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“Why not?”
Her shoulders lifted. “My father and uncle died in the unpleasantness as well. I needed to come and support the family.”
“Were you not compensated for your loss?”
“Oh, yes…but my mother went through the payout already, she has not had the…easiest time. So I came to work. I’m old enough for it and I have two younger sisters that still need to eat.”
I sucked in a calming breath. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It is not a bother. In all honesty, I couldn’t wait to start work here. It is all anyone from the village talks about anyway. May as well be in the thick of it.”
“Of course.” My hand reached out, my fingertips touching the edge of the platter. “Thank you for bringing this up here.”
“Of course, miss.” She turned and moved to exit the room.
“Hildie, wait.”
She stopped and spun back to me at the doorway. “Yes, miss?”
“Please, call me Ada. Josie did.”
She nodded. “Is that all?”
“No.” I hedged, not wanting to ask the question for the humiliation of it, but I needed to know the answer. “Do you know what is expected of me?”
Her brow wrinkled. “Expected of you?”
“Yes. Am I to dine in the main dining room tonight?”
Her bottom lip jutted upward. “I don’t think so. I was told nothing of that. Just to bring in the food. Should I inquire?”
I lifted my palm to her. “No. No, that is fine.” And even more humiliating. “Thank you for bringing me food.”
She gave me a bright smile that looked just like Josie’s had, and she disappeared into the hallway.
Things were different here. Of course they were.
Of course they could never go back to what they once were.
No matter how many stones were put back in place.
Chapter8
{ Ada }
For three days, all my food was delivered to my room, well before the dining hour. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. A clear indicator.
I wasn’t welcome to dine with Damen.
Other than Hilde, I saw very few people, but I wasn’t confined to my room.
I walked the many twisty corridors of the castle, marveling at how it had been put back together. An impossible feat, somehow made possible.
When Damen wanted something, it happened. And he’d wanted his damn castle back.
But it wasn’t the same as it was before—it never could be. In some areas, the giant rectangular stones that were the blocks of the castle had been replaced with new stone. Surely cut to exacting sizes from the same limestone quarry that had originally supplied the stone to the castle. They matched in composition. But these new stones were whiter, not dulled and pockmarked with hundreds of years of wear like the salvageable blocks had been.
Stark reminders that some things could never be recreated.
