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Cecily and Camille entered in a rush and settled into their places, barely turning a surprised eye at Nico. Perhaps guests showed up for breakfast often.
Or perhaps Nico showed up often.
At least Cecily appeared to have woken up in a better frame of mind. The young woman had dressed for the day in a pair of trousers and a sweater. She’d brushed her hair, and her eyes were clear. She even offered up a few words of greeting, calling Nico by name.
Yes, he’d definitely cooked for the oracle before.
“Mother, you’ll never believe what happens at the end of season three.”
“Don’t spoil it, Cecily. I’m not even through season one yet.”
“What show?” Connell asked.
“The Estate,” both women answered at the same time.
“It’s a show about the highborn,” Cecily explained. “The actresses and actors always wear the most beautiful, expensive clothes.”
“Beautiful clothes for beautiful people,” her friend chimed in. “I wonder how much they spend, or if it’s all product placement.”
“It’s product placement, of course,” Cecily said offhandedly. “But who cares about that? It’s the stories everyone’s interested in. The highborn are always sleeping around and doing nasty things to everyone, just like they do in real life. They’re such awful people. I’m not surprised they’re being hanged in droves. Did you hear about the heir who dodged a treason charge?”
Lila choked on her orange juice.
Kenna’s gaze flipped toward Lila, her eyes guilty.
“Ms. Randolph did not do anything wrong, Cecily,” Connell assured her. “She’d been helping Bullstow and got tried by mistake. Nothing she did was—”
“She’s the prime minister’s daughter. I bet he paid off Bullstow to save her. Or she did. It’s what highborn do. You’re so naïve for a purplecoat.”
“No one has that much money. She was prepared to serve a slave’s term to protect Chief Shaw and Bullstow. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Former chief.” Cecily pointed at Connell with her tortilla. “And you know what it means to me? It means that an heir was charged with a crime, but the chief who charged her was punished. That’s how it always is with the highborn, especially the heirs.”
“You’re confusing some silly teenage show with reality. Mr. Shaw would not have confessed unless he spoke the truth. I’ve met the man, Cecily, and you’re talking out of your ass. Word is that Ms. Randolph is one of the good ones. Not all highborn are crooks, just like not every oracle child wears robes all day and chants to the gods.”
Cecily bit into her tortilla. “On this we shall have to disagree.”
“Well, I heard they’re going to use the trials in the show during the next season,” Camille said. “The rumor is that one of the characters will be hanged.”
“Spoilers,” Kenna warned.
As the group chatted about the show, Lila nibbled on the migas, her mouth erupting with the flavors, the peppers and onions blended in perfect proportions. The meal was worthy of knocking on a cabin door in the middle of the night.
Nico watched her as she ate.
From time to time, Connell’s booming laugh cut through the group’s conversation. They’d quickly drifted away from The Estate and had begun talking about shows from their childhood, back when television was still good. Cecily and Camille had already gotten lost in the nostalgia haze, the shows too old for them to remember.
Lila had no idea either. She’d not been allowed near a screen as a child. She’d been too busy reading and studying and learning about business. Instead, she focused on Dixon, who’d begun sneaking looks at Blair, a tiny blush creeping into his cheeks.
Blair didn’t take peeks. She stared. Openly and unabashedly, her head cocked on her palm, her elbow resting on the table. Once again, she’d forgotten to eat.
Nico caught Lila’s eye. He chuckled knowingly at the pair.
Meals were so very different in the oracle’s home than how they’d been in the great house. There, the family played chess, her mother raking over any comment made, always trying to gain an advantage. One stray word, and she might send a spy to track you for a month. Guests played the same game. Dubois might take any comment said at the table, bartering it with other members of the senate or his own matron.
People in this home filled their spoons with laughter. They dined on easy chuckles and refused platters of discord, not taking a bite.
Everything here seemed easy.
