*Isla*
“He’s on his way back,” Ben says hoarsely, running his fingers through his hair as he takes a seat in the dining room. I hold Isaac against my chest, patting his back as I pace along the far wall where the sunset is beaming through the windows. “I talked to him a few hours ago. He said he’d be here by morning.”
I nod, glancing out a window as I pass, as if I can make Maddox just materialize out of nowhere.
“How is Antony?” Ben asks as he reaches for a bottle of wine. He motions with his hand to offer me a glass but I shake my head.
“Fine. Angry, but fine,” I sigh. I look down at Isaac, who is asleep with his chubby, perfect cheek squished on my shoulder. “He’s been holed up in Poppy’s room all day. He wants to skin that man alive, Ben.”
“I understand why,” Ben says through gritted teeth as he pours himself some wine. “Has the man said anything?”
“He won’t even give us his name. I interviewed some of the other warriors, and no one recognizes him. No one knows who he is or where he came from.”
“Commander Givens will be here tomorrow in time for Maddox’s arrival. I was able to get a hold of him on my way home with Isaac.”
“What did he say about the unrest in our enemy territories?” I ask.
Ben pauses, his wine glass resting on his lower lip.
“That there’s no longer any unrest, Isla. That there was a very sudden sense of peace. I found it hard to explain.”
Hope tingles up my spine as I turn from the window to look at Ben, sensing that he’s thinking the same thing that I am.
“He placed the diamond in the temple?”
“Yes. I believe so.”
I sigh heavily, a smile touching the corner of my mouth as I hold my brother’s gaze. But then I look to the archway leading into the hallway where a maid has just rushed in, her face pink with exertion.
Oh, Goddess, what is it now?
“Mystica,” she pants, her eyes glassy with worry. “She’s very ill, Luna.”
“What’s the matter?” I ask, glancing at Ben before walking toward the maid. Ben rises from his seat, abandoning his wine.
“She said she needed to lie down, but that was hours ago. I went in to check on her and bring her some dinner and found her nearly unconscious–”
Ben and I hurry past the maid and through the lower level of the castle. Mystica has a room near the servants’ quarters adjunct to the herbary and the infirmary. My heart is in my throat when we finally burst into her room, which is full of maids and nurses kneeling by her bed, trying to get her to eat or drink something.
Mystica is breathing heavily, her eyes opening to only slits as she lies there, gray and sallow.
I hand Isaac to his nanny, who thankfully just happens to be in the room, and kneel at her bedside.
“Mystica,” I whisper, placing the back of my fingers on her forehead. “It’s me, Isla.”
“My darling child,” she croaks, a soft, fleeting smile fluttering across her lips. But the smile doesn’t reach her eyes, which are nearly lifeless and tinged yellow.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, noticing how her hands are trembling on her chest. I take one of them in mine and startle at how cold she is. I glance at one of the maids, who gives me a sad, withdrawn look in reply. “Is she ill?” I ask in a whisper. I look around, wondering if the head housekeeper is in the room.
I don’t know the woman well at all. In fact, I don’t think I’ve had a conversation with her yet. Poppy isn’t fond of her, I know that much, and she keeps her distance from me.
“Where is Hestia?” I ask the young maid kneeling by my side.
“She was in the kitchen earlier,” someone behind me says.
“I need to speak to her,” I say, looking around at the faces in the room. Everyone looks so incredibly sad. I know everyone loves Mystica. She’s been a grandmother of sorts to every young nurse and servant in the house. One of the maids bobs her head and scurries out of the room. I look up at Ben, who's standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “I need to do something,” I say, choking on the words. “Can you make sure Antony doesn’t kill anyone for a while?”
Ben gives me a sad, tight smile and nods.
I turn back to Mystica, shifting my weight as I reach up to touch a lock of her nearly white hair. “I need a bowl, and whatever tea she likes–”
“Let me be, my dear,” she whispers, her eyes barely open. “Don’t waste your energy on me. I am too old–”
“Mystica, please–”
“Isla,” she whispers, patting my hand with her trembling fingers. “My time is coming, and I intend to go when the Goddess calls me home.” A few maids sniffle and whimper behind me as I clutch Mystica’s hand.
“But I can help you–”
“Your powers will be needed for another purpose. A greater purpose.”
“I’m not ready for you to go,” I whisper, unable to stop myself from starting to cry.
“I’m ready,” she says with a little laugh. “When you’re as old as me, you’ll understand.” She sighs heavily, then her brow furrows, the trembling in her hands getting worse.
“Is there anything we can do to make her more comfortable?” one of the nurses asks. I swallow, watching as Mystica closes her eyes.
“Try to get her to drink something, at least. Tea with sugar and milk.” I slowly climb to my feet and look down at Mystica once more. Her chest is slowly rising and falling, and the trembling in her hands begins to decrease. “She’s just sleeping,” I say to myself, as if I’m trying to convince myself nothing is amiss and my friend isn’t fading away right before my eyes. “Find me immediately if she gets worse,” I command to the room before turning on my heel and accepting Isaac from his nanny.
* * *
Hestia looks more like a mythical creature than a woman to me–tall and lean with a shallow face that makes her look much older than she is. I can’t deny that she’s one hell of a head housekeeper, but keeping her at arm’s length has seemed appropriate.
Trinity hired her.
Hestia pours tea into a dainty china cup and sets it in front of me in the informal sitting room.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, thank you,” I say, watching the woman’s face as she pours cream into my cup. Her fingers are long and narrow, and I can tell just by her skin that she must have spent time working outside when she was younger.
Strange. Normally head housekeepers come from more affluent backgrounds within their packs, falling in line with ladies maids and private governesses for the royal pups.
“I wanted to begin by thanking you for your service during the battle,” I say, raising the cup to my lips. The tea smells sweet, with a hint of spice, and tastes like heaven when I take a drink.
“That was a very difficult few days,” she admits, pouring herself a cup. She looks up at me briefly, blue eyes shining in the lamplight. Isaac went to bed an hour ago, and even though it’s nearing my usual bedtime, this was the only time Hestia could meet with me after seeing to the needs of the maids and servants who worked under her rule. “How is Mystica?”
“Not good,” I say, swallowing thickly. “I wanted to speak with you about that, that’s why I called this meeting.”
“We have not formally sat down together to discuss anything yet, Luna,” she replies, a twinkle in her eye. “May I be frank with you?”
“Of course,” I say, though I’m slightly unnerved by her tone.
“Is your discomfort with me because of Trinity? Or only because Poppy still acts as your personal maid and informal secretary, and therefore you and I rarely need to cross paths?”
“A bit of both,” I admit, then sip my tea. The maids must be gossiping about Trinity and I. I expected it, of course; those things are entirely out of my control, but I wonder what Hestia has heard about it, and whose side she’s on now that I’m her Luna.
She continued, “I find Trinity to be…taxing, if I’m being honest. She had no idea what this role entailed when she interviewed me, and I found myself having to give her direction during that initial interview on matters that had nothing to do with me and I shouldn’t have been privy to. However, I chalked it up to her being young and inexperienced. I didn’t know about the… situation.”
“You didn’t know about me?” I say with a laugh. Her dark brown hair, cut just above the shoulders and stick straight, trembles as she nods and chuckles lightly to herself.
“What a mess,” she breathes, and the shallow look behind her eyes warms. I shift in my seat, feeling a prickle of warmth blooming in my chest, but it’s not enough to squelch the skepticism I felt toward the woman.
“It really is,” I agree, then set my tea cup down and clear my throat. “I have no intentions of hiring a new housekeeper unless your loyalty lies with Trinity. She is not the lady of the house. She is not the Luna. I am.” I barely recognize my own voice. “When I first arrived at the castle and met the housekeeper, she was a fearsome thing and took certain liberties with me that I won’t allow to happen again. You’d be my second in command in matters of the castle, and I need to be able to trust that you’ll have not only my best interests in mind, but also that of the staff.” A shiver goes down my spine as I think of Mrs. Worthingshchorchester–whatever the fuck her name was.
Hestia raises a thin, brown brow at me as I shift in my seat.
“A maid was murdered,” I continue, choking on the words. “And now Mystica is dying.”
“And the staff will need a lot of support to work through the trauma of losing two of their own,” she continues, nodding at me. “I understand.”
“I’m not ready for Mystica to die,” I admit. “I’m not ready for my own selfish reasons and because of the way the staff feels about her, and her skills in the infirmary. Many of these men and women grew up in poverty, following old laws and traditions. They’re used to the old way of things. Mystica being a traditional healer has been a… comfort to them, especially during these trying times. I need you to find someone to replace her when the time comes.”
I want to cry. I don’t want to talk about replacing Mystica right now, not when she could slip through my fingers any moment.
But I am the Luna, and this is my house. This is just the way things have to be, I guess.
“Of course,” Hestia says as she pours me a second cup of the sweet smelling tea. “And what of Poppy?”
“What about Poppy?”
“When she returns to Maatua with her mate,” Hestia says, her eyes focusing on mine. “You will need to hire a new maid for yourself, someone with experience. While we have a wonderful staff, none of the younger maids have ever tended to Lunas.”
“I hadn’t thought about it,” I reply, tapping my fingers on the cup.
“Would you consider Trinity for the role?”
I look up at Hestia, arching an eyebrow, whatever warmth I felt for her, whatever trust, fading in an instant.
“Why would I consider Trinity for the role?”