“Going somewhere, Jules?” Cas asks. His voice is strained. I don’t need to look at him to know he’s frowning at me, but for once I’d like to get out without a huge fuss—or worse, end up with an entourage.
“Going for a walk. That allowed?”
“The boss will have my balls if you go out without me knowing.”
“Well, now you know. Your balls are safe,” I snap. Cas raises an eyebrow and I relent. He doesn’t deserve my bad mood. That’s all on Sylvie. “I’ll stay in the compound,” I bargain softly.
He makes me wait a tense twenty seconds before asking, “Where?”
“The maze.” At least I hope that’s the part Ben wanted me to pick up on.
“Do you know your way through it?”
“No, but it can’t honestly be that difficult?”
“Hard enough. I’ll turn on the lights for you. You can follow them in and out. If you promise to stay in view of the cameras, I’ll let you go without security.”
Cameras? “They have them in the maze?” Cas raises his brows again but this time I see the matching humour in his expression and can almost hear his“what do you think?”I chuckle and nod. “Of course there are cameras in the maze. Okay, I’ll stay in view. I won’t be too long.”
“Okay. Oh, and Jules.”
“Yeah?”
“I got all of that on camera.” He gestures upward towards Sylvie’s room. “You okay?”
I chuff. “I’ve had far worse.”
Cas’s responding frown makes me uncomfortable. “For what it’s worth, I saw you holding back. I realise how hard that must have been.”
“She’s still a kid. One that knows jack-shit about anything,” Why am I making excuses for her? I let the sentiment hang between us.
“If ever you want some training—self-defence, ways to get out of holds, quick ways to escape attackers, etcetera—just give me a shout. I’ll be happy to help.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you.” My response is instinctive. A polite dismissal so I can escape Cas’s all too knowing gaze. Yet, as I march out of the open Orangery doors and onto the rear lawn, I think about what that would entail. Learning to fight? No, aggression wasn’t a path I wanted to choose but learning to protect myself—learning how to get away safely. Yes, that sounds like something I really need.
A gust of chilled wind swipes in from the east and makes me glad for the hoodie. I tug the collar up over my nose and roll the sleeves over my hands. It’s still afternoon, but the weather is turning. The long light days of summer are gone, and the nights are folding in much earlier, bringing with them the chill of autumn. The sun curves low on the horizon. The greenery still feels unnatural to me. Unspoiled, cultivated, aromatic, and expansive, like I’ve somehow slipped into a dream world.
This is the type of place I’d fantasised about as a child. Large open parkland, trees as far as the eye can see, the unmistakable smell of bark, and the damp earth beneath my feet. Even the air has a clean, crisp scent that stings when the breeze buffets my face. It is everything I’ve never known and a reminder of just how removedthis reality is from mine. Of how far Dax’s world is from my own.
I cross the lawn diagonally, expecting someone to shout at me for walking on the grass. The maze rises out of the ground from the bottom of the visible garden. From Sylvie’s tour, I’d learned that there were a series of secret gardens on the grounds; some tucked away behind walls, and others appearing like mirages between the trees. At the southernmost point, there is even a large man-made pond with koi carp as long as my arm, and five years my senior.
For someone like me, Trevainne manor is a treasure trove, or it could be if I remember to take five minutes out of my mental chatter and anxiety to appreciate it.
I like the idea of a maze. The notion of hiding in a place that is, by its very structure, a haven from prying eyes, deeply appeals to me. Admittedly, less so now that I know it’s dotted with cameras.
As soon as I step inside the confines of the box hedges, the lights switch on. Hidden at the base of the path, they shine through the foliage as though the bushes themselves are lit from within. At the first right-angled turn, a black camera swivels to face me.
I take a deep breath and wave up at it. The lights flicker off and on in response. Am I meant to feel safe? It’s intrusive. I can’t even be alone for a moment. Even the phone in my pocket tracks my every move. I wonder why that isn’t enough. Why do they need to watch my every step, even while confined in the garden?
My mind throws me a flash of the Coffee house. I see the men waiting by the cars to take me. The memory is as clear as being there. God. I’m such an ungrateful bitch. That’s why I’m watched. Those men are the reason Dax and Aiden have cameras on me. If it takes a lack of privacy to keep me alive, I should be thankful for it.
I follow the lights obediently, but enviously, stare down every path that veers into the darkness, wondering how deep the dead-ends venture. I’m tempted to take the chance and find out.
I hear the centre of the maze before I reach it. A rushing sound. Water crashing against water warns me I’m close. The lastright turn reveals an ornate fountain, not over-large and surprisingly modern in style. A woman with a tall, vulpine body and tendrils of hair falling to the side of her head, arcs in an eternally graceful pose to pour water from a small vase into the wider pond at her feet. She is made of the most exquisite, coloured glass, as is the fountain base beneath her. Inside are a dozen glass roses formed into the base of the bowl. The whole thing sits on a sturdy concrete plinth with a plaque of polished brass. I squat down to read the words etched there.
“The smallest kindness can have the deepest ripples.”
Celeste Trevainne
