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Lila rolled into him. “So this sudden focus on breakfast has nothing to do with a certain blonde, rather absentminded astronomer?”
Dixon didn’t answer.
“You seem unusually interested in going to breakfast this morning.”
No response.
“You’re hungry? That’s all it is?”
Dixon nodded, a slight pink tint to his cheeks.
His dimples returned.
“If you were really hungry, then you’d eat something from the kitchen. Therefore, this has nothing to do food. You didn’t seem all that interested in breakfast with the oracle until Kenna mentioned that Blair eats with them before she goes to bed.”
Dixon’s heart beat a little faster near her ear.
Gods, he really did like her. Those beats meant feelings. Those beats meant butterflies. She wondered when Tristan had stopped feeling those same butterflies for her and when he’d begun feeling them for Katia.
Lila couldn’t help but feel as though she’d lost something.
“You like her,” Lila taunted gently.
Dixon snatched the covers and dropped them over her head, ending the conversation.
Lila giggled, a yawn interrupting her needling. Her eyelids fluttered, and instead of thinking of a new way to tease him about Blair, her thoughts turned to the mattress underneath her, the soft sheets, the warm volcano pressed against her cheek.
Soft snores lulled her into dreams.
The dryer’s timer jarred her out again.
Dixon startled, rushing from the room to gather his clothes. While he dressed, Lila took a quick shower, wrapped her damp hair into a bun, and dressed for breakfast.
When she emerged from the bathroom, Dixon tossed her his palm, an aggregated list of the day’s headlines filling the screen. Unsurprisingly, most were about her. Bullstow Drops All Charges against the Heir Who Wears Black read the New Bristol Times. The journalist claimed that a certain highborn had aided Chief Shaw in his investigation of the BIRD, trying to figure out how two hackers, both of whom awaited execution in Bullstow holding cells, had gained access. Not only had Shaw not confessed to hiring her until after the charges destroyed her reputation, but he’d also not found the hackers. He’d stopped Lila from investigating more deeply because he’d had an attack of conscience soon after she’d found the problem in the BIRD and patched it.
It was close enough to the truth to appease all parties.
The protests outside Bullstow had doubled. But instead of railing against the highborn or Lila, people now railed against Bullstow and Governor Lecomte, the latter for not knowing what his chief had done.
Tristan had even weighed in on the scandal, using one of his pen names to write an editorial. Mael Faucheux had torn Bullstow apart. Once again, the government had required assistance from the highborn families to function. As usual, Mael argued against such interference. The government should code their own software, rather than outsourcing the task to the highborn families, and if they could not develop it themselves, monitor it themselves, and guarantee the data’s safety, then they should not keep private records on the citizenry at all.
Lila might have been the only one to come through every article unscathed. At best she was a patriot; at worst, she’d only done what any highborn would do in that situation—seek an advantage for her family. There hadn’t been enough outrage to spare, given her tragic romance with La Roux. Quotes from Chairwoman Randolph dotted every article. According to her mother, Lila had been ferried away for some much-needed rest and relaxation at an undisclosed location, all so that she might recover after her lover’s death and the stress and mental anguish brought on by her recent trial. I have full confidence that my daughter will return to her family and her duties once she has had time to process recent events.
Jewel had weighed in as well. My sister never would have accepted a job from Chief Shaw if her lover had not pushed her into it. Of course, she hasn’t said a word about his involvement, for she would not deign to slander her dear, sweet Dorian in death, nor impinge upon his honor. But I know many people in New Bristol would understand the position those men put her in. Frankly, I blame them, and I blame Bullstow.
“Cute.” Lila returned his palm as they left for the oracle’s cabin. “My poo smells like lollipops and ice cream.”
Connell answered the doorbell, already dressed in his gray uniform. His boots padded softly across the rugs as he led them deeper into the house, toward the heavenly scent of eggs and bacon.
The oracle’s dining room bore some resemblance to the great house’s morning room. Windows filled two walls, letting in a great deal of light and a chill. A display case filled another wall, loaded with several sets of dishes and glasses, while a collection of paintings had been affixed to the fourth. Landscapes, horses, and people Lila did not recognize filled every available space above a bench, its back fashioned out of giant ship’s wheel. Two pillows and a blanket lay folded on the
end, seemingly abandoned, but not out of place for an oracle’s home. In the center of the room sat a table and two benches large enough to fit ten grown men. A purple rug had been settled underneath. Nearly two meters stretched between the table and the wall, plenty of room and cushioning should the oracle fall during a meal.
Lila wondered how often it happened.
“Mòr, your guests have arrived,” Connell called out as she and Kenna trudged in with a few pitchers of orange juice. They’d already dressed in their robes for the day.
“Splendid.” Mòr added her pitcher to the table. Platters filled its surface. They’d made dozens of biscuits, a vat of white gravy, scrambled eggs, and bacon. They’d also cut several cantaloupes and honeydews into knuckle-sized chunks.
