“Well, that’s great!” Abraham suddenly shouts. “Having an attendant who is so close in age will be good, I think, for you kids.”
Atticus huffs in annoyance. “Father, I am twenty-four. I am not close in age to thisJulian.”
The way he says my name implies that he believes I am worth much less than him, but I recognize his tone. I think he may have been the one to answer our call at the gate earlier in the day.
“Well,Ithink he’s pretty,” Abigail interjects in a small voice. “Do you know how to braid, sir?”
I can’t hide the amused smile that shapes my lips as I stare back at the round green eyes that peer up at me from where she sits.
“I do not. Would you be willing to teach me?”
Abigail grins. “Yes! Most definitely yes!”
Abraham’s laughter fills the dining room, dancing along the grand paintings that hang along the walls and sliding across the marble flooring.
“It’s settled then! I think you two gentlemen will have a grand time here at Chastain Castle.” In a flash, his grin falls away, and his tone becomes incredibly serious. “I can assume that Oscar gave you the rules of our home? Specifically, the rules surrounding the west tower?”
My eyes immediately shoot to Atlas, who is staring down at his half-finished plate with a blank expression, aside from the splash of red coating his cheeks. Theodora places a hand over his, where it rests next to his cutlery.
“Yes, Master Abraham,” my father says. “We are well informed and completely understand.”
Abraham’s hazel eyes meet mine, and he waits.
“Yes, sir,” I confirm.
In a flash, his smile returns, and he claps again. “Great! Well, I’ll be seeing you soon, Jeremy. And Julian, please do let us know if you need anything.”
With that dismissal, Oscar turns on his heel and heads toward the exit: Hall E1. My father nods once and follows after him.
My eyes filter back to Atlas as I begin to turn toward the door as well, and I find him once again watching me with those curious, calculating eyes.
As our gazes collide, he smirks just slightly.
The next morning, I make my way to Abigail’s room. Oscar told me last night, as he sent my father and me off to our own quarters, that the first thing we are to do after readying for the day is to visit our respective family members and see if they need attending.
After I make sure the children of Chastain Castle need nothing from me, I am to begin cleaning the common areas on the second floor.
As I settled into bed after receiving my instructions and taking a much-needed shower, I noticed that along the wall next to my bedroom door were three bells.
They were all labelled W4, with the Chastain children’s names preceding it. When I asked Oscar this morning, just before beginning my trek to Abigail’s room, he told me that each Chastain has a cord in their respective bedroom, and if they pull it, it will notify me.
I am to assist them whenever the bell rings, no matter the time of day or night. They are emergency bells.
It struck me as odd, considering the police are a thing, and even as they live in a castle and speak impressively formally, it’s the twenty-first century. Surely the sheriff of Port Orford is better equipped to handle an emergency than I am.
But I’m not supposed to question my superiors, or Dad might have a heart attack.
As I approach Abigail’s door, I knock twice and wait for her answering shout.
“Come in!” she calls, and I crack the door open and slip inside.
“Good morning, Missus Abigail,” I greet. “Is there anything I can do for you this morning?”
The little girl is sitting in her bed, wearing a pale green nightgown with her blonde hair wild around her face. Next to her, sitting neatly on her rumpled comforter, is a stuffed bunny with brown fur and big blue eyes.
It reminds me of her brother, Atlas.
“Yes, Julian,” she says sweetly. “Would you please brush my hair and get my clothes for me?” She points to what I assume is her closet, and I make my way in that general direction.
