Chapter 3 - Reasons that are not always obvious
Maia watched her early and with the kind of gaze that can be lethal. Maia had the tilt of someone who expected the world to hand her what she wanted. She was a woman who dressed for attention and kept an obsessive watch on Lorenzo as if she were an animal caged by jealousy. The first time Maia walked into the servants hall and saw Isabel she paused. She did not have to speak to make the air cold.
Maia said, Who are you. The voice was measured but she had venom behind it.
Kira kept her face neutral. She bowed her head. I am Isabel Scott. A new hand hired to help with service.
Maia smiled a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. She said, The house does not take kindly to strangers. You will learn quickly, then. Do not get in my way.
Kira nodded. She had expected hostility and she accepted it as fuel. From somewhere in the shadows Lucas laughed a small useless laugh that did not comfort her. He always had that habit of pretending to be distracted while watching everything like an animal smelling a trap. He had been a childhood friend and he had held a place in her memory carved out by years of neighborly trust. He also had the look of a man who could be bought with coin and influence. She buried the thought and told herself she would keep him close for the moment. Nancy, her real friend in truth, had arranged a position for her through a recommendation that was whispered and paid and kept in a pocket only large enough for loyalty.
Days folded into a rhythm. Kira learned the layout of the mansion the way a thief learns a map. She learned where the servants hid their gossip and where the family hung secrets like coats. She cleaned the rooms that were never shown to the public, that smelled of dust and old money and old regrets. She polished silver that had seen blood. She listened to late conversations filtered through the vents. She made small notes that lived on the inside of her head. She catalogued them like a surgeon preparing tools for an operation.
Lorenzo began to test her without announcing that he was testing her. He would ask for tea at odd hours and watch how she brewed it. He would leave a parchment in the study with a loose corner and see whether she would straighten it or let it stay untidy. When a courier arrived with a sealed envelope he observed how she handled it and whether she noticed the way the seal had a tiny nick that suggested it had been opened and reclosed. His tests were minute and close and made her breath catch when they happened. He was measuring something more than loyalty. He was measuring whether she would flinch under observation.
She did not flinch until he took her to the library.
The library was a cavern of books with a single lamp burning in the center like a sun. Lorenzo sat in a leather chair and gestured toward a seat across from him. He said, Sit. I want to know how you answer direct questions.
Kira sat as if her knees were made of stone. He leaned forward and folded his hands. He said, Tell me about the night of the banquet. Not the part about the chandelier. Tell me about how you felt when you saw the bolt moving. Why did you act.
Her pulse hit a steady drum. If she told him nothing he would read the silence and fill it with suspicion. If she told him truth he would learn that there was a wound she could use. She chose a path that was narrower than silence and yet safer than confession.
Kira said, I felt that a life was at risk. I did not want to be responsible for letting a person die when I could stop it. It was instinct more than thought.
He watched her for a long breath and then he did something he had not done before. He set his hand on the arm of his chair and his voice softened until it was almost a private thing between two people alone at midnight.
Lorenzo said, Most people think they would act if faced with danger. Few do. You did. That is not the same as being a maid. It is not the same as loyalty. I would like knowing why someone like you would come into a house built like this.
Kira looked at him and for an absurd second the two of them held the same tablecloth of truth. She did not answer with her story. She answered with another.
Kira said, People come here for reasons that are not always obvious. Some want shelter. Some want reputation. Some want access. I want work.
He did not smile. He stood and walked to the window. Outside, the garden was a dark spill of shapes that a moon could not make clear. He said, Work is not a bad reason. But remember this. In this house nothing is ever simple. There are politics and danger and there is blood. You will learn the names of people who act as if they are saints and I will teach you which ones hide knives.
Her throat closed around the words. The warning felt like a promise.
When she left the library she found a small folded note tucked into the hem of her apron. She had not seen who placed it there. The paper smelled faintly of tobacco and cologne. On the outside of the note someone had written in a hand that was deliberate and careful.
The note read, Watch your back.
Her skin went cold enough to make the world turn bright at the edges. The handwriting was not Mr Grays. It was not Nancy. It might have been a warning from someone who wanted to help. It might have been a warning from someone who wanted to watch her fall.
Kira folded the square of paper into the seam of her uniform and refused to imagine the worst. She had been working toward danger for years. She had rehearsed every betrayal and every wound. Still when threat arrived in the shape of ink on paper it felt different. It felt close. It felt personal.
That evening she found Lorenzo at the veranda watching the horizon where city lights met darkness like a jagged line. He said, You did not have to read the note out loud in the library. You could have told me privately.
She angled her head like a trained animal. Did you want me to.
He did not answer for a moment. His outline was rigid in a way that suggested he had not yet decided whether to trust her or to test her with more. He said, I will not pretend to be blind to the danger. I also will not pretend I will let someone I care about walk in
to a trap. You will remain under my watch for now.