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“I brought pizza and alcohol,” he said, showing me a padded, heat-protected box in his hand and the wine bottle sticking out of his backpack.
I couldn’t believe he actually hiked up here like that. Others on the trail would have thought he was crazy. “Shouldn’t you be with the queen? The royals of Bhutan are in the capital.”
“So you are still keeping up with palace news?”
“I do have a radio, you know,” I muttered as he joined me on the log in front of the house. “You need to stop coming. It is distracting you from your work. Weren’t you worried people wouldn’t take you seriously before?”
“I finish all my work, then I come here. The queen knows. I leave everything else up to Gelula, and I now have a junior assistant—”
“They might end up replacing you.”
“The queen is more loyal than that.”
“You need to stop believing you are special and that they will always look out for you. That is not their duty—”
“The pizza is going to get cold as you lecture,” he said, handing it to me and putting his backpack down to unzip it. “And if you are so worried about my losing my job or being replaced, go back to yours. Problem solved.”
Ignoring him, I took the pizza box out.
“I brought an extra mountain of plates and mugs. You only have one of each in the cabin.”
“Yes, because there is only one of me,” I replied.
“What if you have a guest?”
“Why would I have a guest?”
“I am a guest.”
“No, you are a trespasser.”
“How am I trespassing on public land?”
“The trail is public. This is private land owned by me. Which is why you never see anyone else here.”
He froze, thinking about it. Then glanced around at the grounds. “You own all of this…even the stream?”
“It’s probably cheaper than your flat mid-city.”
He frowned and took the box back, opening and bringing out the cheesy pepperoni for himself.
I could only shake my head. “Who brings a pizza to camp?”
“Trespassers,” he muttered before taking a bite.
“How long do you plan on keeping this up? I’m not coming back.”
“If you want to be stubborn, I will be stubborn, too.” He shrugged and handed me the pizza box for me to take. “So here is what you missed at the palace—”
“I don’t need to know.”
“Mrs. Allemand has been trying to schedule as many events for the palace before the queen’s due date arrives. Mr. Cortot broke his hip after he fell from a ladder in the victory garden—don’t worry, he’s fine. Mr. Parsworth has a new grandchild, whose name is Charles. Mrs. Farbridge is already planning for the October festivities as well as the royal birth; apparently, a mother’s meal plan is very important at this time. As for the guard…” He trailed off and looked at me as I ate. “What do you want to know first?”
“Nothing,” I stated. It would be rude of me to be checking up on how Layland ran everything.
“There was a fight between them.”
“What?” I snapped angrily, turning to him. “Who and who? Were they disciplined?”
