Free Melissa McShane by Melissa Proffitt Page B

chamber. Zerafine sat in her abandoned chair, dropped the folder of reports on the floor, and put her face in her hands.
    Berenica, Genedirou, Dakariou. Spirits with no tangible form; apparitions of dead people—
    damn, she hadn’t thought to ask if any of them had become actual ghosts when they died. That would have been a pertinent question. Well, it could wait until tomorrow. She was sweaty and needed another bath.
    The servant reappeared from what she imagined must be the kitchen and bowed, very low.
    “Madama thelis , I must apologize for my inexcusably lax behavior—”
    “Please don’t,” she said, and then, hearing how abrupt she sounded, added, “People have
    been apologizing to me all day. Can we just skip to the part where you’ve apologized and I’ve excused you and told you to be more alert in the future? My name is Zerafine. What’s yours?”
    “Aesoron, madama thelis ,” he said, again bowing low. “The tokthelis has assigned me to your household.” A small, thin woman appeared in the kitchen doorway. “This is Fidonia, your cook. We are ready for your instructions...perhaps you would like to order dinner?”
    “What time is it? It can’t be much past two. Shall we say—Gerrard, when do you want to
    eat?”
    “Now,” he replied from far down the hall.
    “Ignore him, he’s always hungry. Can you give him something now, and have the evening
    meal ready at seven?”
    “Whatever madama thelis wishes,” Aesoron said, bowing yet again.
    “Thank you. What madama thelis wishes is that you call her simply thelis , and please stop bowing. I think we shall get along just fine, don’t you?”
    Aesoron began to bow, caught himself, and nodded instead. Zerafine shucked her robe and
    peeled off her slightly sweaty hood and cowl. “Hang these somewhere until I find a place that can clean them properly, would you?”
    Aesoron took them without flinching. “I can take care of that, thelis .”
    “Can you? Excellent. I’ll need them again in the morning. Now I’m going to bathe and
    probably take a nap. If I’m not up by six, please wake me then.” In Atenas’s name, having servants again was lovely. Zerafine went down the hall to find Gerrard, who was watching
    Nacalia bounce on a large bed covered with a blanket done in an eye-watering pink and turquoise pattern.
    “Nacalia, don’t bother the servants,” he said, and took Zerafine’s arm to lead her back down the hall out of earshot. “I’m starting to worry that we’ve done the wrong thing by her,” he said in a low voice, scratching his beard. “The first thing she told me, when I showed her that room, was that her whole family lived in a space only twice that size. She’s never had a bed she didn’t have to share. What’s going to happen to her when we leave?”
    “It never occurred to me that we weren’t doing her any favors,” Zerafine admitted. “But
    what are we supposed to do? We’ve already contracted for her time, and it would break her heart if we sent her away early—and not, I think, because she’d miss the luxury. I’m getting fond of her myself.”
    “Do not suggest that we adopt her.”
    “Not on your life! But we need to consider making other arrangements. We put her in this
    position; we’re responsible for her now.” Zerafine scrubbed at the hair at the base of her neck, which felt stiff with sweat. “Maybe I should cut my hair short like Giara’s.”
    Gerrard eyed her skeptically. “You’d regret it come the winter,” he said. “Besides, you have nice hair.”
    “Thank you. I’m going to wash it now and then take a very lazy, very long nap. Then I’m
    going to go over these notes. Pity me.”
    “So I can consider myself off duty for the afternoon?”
    “What, I’m a duty now? Thanks so much.”
    “You have no idea how much work it is keeping you out of trouble.” Gerrard ran his fingers through his hair, which made it stand up in wiry tufts, unlike Dakariou’s smooth curls. “I may go