The servant quickly backs out, mumbling she’ll bring food, and I set about to really study how they incorporate modern conveniences with magic. There’s an overhead crystal chandelier, but I can’t find any wall switches to turn it on. Though enough light is coming in through one of the windows right now, I can tell by the dimming that dusk is approaching.
I notice lamps on either side of the bed, but they have no visible knobs to turn them on. In my study, my hand accidentally brushes against the base, and light emanates from it. I bend, peek under the shade, and can see no discernible bulb, just a hazy bright glow that doesn’t hurt my eyes to stare directly at it.
Glancing back to the chandelier, I confirm it too doesn’t have any bulbs but is made entirely of crystals strung together. I hadn’t noticed the lack of bulbs in the throne room chandelier earlier, but I’d only given it a glance. Regardless, the one here in the bedroom is way too high for me to reach—assuming I also need to touch it to turn it on—so I move on.
In the bathroom, there are all the modern conveniences. Sinks with running water, a flushable toilet, and the massive bath has hot and cold faucets. The vanity is filled with bottles of sweet-smelling liquids, two of which I discern by feel and texture must be shampoo and conditioner. Towels are hanging on racks, and a fluffy bathrobe is on a hook on the wall.
There’s no TV that I can find, but I really didn’t expect to. I did, however, find what I guess would be the fae version of a stereo. It’s a silver box on a wall table with glowing knobs that doesn’t open anywhere that I can see. The first knob I turn causes a tinkling music to filter in the air that sounds like a melody of chimes, a harp, and maybe a flute. It’s beautiful and soothing, so I leave it on.
My exploration complete, I wonder how to bide my time, wishing I’d brought my sketchbook now. But no sooner do I settle onto the bed with my back propped against pillows, the door opens, and the female servant is back. She has a tray with a domed silver lid and a pitcher of some type of clear, fizzy liquid.
I follow her to the corner of the room that holds the round table and chairs, and my stomach rumbles loudly as she removes the dome lid. I’m stunned to see two slices of New York-style pepperoni pizza and a Caesar side salad.
I was expecting some sort of weird roast beast and hot pink vegetables or something.
Not only am I surprised that my favorite meal of all time is before me, but I also realize with awe that it must have been Carrick who ordered this as he happens to know very well this is my favorite meal. I ate a lot of it at his house on the evenings I trained with Titus, and he’d always grouse about how I could eat the same thing over and over and not get sick of it.
The servant backs out and I sit, underestimating just how hungry I am. It takes me less than ten minutes to polish everything off, including the fizzy drink, which I believe was Sprite. I make a mental note to ask Carrick if this was conjured with magic or had someone flitted back to the Earth realm, perhaps to New York, and grabbed this meal for me.
Belly full, mind overwhelmed by everything I’d seen and, most distressing, the news that Carrick is a demi-god, I settle back onto the bed with nothing to do but ponder my new knowledge or sleep.
There’s no time to decide because the bedroom door bursts open again, and two different servants come in. They’re different looking than the first but similar in their dress and subservient attitudes. Quiet, except to tell me that I’m to get ready for the party this evening, they’re completely non-responsive once I start questioning why I have to go.
They ignore me, each having a duty to complete. One clears my dinner, and the other has clothing in her hand that she lays out carefully on the bed.
One of the servants points at the bathroom. “Bathe. Get dressed. Your master will be here to get you within the hour.”
“Master?” I practically screech, but the servants back out of the room and shut the door behind them without any emotion on their faces.
I’m tempted to leave. To go after them and demand they tell me where Carrick is, as well as make them understand he is most definitely not my master. But then I reconsider, knowing I’ll be met with hostility and possibly danger outside of these walls, despite the queen saying I was safe. As Carrick said, trust no fae.