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TENET: 37
Understand your comfort level and your limits.
- Dr. H.VynFleet, 132 Tenets of Childcare & Maintenance
YASMINE
Yasmine froze in place as the woman with the steel-gray bun and pantsuit looked her over.
“This is Yasmine, the new nanny,” Ruler Kreed said calmly. “She arrived yesterday.”
“Hello,” Yasmine said politely, inclining her head in respect, though she still wasn’t sure who she was addressing.
“This is Mrs. Slaite,” the Ruler said.
“Oh,” Yasmine said. “It’s lovely to meet you. Thank you for hiring me.”
She had thought it odd that the person who signed her contract had never taken the time to interview her. But now she could see how no-nonsense this woman was. Maybe she thought interviews were unnecessary.
“My office,” Mrs. Slaite barked out suddenly. “Now.”
Yasmine glanced up at the Ruler in alarm.
He nodded to her.
She turned back to Mrs. Slaite, but she was already halfway down the corridor, leaving Yasmine to scramble after her.
I can’t have done anything wrong yet,she told herself. Besides, she just got back. Even if I had done anything wrong, how would she know about it?
But that was a stupid thought. The woman still had her comms, and she clearly hadn’t really gotten much relaxing done during her time away if she had come back this fired up. She had probably spent the entire time counting down the minutes before she could return to work.
“This way,” Mrs. Slaite said, gesturing toward a plain door just down the hall from the ornate mahogany entry to Kreed’s study.
Yasmine followed her in, feeling almost breathless from the brisk walk, even though it hadn’t been far, and she was accustomed to a morning run.
Breathe. Find your center. Bring order to your thoughts.
“Sit,” Mrs. Slaite said unceremoniously, pointing to a wooden chair in front of a simple work desk.
Yasmine did as she was told, looking around a bit as Mrs. Slaite moved to the other side of the desk and seated herself.
Whereas the rest of the palace was spacious, sunny, and lovingly brightened with artwork, vistas over the grounds, or both, Mrs. Slaite’s office was plain and drab by comparison. A beige rug had been laid over the marble tile floor. The only window was covered with a projection screen onto which was cast a blueprint of the palace. Not one personal item adorned any of the walls or her desk.
“You never picked up your security dossier and blaster,” Mrs. Slaite said in an accusatory tone.
“I just got here last night,” Yasmine said carefully. “No one mentioned those things.”
“That’s no excuse,” Mrs. Slaite said crisply, pushing a box across her desk.
Yasmine lifted the lid.
Inside, the dull gray composite of the blaster sucked at her soul like a black hole.
Yasmine grabbed the memory chip that was beside it, and then pushed the box back across the desk.
“I’ll be happy to study the dossier,” Yasmine told her. “But I don’t carry a blaster.”
“Like hell you don’t,” Slaite trumpeted in surprise.
