and dislikes.
“Is this revenge? Some petty game because you think I underpay you?” he asked.
“Revenge?” she drew back, eyebrows raised. “I went for a walk, met a friend, and walked back. What part of that is a game?” She looked him in the eye. “And I don’t think you underpay me. I know.”
“You will not go out.” His face had gone frighteningly blank, and she had to draw on all the courage in her to keep her face unmoved.
“Am I a prisoner here, Vinest?”
He finally released her arm. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean you can’t spend your free time as you will, but Betts made dinner and you disrespected her by not coming in in time.”
“I want more pay, so I can move out and get my own place.” She smiled at him. “I’m sure Betts would be as happy with that solution as I would.”
“Is this . . . friend of yours responsible for this new foolishness?” Vinest’s eyes narrowed.
There was no sense talking about this anymore. Nothing she said would make any difference, and she didn’t plan to stay anyway. Trying to negotiate more pay was a moot point, as was the squabble about food.
“No.” She moved past him and went to her room. She turned back to look at him from the doorway. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What about dinner?” he said. “I don’t want you going hungry. As you said, you worked hard today.”
“I told you, I’ll freshen up and then go back to the square and get some dinner from the stalls.”
“Nonsense. Betts has made a wonderful pie. No sense spending good money on food when we have plenty here.”
She extended both hands, palms up. “You refuse to let me eat, you order me to eat. Which is it?” she asked him softly, lifting one hand and then the other.
“I was angry you didn’t come home, especially after our . . . words earlier.” Vinest tried to look calm and fatherly. He was not succeeding, but she didn’t think he realized that. “I don’t want you to go out in the dark, and feel as if you aren’t welcome in your own home.”
“I don’t feel welcome here, and you’ve made it clear it isn’t my own home, or I wouldn’t have to account for my every movement.” She stepped into her room. “We can talk about this later, Vinest. I’m tired and I’m hungry and I don’t feel like arguing with either of you.”
She closed her door, and not for the first time wished she had a key to lock it behind her. Vinest had claimed it was lost, and when she’d asked for a new one to be made, he had looked sadly at her and asked if she didn’t trust him and Betts to keep her privacy.
She moved quickly, choosing sturdy trousers and shirts, plenty of socks and a few knitted tunics to wear under her coat.
She thought she heard someone outside her door and stopped, turning to see if Vinest would knock.
Instead, she heard the distinct click of a key turning in the lock.