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The pins came out of my hair hours ago, while Rupert and I were working, but I don’t mind that. There’s no mirror where I can check my face. I probably still have vestiges of the cosmetics my maid applied this morning.
Why am I fluttering and worrying over my appearance? Rupert is clearly attracted to me, despite any dishevelment. He has dropped several bold hints that he’d like to sleep with me.
I wait eagerly, imagining all the ways this night could go. Maybe we’ll sit and talk for hours, learning everything about each other. Maybe we’ll forgo the words and leap into each other’s arms instantly. We’ll have to be careful, of course—we can’t be caught rolling about naked, especially since I’m one of the King’s concubines. But I’m sure a Half-Elf will have some magic to seal the door, or to warn us if someone approaches. Besides, with his doppelganger in place, no one would have reason to suspect anything amiss in the room.
Time passes... I’m not sure how much time. There’s no clock or hourglass to be seen, so I decide to track the passing seconds myself. I pace the room, counting to sixty in a slow, steady rhythm.
I count to sixty over and over, until I’ve done it sixty times. I use bobbins to keep track of every ten-minute segment.
Once I’ve counted a full hour again, I slump disconsolately to the floor while my excitement fades to disappointment.
He’s not coming back. Maybe something happened to prevent his return, or maybe he decided he didn’t want me. Either way, I might as well steel myself for spending the night alone.
9
As I roll the cart back into the kitchen of the House of Bounty, a red-faced woman approaches me, her plump fists on her hips.
“Rupert Diggs,” she says loudly over the din and bustle of the kitchen. “Where’s that orlinspice I asked you to fetch last night?”
“Orlinspice,” I falter. “I suppose I forgot to buy it.”
“Forgot, did you? And where’s the coin I gave you for it? Did you forget that too?”
Shit. Quickly I tap into my link with the real Rupert and dig through his recent memories, hunting for this woman’s face.
But I’m not fast enough.
“Stealing my coin and failing to deliver, eh?” she huffs. “And I thought we were friends.”
“We are. I’m good for it, I swear. I’ll fetch the coin for you right now.”
“I’ll come with you,” she says. “I’m through with my shift anyway.” She wipes her hands on a towel and whips off her apron.
Wonderful. Now I’ll be delayed on my way back to Juliette.
I fight to keep smiling, to conceal my frustration. “Come on, then. Let’s get you your money.”
I remember where Rupert’s room is, but my mind is divided in two—one part trying to navigate through the House, the other searching Rupert’s mind for this woman’s name. She’s chatty, unlike the other servants I’ve encountered in the house. I suspect some of the maids are mute by the King’s cruelty, rather than by choice, but I haven’t had time to confirm that suspicion.
“I’m surprised at you, Rupert,” says the cook in a more subdued tone as we traverse the halls together. “After everything we talked about... and then you behave like this? You barely looked at me earlier when you came to fetch the food, didn’t deliver what you promised, and now you’re acting...” She shakes her head. “You’re not yourself.”
Frantically I scrabble through Rupert’s head. Why are his memories of this woman so difficult to find? The surface memories of a stasis sleeper are easy to access, but the more important and emotional memories are usually buried deeper, closer to the soul. Which means this cook is someone significant to the original Rupert. He has her buried beneath layers of everyday encounters and tasks.
“I’ve been feeling odd lately,” I say, to buy myself a few extra moments.
“What we discussed—I know it’s a heavy matter,” she says in a low tone. “I understand if you’re scared. But don’t let fear stand in the way, Rupert. Don’t tell me I was wrong to put my faith in you. It’s not just my life on the line if you change your mind. If you plan to betray us, at least give me some warning, I beg you.”
Shit, shit, shit. This goes deeper than I thought. There are secrets between this woman and Rupert—smuggling or rule-breaking at minimum—maybe even conspiracy or rebellion.
“I’m scared, but I’m no traitor.” It feels like the right thing to say.
The woman’s round shoulders relax a bit. She reminds me of Juliette, except she’s significantly shorter. Juliette is tall for a human woman—built for beauty and power...
No, I can’t get distracted by thoughts of her. I need to figure out what’s going on before we reach my room. I have a feeling the cook plans to speak even more freely once we’re behind closed doors.
Veering my mental energy back to Rupert Diggs, I delve into his subconscious again, deeper this time. I can see the woman’s face—I can almost grasp her name—
But a shudder comes through the link between me and the original Rupert. A vibration of alarm—the kind of disoriented dread that seizes the heart in the moments between sleeping and waking.
