Page 19 of Bloody Kingdom

“I’ve heard she’s got a mouth on her.” Della walks into the room, her low high heels clicking on the hardwood.

“So do you, but we still find a way to like you,” Ira jokes.

“Oh,joy! Someone woke up with jokes this morning.” Della purses her red-painted lips at him, but despite her hard exterior, I can tell by the way her eyes soften that she likes Ira. She steps closer to his bed and adjusts the blankets I’d just fixed. When she’s done, she looks me over once again. “Silas didn’t inform you of the dress code of this house?”

I glance down at my black leggings and tank top. Once again, I don’t have shoes on. At least I brushed my hair today and put it into a ponytail. That’s a win, right? “Nope.” I rock back on my feet. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Hmm,” Della mumbles.

Ira meets my eye and smiles reassuringly. “Leave her be, Della,” he scolds. “She’s watching over me, she doesn’t have to dress all fancy like you.”

“Silas won’t approve.” Della clicks her tongue critically.

“He doesn’t approve of anything I do, so why change it up now?” I give her a great big smile just to rub it in.

“I can see why he wouldn’t approve,” she sounds thoroughly unimpressed with me. With a dismissive look, she returns her attention to Ira. “Are you hungry this morning? Can I bring you anything?”

“Maybe just some hot tea, if it’s not a problem,” Ira requests.

“It’s never a problem.” Della’s hand wraps around Ira’s frail, boney one. “Now—” she says, turning back to me.Oh no.“—You. Follow me.”

“Why?”

“I’m to get you some breakfast,” she explains, sounding totally put out by it. “Also, Silas asked that I give this to you.”

From the pocket of her blazer, she pulls out a sealed envelope. Hesitantly, I take it from her. Across the front, my name is scrolled in perfect, precise cursive.

“What is this?” I ask.

Della rolls her eyes. “How the hell should I know? I usually try to refrain from reading someone’s private letters.”

“Okay, lady,” I drawl. “I was just wondering if he gave you any other information when he gave the note to you. That’s all. There’s no need to be a snippy bitch about it.” If she insists on being rude, well so can I. I’m a patient person, but I’ll only be talked down to so much before I snap.

Instead of looking at me with more anger, Della almost looks pleased with my response. The corners of her mouth even tip up a little.

“What?” I can’t help but snap at her.

“Nothing.” She shrugs. “I just appreciate someone who stands up for themselves. Come on, let’s go get you fed.”

Where I stumblethrough a kitchen like a colt learning to walk, Della moves around it like the chef of a five-star restaurant. It’s almost like a dance as she floats between the stove and the oven, not once does she get overwhelmed or frazzled. She’s nothing but calm—completely at ease in this environment. I always end up forgetting about something and burning the crap out of it.

She didn’t ask what I wanted to eat, not that I thought I got a say in the first place, instead she just started whisking eggs and frying bacon. She put something in the oven in a skillet, but I was so distracted by the letter in my hand, I didn’t see what.

I don’t know what I was expecting him to write me, but a note telling me I’m not metaphorically handcuffed to Ira’s bedside wasn’t it.

Miss Page,

It’s come to my attention you’ve been under the impression you are not permitted to leave Ira’s room. While I appreciate and respect such dedication, it was never expected of you. Though Della will surely disagree with this, please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. The library and downstairs sitting room are also places you may explore. Don’t mistake this as me giving you free rein of the house. I will be personally showing you what is off-limits. -Laurent

Seriously who still writes likethis? If I didn’t know better, I would have thought this note came by carrier pigeon. His handwriting is beautiful, looks like something straight out of the Victorian era. My finger absentmindedly traces the way he loops the L in his name as I reread it.

I can’t help but roll my eyes at his parting remark. In one breath he gives me some liberty, but just as quick, the leash he’s got me on tightens on my neck painfully.

“What did he say?” Della’s question finally pulls my attention away from the letter. She refuses to read someone’s mail, but it would seem she has no qualms about being nosy and asking about the contents once it’s opened.

Deciding to mess with her a little, I say nonchalantly, “He asked me on a date.” Bringing the coffee cup up to my face, I hide my smile.

As if someone had electrocuted her. Della gasps and spins so fast in my direction, the egg she’s been holding in her hand falls to the black-and-white checkered tile below.

---