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“You’re in for a treat, friends,” Connell purred as he stole a kiss from Mòr. “I had a hankering and made my famous gravy. And, of course, my darling made her biscuits.”
“You cook?” Lila gawked at the oracle. Highborn and most elite lowborn had servants for such things. She’d always thought the oracle lived in the same manner.
“Of course I cook. The compound only runs well if we all pitch in. It’s the same with our homes. Some of us cook. Some of us clean up after. It gives us time to chat in the morning and the evening.”
“More than just chatting.” Connell cupped his lover’s cheek.
“Yes. Sometimes we have exhausted colleagues over for breakfast.”
“Nico’s just worried. He pulled two shifts to cover for me yesterday. He’s always going to know when you’ve been ill. I can’t do anything about that. I should have made breakfast for him, rather than the other way around.”
“You just like his hash browns.”
“No, I love his hash browns. You do too.”
“Sit down both of you. We all love his hash browns,” Kenna grumbled. “As I explained yesterday, Lila, we do have a chef on the property. She and her crew cook a small breakfast and dinner in the cafeteria for those who do not have the means to do so for themselves, usually the elderly and the unattached militia. They also make lunch for everyone. I encourage you to eat there this afternoon. Perhaps it will help you get a feel for the compound.”
“We go in shifts, though it’s more of a guideline than a rule,” Connell added, tearing his eyes away from his lover. “Security, admins, kids, everyone. Eating together binds us as a group. It makes us a community, a family.”
“Eating together also makes it easier for a mole to snoop,” Lila said. “If you know where everyone is going to be and when, then you can move around freely.”
A bearded man in a gray security uniform trundled in, bearing a platter of hash browns, golden and crisp, heat steaming off the pile. Its bearer had not gotten much sleep, judging by his red eyes. Perhaps he had not gotten much sleep for several days, for his uniform was wrinkled and his scraggly beard had not been trimmed or combed. Patches curled to the side and outward.
He put down the platter in the middle of the table, his eyes slipping to Lila and Dixon. “Mystery guests?” He held his hand out to Lila, giving hers a firm shake. “I’m Nico.”
“I’ve heard of you. Your hash browns are legendary.”
He grinned, not taking his eyes from her face. “You jest, but you have no idea what you’re in for. They’ll change your world. Soon you’ll be knocking on my door at all hours, begging me to make you a fresh batch.”
“Will I?”
“Yes. I’ll save you the trouble of asking. I live in cabin twenty-four.”
“Take it down a notch, Nico.” Connell snorted. “You don’t even know her name yet.”
“I’m—”
Static filled the room, cutting off Lila’s introduction. “Monitoring to Chief Connell, monitoring to Chief Connell,” a woman said though the haze.
“Damn it.” Connell dove for the radio in his chair and depressed a button on the side. “Chief here.”
“Basement alarm tripped again. Boyd is checking it out.”
“How many did he take with him?”
“A dozen, sir. All from the overnight crew.”
“I’m on it.”
The bearded man snatched his own radio, which had been settled into its harness on the end of a bench. “Nico to monitoring. Let the chief have his breakfast in peace. I’m on it.” The radio dangled by his side as he walked toward the door. “I’m coming back for some hash browns.”
“We’ll make you a plate. Thank—”
“Don’t mention it, chief. It’s just more experience for me.” He gave Lila one last stray look before leaving the room.
The front door snicked closed a moment later.
Kenna and Connell sat on the benches, taking a space on either side of Mòr, who sat in a chair at the head of the table. “Nico is Connell’s second in command,” she explained. He’s been doing double shifts lately when I get ill so that Connell can stay with me.”
