The carriage ride started out pleasant before torturing Lucian. The road was large and the sky so blue--fit for a Queen's escort. The horses galloped with ease, their fiery manes crackling against the wind. The wheels didn't squeak and the driver didn't speak.
It would have been the perfect ride…if the open path hadn't started narrowing. Lucian peeked out the window and saw the silver-leafed trees lining either side of the road lean toward the carriage. It was like being stuck between two gossiping old ladies.
The narrower the road got, the colder it felt, too. It reminded Lucian, oddly enough, of the first time he rode on a hearse. Exciting but also dreadful, because they were going to a cemetery.
"Almost there," Rosa whispered as she continued knitting. She hadn't spoken in two hours.
Lucian nodded and reviewed the Grimoire's notes on Lira Veil. "A duty-bound maid who likes to fold napkins. This should be interesting."
+
The sun started sinking behind the mountains as the carriage pulled up to a wrought iron gate. Sweetwater Farm was a large estate surrounded by an old stone fence. Overgrown weeds had claimed most of the fertile soil. The left side of the house had partially collapsed and Lucian saw a few exposed beams.
He saw some dead ivy hanging weakly from the stone fence. He looked at the estate and thought, You must have been beautiful once.
Still, he saw a small, flickering light in one of the ground floor windows. Someone was home.
Lucian alighted the carriage and heard his boots crush some gravel. What he hadn't expected was the biting cold. Tiny icicles had already begun forming on the silver-leafed trees. But it didn't stop there.
The cold hugged his lungs and joints—he even felt it in his teeth. Lucian's breath came out in tiny clouds. The wind bit his cheeks and Lucian wished he'd worn a scarf.
Which was odd, because when they left the castle, it was springtime. Sweetwater, on the other hand, was in the middle of a cold snap.
Ah well. It's only a short walk, I'll live.
Rosa stepped out and stayed near the carriage.
"I'll stay here. This is your test, after all."
He felt even more anxious, but nodded. "Fair enough. I'll be back." Lucian approached the door but before he could grab the knocker, it opened with a soft click. It was more subtle than the groaning castle doors.
Lira stood in the doorway holding a tea tray. She looked freshly dead—he could have sworn her skin still had some pink hues in it. Lucian had seen corpses that were barely hanging by their sinews in the castle.
Her dress, though worn, was pressed and clean. Lira's hair was tied back in a braided bun, and stared at him from behind horn-rimmed glasses. "Welcome to the Sweetwater Estate," She said, as if it was just another Thursday.
"You're just in time for supper."
Lucian opened his mouth. "I—"
"Please, come in. The fire's nice and warm."
+
The living room was eerily preserved. Every surface was wiped clean while dust motes clung to the edges of furniture. A pleasant rosy smell clung to the air and the fireplace roared with life. Lucian sat close to the fireplace, Grimoire stuffed in his coat, and observed Lira.
She moved like a wind-up doll. Every few steps she would turn and find another task to complete.
Lira walked into the kitchen and Lucian heard her rummaging through cabinets, and the water tap running. Moments later, she placed a glass teapot and a matching cup in front of him.
It was full of herbs he didn't recognize, and in the candlelight, the liquid looked pink. Kind of like hibiscus tea.
"I'm sorry for the lack of biscuits," Lira said. "It's been difficult to find flour lately."
Lucian shook his head. "That's all right Lira. I'm not here as a guest. I'm…"
She didn't even look at him. Lira disappeared into the kitchen and he heard the clattering of pots and pans.
The mortician tried again. "Lira?"
No answer.
"Lira, I wanted to speak with you about your rest."
He heard a faucet open in response.
Lucian sighed and entered the kitchen. Lira was by the sink, washing a stack of too-clean dishes.
He took a step closer.
"Lira, why are you still here?"
The faucet squeaked and the water stopped running. "Because no one told me to leave."
She stacked the dishes on a drying rack and took two into the dining room.
Lucian heard the soft clink of porcelain and silver. Lira was setting the table.
His throat felt dry again, but he didn't want to risk drinking something unfamiliar in front of a possibly hostile maid. "Lira, do you have any water?"
She visibly stiffened. "Oh…not very fond of tea?"
Lucian shook his head. "I enjoy it, but I just arrived yesterday. I don't know if it's safe to drink."
One of Lira's hands creased her apron. "The lady of the house always said it was rude to refuse a drink. Especially pinkberry. It was her favorite."
He was about to ask again when the Grimoire appeared in front of him.
[ASSIGNMENT UPDATE - SWEETWATER ESTATE]
Lira Veil's Hostility Level: Low
Rite Rejection Risk: Moderate
Note: DO NOT RUSH THE MAID.
Lucian's brow furrowed and he forced himself to count to ten. Why couldn't she let him do his job? At this rate, he would have to stay overnight or sleep in the carriage.
"All right. I'll give it a try," Lucian mumbled and returned to the dining room table. He finally risked a sip of the tea. It was cold and refreshing but—he winced as a sweet taste hit his tongue—much too sweet.
"Oh. So she really is just doing her job." He glanced out the window and saw an old stone well behind the estate. It was a pretty and unsettling picture: a crow perched on the cracked rim and behind the well was a wall of pine trees.
As Lira lit a lamp that hung by the well, Lucian thought he saw a shimmering shadow along the edge of the well…as if it wanted to greet him.
I've got to see what's up with that well. Lucian took another sip. It was like drinking honey to quench his thirst. He reached into his pocket for Rosa's water flask and held it to his ear. Yes! There's a little bit left.
He hoped it would be enough to dilute the pinkberry tea. Lucian poured the water into his glass cup and spilled some of it on the tablecloth.
"Oh, darn. Sorry, Lira," he mumbled, and used one of the napkins to wipe it away.
"You…someone finally used it." Lira's voice said, completely in awe. "Someone used a napkin." The temperature around the room dropped immediately, despite the fire.
Lucian blinked, completely confused. "Is…is that important?"
The maid's voice almost cracked. "It is for me, mortician. It is for me."
"So I get to put you to rest now?" Lucian asked.
There was a long pause. Some embers from the fire jumped up and singed his hair.
Lira looked at him, her mouth set in a grim line.
"Get out."