Page 42 of Stray
With a heavy sigh, she shifted the burden of the reusable grocery bag on her right shoulder and quickened her pace home. It was already September, and the nights were coming sooner and lasting longer.
The Hill family home was only slightly smaller than the Academy itself, and every bit as stately. The looming stone structure had been standing longer than Vanders had existed as an independent township, but there was something undeniably modern about the stylish sports cars lining the circular driveway wrapped around the estate. Ella stopped in front of the marble fountain and fished a coin out of her pocket to toss it in. It had become something of a ritual, and Mrs. Hill certainly wouldn’t miss the odd penny here and there.
Not that any of her wishes had come true thus far.
To be fair, it was unreasonable to expect that much of a humble fountain, as magical as it had seemed the first time she’d walked past those gates thirteen years earlier. No amount of magic could ever compensate for the fact that she was a stray, and Axel Hill was practically guaranteed a spot as the next King of the colony.
It was, after all, a wishing well and not a miracle fountain.
With some effort, Ella managed to enter the security code with two heavy laden bags straining the fortitude of her tightly constricted fingers. Her sneakers squeaked against the freshly waxed entryway and the groceries very nearly became the latest casualty of her clumsiness.
As Mrs. Hill put it so eloquently, if she hadn’t been born with the blessing of feline grace, she would most certainly have perished by her own bumbling by now.
Carefully slipping out of her shoes and stashing them behind the antique vase used as a repository for wet umbrellas, lest she be scolded by the staff for ruining their hard work, she padded slowly into the kitchen.
“There you are,” Beatrice huffed, leaving a steaming pot on the stove to take one of the bags from Ella’s arms. She quickly rummaged through it and snatched the next one up onto the kitchen island when its contents proved unsatisfactory. At last, she pulled a dark brown bottle of vanilla from the bag with a small cry of victory. “Took you long enough. And I thought I told you to get the good stuff.”
“That was all they had,” Ella protested, already starting to put away the rest of the groceries.
Beatrice sighed in defeat, twisting the safety cap off the small bottle. She was a stout, pleasant-looking young woman with golden blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. Ella had always admired her ability to speak her mind, even if she sometimes found herself on the receiving end of it. “I guess what Mrs. Hill doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“You mean like you and Tyler?” Ella asked wryly, pulling her black waist-length tresses back into a loose ponytail.
Beatrice shot her a lethal glare, but she was too occupied with her souffle to do anything about it. Ella had stumbled upon the cook and the new chauffeur having an intimate encounter in the pantry several months earlier, and while she never would have told a living soul, she couldn’t pass up the temptation to tease her about it now and again. It was certainly less than Beatrice would have done in her situation.
“Don’t start with me,” the other woman huffed. “Wash your hands and get the table set. We’re shorthanded tonight, so it’s going to take all hands on deck to impress the Watersons.”
“The Watersons?” Ella echoed, nearly dropping the stack of delicate china in her hands. If the Watersons were coming to dinner, that meant Marissa would be in attendance. The lynx shifter was only a year older than Ella, but she acted as if she’d hung the moonandmade it shine ever since they were little. The way the young toms in the colony fawned over her long red hair and pretty blue eyes, it seemed they agreed. “Why aretheycoming?”
“You know the Unveiling is only a few weeks away,” Beatrice said pointedly, her back to Ella once more as she turned her attention to seasoning the Beef Wellington. “Once finals begin, Axel and Marissa will hardly have any time at home, so I’m sure the Watersons want to make sure everyone is on the same page.”
“Right,” Ella murmured. If Axel was all but assured to be the next King of the colony, Marissa was just as clearly destined to be its Empress. These things were left to fate, according to the Fellowship’s doctrine, but even fate never seemed to dare question such prestigious lineages as the Hills and Watersons. Axel had been an auspicious candidate from birth, and the only tom who could come close to rivaling him was Bishop, the current King’s son. Whomever fate chose as the next Empress, she was guaranteed to choose him as her mate.
Just as the moon and sun exchanged places in the sky, so too did the roles of power within the colony. In three weeks’ time, it would be twenty years to the day the last Empress had been marked by the moon. Time for the cycle to begin anew.
If there was one silver lining to the Watersons’ arrival, it was that Axel would certainly be in attendance at dinner that evening. Even though he lived only miles from home, he had taken the first opportunity to move into the dorms the very moment he turned eighteen.
Ella was nearly finished setting the table when she heard the front door open and close. Her heart skipped a beat and she hastily placed the remainder of the wine glasses on the table before rushing to the door. Mrs. Hill had been at home when she’d left to go to the market, but it was much too early for Axel to arrive.
When she peeked out of the dining room archway and saw Mrs. Hill scowling at the scuffed up sneaker she was holding by a string, she gulped.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said, shuffling across the floor as quickly as she dared in her socks. “The floors were slippery, and I--”
“What on earth are you wearing?” Emily interrupted, turning an even more scornful eye on the jeans and loose plaid shirt Ella was wearing.
Ella followed her gaze, instinctively bringing a hand to her chest to make sure none of the buttons had popped open. As far as she could tell, she was decent enough. “I just got home from the market.”
“Well, go upstairs and put on something decent,” Emily said brusquely, setting her red designer clutch on the table next to the door before checking her appearance in the mirror above it. She smoothed down a few blonde hairs that had fallen out of place. All three of her children had inherited those flaxen locks, and the late Mr. Hill’s had only been a shade or two darker.
Yet another way in which Ella stood out like a sore thumb from the family she had lived alongside for so many years. Alongside, but never quite a part of it.
“I’m going to be at dinner?” Ella asked, unable to mask her confusion. She usually took her meals with Beatrice and the other servants well after the family had already eaten, and she couldn’t imagine why the presence of the Watersons tonight would change that.
“There will be another guest joining us this evening,” Emily answered, turning back to face her. She was a good several inches taller than the young queen, and the way her fitted dress showed off her lithe build made Ella feel bloated in comparison. She’d filled out considerably from the starvation of her early youth, but she was still slight of frame and more generously endowed than most feline shifters her age. The way the human boys back in high school had started gawking at her around Sophomore year allayed her fears that she was entirely lacking in appeal, but she still felt woefully inadequate next to the modelesque beauty of the other queens in the pride. Marissa was like a funhouse mirror, exemplifying everything she wasn’t and so dearly longed to be.
“Who?” Ella asked. She’d already exceeded the allotted amount of words Emily usually tolerated without becoming notably irritated, but if she had to contend with Marissaanda stranger, she wanted to know what she was up against.
“High Priestess Tessa will be gracing us with her presence,” Emily answered.
