Page 62 of Dead Wrong

“I was hoping that you would reconsider my standing offer once this horrible Rebellion issue has been resolved. Without the constant distractions, just think of what we would be able to accomplish. How quickly we would be able to bring about the second Awakening.”

Cirian cocked his head to the side, glancing over at his mentor. Obviously, he was not privy to the details of whatever said offer entailed.

“I look forward to the day of the second Awakening just as much as you do, Adoranda,” replied the Cardinal. “But the Church cannot take such a strong stance on this issue. At least not in the current climate. I’m sure you understand.”

Mother huffed a laugh, spilling more of the purple smoke from her nostrils. “As cautious as ever, I see. No matter, Sancha. You’ll see things my way sooner rather than later. And when that happens, I do hope that there is still a seat at the table for the Church.”

The women stared each other down, neither breaking away until Cirian jumped in, breaking the tension. “Apologies, Your Grace, but I’m feeling a bit weary from the trip over. Would it be possible to send Reginald here down to fetch some us some tea?”

Mother looked over at me as Cirian referred to me as “Reginald,” seeming to realize for the first time that I was in the room. I panicked for a moment, praying that she wouldn’t see the need to reach out with her aura, but she simply nodded to Cirian.

“Sounds delightful.”

Cirian snapped his fingers, summoning me to his side. I bowed deeply, doing my best to lower my voice as I replied, “Yes, Master Cirian?”

“Tea and perhaps something sweet from the kitchens. And don’t dawdle, Reginald. I know how you like to fraternize.”

“Yes, Master Cirian.” I bowed once more and nearly lost my balance as I found Mother staring intently at me. Her lips parted as if she were about to ask me something, but then Cirian spoke again, allowing me enough time to escape.

“We’ve heard of your marvelous victory on the front of the Rebellion. Please, do tell us in your own words how the effort is going.”

I slipped out of Mother’s office as quickly as I could, waiting till I was clear of the soldiers by the door before I exhaled a shaky breath.

So far, so good.

Moving back into the main foyer, I couldn’t ignore the signs of my mother’s growing paranoia. The windows on the front of the chateau had been reinforced, the sparkling glimmer of magical wards distorting the view through them. Great Grandmother’s statue watched from above as I crossed the space, once again moving past the giant map sprawled along the table. I spotted a mortal maid cleaning off a stack of dishes from the corner and figured I would follow her to the kitchen.

She noticed me as we moved in tandem down the hallway, and I offered a polite wave so as not to startle her. “Just looking for the kitchens. The Cardinal’s Acolyte needs tea.”

The woman’s posture relaxed, and she gave a soft smile. “Of course. I can show you the way, love. Follow me.”

There was far too much ground to cover in searching for Bastien, so I’d throw my lot in with the servants, as they were bound to know where Mother was keeping him, at least. Even prisoners had to be fed.

I hurried to match the woman’s stride, ducking the random maid or soldier who marched down the hall. Memories assaulted my mind, shooting up from the depths of my subconscious like geysers. These halls held so much of my history I only wished there was more time to sort through it.

“There certainly is a lot going on around here,” I said as we dodged a line of militia soldiers just outside of the kitchen.

“Tell me about it,” the woman replied, using her hip to push open the door. The kitchen was sweltering as we headed in, a row of Unseen working along the center wooden-block-topped island, preparing dozens of plates. The stove top was overflowing with stockpots of simmering liquids, and across the way, the large double-oven belched steam each time the doors were opened to remove pans of bread and pastries. “You can speak with Eustace if you need a teapot,” the woman tells me, pointing to one of the Unseen manning the stovetop.

“Thank you,” I replied as she hurried off in the opposite direction. Feeling immediately in the way, just as I did when I was a child, I moved gingerly through the kitchen. It was more difficult than I remember now that I was too big to weave between the cook’s legs as I went.

I noticed more of those strange collars, each of the Unseen sporting one. They were uniform in their appearance, just simple black leather with a golden clasp, but a certain unease settled in my stomach the longer I looked at them.

Finally, I reached the Unseen called Eustace, a younger man than I was expecting, with a shock of soft orange hair protruding up in a line between the pointed ears tufted in the same-colored fur. He eyed me as I approached, already looking annoyed.

“And who are you s’posed to be?”

“Apologies,” I started, raising my voice over the din of the swirling action moving around us. “The Acolyte and Cardinal have requested tea?—”

“I can’t bloody understand you with that thing on, chap,” the Unseen interrupted, lifting a heavy cast iron lid from a pot and stirring the contents with a long wooden spoon.

Glancing over my shoulder, I decided the chances of anyone recognizing me here were low, so I pulled the mask away, turning back to face the man. “They want tea,” I said again, my voice carrying much further. “Just tell me where I can get a pot going.”

Eustace groaned, muttering under his breath as he replaced the lid. “How do they expect me to feed an army if I keep having to heat up their stinkin’ piss water—” he paused, his eyes going wide as he looked over at me again. “You. I know you.”

I fumbled with the mask, shaking my head furiously. “You’re mistaken.”

“They said you were dead,” Eustace continued, waving a wooden spoon in my face. “What the bloody hell is going on around here?”

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