Free Banquet of Lies by Michelle Diener

had run straight for the gate she’d been crouched above, only minutes after she’d left.
    It was possible he’d gone over the wall shortly before she had herself, and while she sat on it watching the house, he’d been breaking in. The thought of how close she’d come to running straight into him had fear holding her close with hoary, freezing hands.
    And then Aldridge added terror to fear, with his mention of an accomplice. If someone had watched her climb the wall, then followed her back to Aldridge House afterward, she was as good as dead.
    The shadow man had used an accomplice at Tessin Palace to draw her father out. It wasn’t inconceivable he would use one here. Her hands tightened on the cupboard door she was opening, and she wanted to withdraw to her room, cover her head with the blankets and stay there until everything went away.
    She could only hope the sense she’d had of malevolent eyes on her in the alley was just in her mind. Some kind of reaction to her memories of the night her father was killed.
    She stared into the cupboard, blinked, and reached for a hessian sack of beans with an exclamation of delight, lifting out the coffee in triumph.
    She sniffed it.
    What little smell there was was moldy, and she was horrified to find tears suddenly in her eyes.
    A headache beat a steady rhythm in her head, and she stood with the bag in hand, trying to get herself under control. She wanted a cup of coffee, needed one, but a bad cup was worse than no cup at all.
    “What’s that?” Edgars stepped out of his rooms so quietly she almost dropped the bag.
    “Coffee beans.” She massaged her temple with stiff fingers. Perhaps she should just get a fresh bag at the market.
    “Yours?” Edgars sounded surprised.
    “No. I found them in the pantry, but they’re too old to use.” Her voice was hoarse, as if she had a cold.
    He shrugged. “His lordship doesn’t take coffee at home; he gets it when he’s out. No need to get any more.”
    Gigi lifted her head sharply, her temper flaring. “There is every need to get more.” She tossed the beans on the table. “Whether his lordship takes coffee at home or not, I require it. In my cooking, at times, but also to drink. Especially if I am to get up at dawn to go to the markets.” She picked up the cooling cup of tea Mavis had made her, took a sip, and shuddered.
    It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t coffee.
    She put it back down and stepped away from it.
    “I’ll ask his lordship if he will allow it.” Edgars pursed his lips, and she saw something in the way he did it—an edge of power, being used for its own sake.
    From the corner of her eye, she noticed Iris coming down the stairs. She ignored her and stared straight at Edgars. There was too much beating at her, and coffee was the last straw. Coffee, and Edgars’ attempts to put her in her place. She would show him her place, all right.
    “I will get the coffee now when I’m at the market, Mr. Edgars, as part of the household shopping. And you are welcome to tell his lordship all about it. If Lord Aldridge cannot afford to let his cook drink coffee if she wants to, or if he is so petty as to not allow anyone in his house to drink something he doesn’t wish to drink, even though it will not affect him in the slightest, then he has hired the wrong cook and I will give my notice immediately. You can hurry along and tell him atyour earliest convenience—or even better, I’ll do it myself.” She was breathing in sharp, quick pants.
    It was insupportable.
    Some people had to live with this! Had to take it, too, because they couldn’t simply walk away from their jobs. They needed them.
    And so did she, she remembered belatedly. Where else would she find a place so well situated to watch Goldfern?
    No matter. She forced herself to keep her rigid posture. If she couldn’t drink coffee in this house, she would rather make another plan.
    It wasn’t about the coffee, anyway. It was about egos and control.
    She