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For a moment, she was frightened by the sight and quickly sat up in the overly-sized, golden-laced bed. The glass in front of her then turned a burning orange where a font in another language emboldened.
It then shimmered into the language she understood, English, still in the same dramatic cursive lettering. It moved in a wavy dance as she read it quickly.
“Good morning, guest Sarah,” it said, swaying back and forth. “Please rise and attend to the kitchen. The children will be in line promptly. The closet on your left is full.”
Sarah frowned, slightly amused, slightly lost. She had brought her own clothing and placed it in what looked most like a dresser on the farthest side of the room. But a wall started to pop open with a rosy bloom that slid to the right, showing off a glowing entryway.
She got up cautiously, following the yellow road of light, and gasped at the sight of the long line of velvet and silk fabric. She had heard that the Drakonians had their own hybrid version of clothing, one that could be transferred on the spot in an incredible technical feat. She felt a bit like she was walking onto the set of Star Trek, giggling to herself about it.
She jumped when a voice sounded, something booming and tinny like it was lifted from the Wizard of Oz.
“Please proceed to the kitchen. The children are waiting.” Thanks to a translator that had been inserted in her ear late last night after she first arrived, she could at least understand the voice without assistance.
“Fucking hell,” she muttered to herself.
Sarah didn’t know what to select from the magic sunbeam closet, so she resorted to wearing her own pullover and some comfortable jeans. She brushed her hair quickly to avoid being surprised by the voice-over again, pulling her blonde hair back in a bun. She applied the smallest amount of concealer, mascara, and a subtle soft pink dab to her lips. She took one last look in the mirror and let out a long sigh.
She was nervous. She wished that she had been given some brochure on Drakonian customs so she didn’t have to weave her way through the world making embarrassing mistakes.
Thus far, Kael had been cold … handsome and daunting … but cold. So he wasn’t exactly going to be a generous resource. But someone had to help her, so she hoped he wouldn’t be so frosty toward her the entire time.
Sarah left the room, gazing down the elaborate and lengthy hallways. Everything seemed to glimmer a foreign shade of silver like foil bending in the sun as she walked. She wore her flip-flops, which smacked against the flooring like webbed duck feet. It seemed to echo through the still building. The entire manor had the vibe of a chapel or even an ancient castle but with modern, sleek accents.
She followed the instructions that the voice had given her, moving down the hallway swiftly. She stepped into a kitchen that was even more vast than it seemed from the outside.
There was a man standing there, seeming to be of Drakonian descent, with the tracings unique to their kind. While the Captain’s were a deep wine shade, the person who seemed to be the chef had copper lines winding up and down their arms in tattoo-like swirls.
He was in a crimson-cinnamon uniform, standing at metallic appliances. It looked mostly like a normal human’s kitchen, other than the extra knobs and the excessive counter space.
“Hi,” Sarah said rather meekly.
The man looked up, flashing a toothy smile. A mouth full of teeth, as her mother would say.
“Are you the new nanny?” he said, voice far too loud for a morning setting.
She rubbed her arm anxiously, then stood up straight, trying to melt the apprehension away.
“Yes, I’m Sarah. Where is the Captain’s daughter? I thought food making was a part of my duties.”
The man frowned. Other than the tracings and his size, he looked mostly human. When he didn’t speak for a long time, Sarah began to feel awkward.
“What’s going on?”
Kael stood there, his arms at his side like he was at attention. His handsomeness struck Sarah like a lightning bolt. Those golden eyes were like a lion’s mane glistening under a savannah sun.
Sarah swallowed as he entered, the chef’s expression returning with comical speed.
“Captain, I apologize. I didn’t know she was in here,” he said apologetically.
Kael said nothing and merely moved to stand in front of Sarah. He looked down at her like she was a disobedient subject, one eyebrow cocked judgmentally.
Her face flushed at the sight of him. She looked away, hoping he didn’t catch it.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“The voice,” Sarah said, pointing down the hallway. “It told me to come here. I thought I was to meet your daughter for breakfast.”
Kael let out a gruff sigh. “Recalibrate, Anton,” he said to the chef in a hiss. “It has given incorrect instructions too many times now.”
