Thirteen #6
Speaking of self-awareness, I was aware that I had a job to do.
I started across the green, angling for the small door at the base of the building, just above the foundation stones.
That was the door that would lead me directly to the kitchen, where the people I needed to see were likely to be found.
The door opened on a cool, dim hall, the air heavy with the faint petrichor taste of an underground passage.
Here, the seasons outside barely changed anything.
It was cool in the summer and warm enough that your fingers wouldn’t freeze in the winter.
More, it was effectively invisible to the nobility—beginning with most of the knights and ladies of the court.
They were barely titled according to the hierarchy, but it was enough that they wiped the world belowstairs from their minds.
I’d always considered that to be short-sighted.
It was also, on occasion, dangerous. Oleander de Merelands had been able to infiltrate the knowe by masquerading as a newly hired member of the kitchen staff.
Since the hiring would have been done by someone higher up in the household, all she’d needed to do was avoid attracting too much suspicion before she was ready to start killing people.
I was reasonably sure that was also how she’d been able to infiltrate King Gilad’s court, back before the 1906 earthquake had given her the opening she needed to assassinate him and begin the destabilization of our kingdom.
It’s possible to take feudalism too far, is what I’m saying here, and Faerie does so on a fairly regular basis. We never met a bad decision based on perceived hierarchy that we didn’t want to embrace with disastrous gusto.
I made my way slowly down the hall, not creeping along, but not hurrying to announce my presence either.
I was allowed to be here, had been invited on multiple occasions, and was well-beloved enough by several members of the senior staff that I would never get in trouble for trespassing on their private quarters.
And I remembered belonging here as recently as eight months ago, when the staff had treated me wholly as one of their own.
Whether in or out of Titania’s enchantment, this was where I’d spent some of the best parts of my childhood.
The servants at Shadowed Hills had always been happy to welcome me with a mug of hot cocoa and a plate of sandwiches.
During the times when I’d felt isolated from both my mother and Sylvester, they’d been there for me, always.
Which made me hate what I was about to do even more than I would have otherwise.
If Athan was telling the truth about the person who’d helped them find Raysel, I was going to find them here, probably in the servants’ quarters. And I didn’t want to.
The sound of voices drifted down the corridor from up ahead, some of them laughing, some chattering merrily away. Dishes clattered and silverware clanked, and I was almost to my destination.
Then I reached the doorway and stepped around the corner, looking into the vast, familiar shape of the main kitchen at Shadowed Hills.
Hobs were stationed at the multiple stoves needed to feed a household of this size, some stirring pots, others sliding trays into and out of ovens; others stood by the counters, chopping and readying ingredients for the next round of dishes to be prepared.
And in the middle of it all, like a conductor before an orchestra, stood Melly.
Melly, my old friend, practically family in every way that mattered.
She was calling orders to a young pastry chef with flour on his elbows and in his hair.
He was grinning virtually ear to ear, and it was clear that whatever was happening, it was a merry and gleeful thing.
Melly half-turned, adjusting her field of view to encompass the other half of the kitchen, and jumped when she saw me standing in the doorway. One hand went to her chest, clutching a handful of fabric just above her heart.
“Sweet Oberon, October, you shouldn’t sneak up on me like that!
” she exclaimed. “You could have given me my death of fright, and then where would you be? Explaining to Kerry that she needs to give up having her own bakery and come home to Shadowed Hills to take over from her dearly departed mother.”
“You’re not going to die of fright. If you were, I would have killed you years ago,” I said.
She shook her head. “You’re right, of course. But it seems like I might, when you go on so. What are you doing here, October?”
“I need to talk to some people. Rayseline’s missing.”
She paused, but not long enough: I’d known her for most of my life, and I saw the way she glanced to the side, assessing her routes out of the kitchen.
My heart sank. There was only one reason I could think of for her to look so suspicious when I’d just told her that our mutual liege’s daughter was missing, and that was if she wasn’t surprised.
If she knew.
Sylvester didn’t have a formal chatelaine, but Melly came close. Melly would have been the one to prepare a room for Raysel, if it needed to be done; Melly knew everything that happened in the duchy.
Melly held all the secrets.
“The poor lamb,” she said unconvincingly.
I took a deep breath. “Melly?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Is Kerry your only child?”