“Yeah, right,” I deride. “Three square meals a day and a private cabin? You’re about as Underclass as I am.”
Taylor narrows her eyes. “Look, do you want to see Claire or not?”
“So, they told you about me?”
Pitching an exasperated sigh, she runs her fingers through her hair. “I needed your usual whereabouts and general behavior to accurately predict where you would be during the ball.”
That does not satisfy me in the least. Who did she talk to? What did they say about me? Which of Papa’s employees is a traitor? I know they hate him, but how could they betray me?
“They were not fond of your father,” Taylor continues. “But they were fond of you.”
“Oh, complimentary traitors. That makes me feel better.”
“It should. The hatred for the Upperclass is something shared in every region, and it is potent. Do not disregard how important it is to be respected. And you do like to be liked.”
“Did they tell you that too?”
“No, Miss Piccolo, that is obvious.” She gestures toward the longhouse. “May we proceed?”
“Fine, but this conversation is not over.”
“Yes, it is.”
After an unfortunately brieftime in the kitchen with Claire, my day moves to obstacle training with Mason as Taylor attends to other duties. In the late afternoon I retire to the cabin, awaiting the arrival of my in-demand captor.
I am trusted in these hours, trusted to be alone in Taylor’s cabin and not escape. Trust, or the arrogant belief I cannot escape. Whatever it is, Taylor sometimes doesn’t show up for dinner, but Claire always does. Taylor doesn’t bother ordering herself dinner rations, so Claire’s taken it upon herself to feed the woman, and by proxy, me.
Armed with several baskets and containers, she bustles in the door and starts unpacking. “She’s out again?” Claire asks, plopping her bags down on the counter and popping open a storage bowl.
“She’s a busy beaver.” The air fills with a wonderful aroma of spices. “Wow, that smells incredible.”
“Fixed a real treat for you. Fresh oysters andvino. I made Taylor something else.” Claire arranges a plate for me and transfers another container to the nearly empty refrigerator. “This girl, I swear. Not even a cube of cheese in this fridge.”
I smile as I take my seat and dig in. “Maybe she’s trying to starve me out.”
Claire chuckles and settles on the stool next to mine. She pops open a stout thermos and the alcoholic fragrance of her beverage is briefly overwhelming. “Taylor’s a stubborn mule is what she is.”
“So,” I begin, hoping the liquor will loosen up the amiable chef. “You’re on a real-name basis with Taylor, and you know the combination to her lock. You must be quite familiar with one another.”
Claire nods. “I was on med duty the night they found her. Never seen an infant in such dire straits be so calm.”
“Found her?”
She takes a long pull from her thermos. “Terrible night. Couple of them were out doing rounds and heard crying in the forest. It was little Taylor, skin blue as the sky, wrapped in a thin blanket in an open duffel bag. Theia brought her in and we gotto work making sure she’d live through the night. But she didn’t cry, not once. Watched everyone like she understood what was going on. She’d already fixed that look. You know the look.”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod and tip the oyster meat down my throat. “The one like she’s trying to burn a hole through you?”
Claire laughs. “That’s the one. She had a rough first couple of days, but she pulled through magnificently. Then, Theia took her in, and here we are, almost twenty years later.”
“That explains their dynamic better.” I knock back a generous sip of wine and blink innocently. Claire is no harder to open than these oysters. That’s probably why they have her stationed here, because if she were elsewhere, she’d blab about the Order to anyone with a kind ear and a bottle of good liquor. “I thought Theia was her mother. They’re both so serious. And scary.”
“Mm, well, that may be true, but that woman is not her mother. Not by blood, anyway. Taylor was less dour before that hunter business.” Suddenly reticent, Claire pulls from her thermos and slides off the stool, collecting her belongings. “I should get back to the kitchen before turning in, make sure everything is ready for tomorrow. Enjoy your dinner, Lucy.”
“Thank you so much for the food. I can’t believe you were able to get oysters out here.”
Her eyes crinkle kindly. “Taylor never makes a request from me, so I was more than happy to oblige her.”
That’s news to me. Taylor gave no indication she knew Claire was feeding me at night. I figured she thought I was starving and didn’t care. “Taylor asked you to get me oysters?”
