Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(127)

“What do you do?”

“I’m a clerk at Rasputin Records on Telegraph.”

“So that’s what, slightly better than minimum wage?” I waited for her to nod before I said, “I can pay you thirty dollars an hour, and if you don’t have a car, I can pick you up wherever you want.”

“What, you mean the,” she made a circling motion with her hand, “thing? And how are you going to pay me? My bank doesn’t take fairy gold.”

“Funny thing: neither did the BART system. I’ve been working mortal jobs for a hundred years, and I’ve been socking it all away against a time when I might actually want to buy something. If the imposter who stole my family’s throne had ever thought to check with Wells Fargo, she would have found me a long time ago.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. “So, what, you’re loaded?”

“Let’s just say that I never need to worry about money.” I shrugged. “I can pay you. I can work around your school schedule. And I can give you a room here, if you were thinking it might be nice to get out of your parents’ house. That maybe you’re ready to start dating without worrying about them waiting up for you.”

Her cheeks flared red. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, but I’m that observant, and he’s cute. A little nerdy for my tastes, I’ll admit. Still cute.” I took one more bite of my sandwich before putting it down. “I’m not asking you to swear fealty on the spot. Just give me a try.”

“What would I be doing? I’m twenty-two, studying for my physics degree, and have basically no skills applicable to a noble household. Unless you wanted me to peel potatoes, and you already have someone for that.”

“I want you to translate for me.” Her shocked expression made smiling easier. “You know how purebloods are. Honestly, right now, you probably know better than I do. And you can explain to people that sometimes the Queen says the wrong thing out of habit without it coming off as condescending. I’ll need you less as I learn more, and who knows? You might find that you like working for me. Having a scientist on the staff wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“What happens when I get my degree and want to go off and, you know, do physics? I’m going to figure out what magic is. That means I’m going to need resources.”

“First, again, rich. You get your degree and convince me this is a question worth answering—and I think it is—I can set you up with your own lab. A legit one, even. There’s a computer company in the South Bay, Tamed Lightning, that’s a part of my demesne. I can get them to help us make you look totally normal, and you can do your work on my dime. If we become the kingdom where all the big breakthroughs are made, I won’t complain. Second, even if you don’t want to feel beholden, do you really expect me to believe that a tenure-track position won’t mysteriously open up the second you want it? Changeling or not, you’re fae. Someone will make it happen for you. Don’t try to convince me you’d refuse it because you want to earn it. You’re a changeling, you’re a woman, and you eat like someone who knows what it is to be hungry. You’ve already earned it by living this long.”

“Huh,” said Cassandra, after a long pause. “I’d ask whether you’d practiced that, but I just met you, so I’m assuming the answer is ‘no.’”

“I had a lot of time to learn how people work,” I said.

Cassandra laughed, and reached for her sandwich.





SIX


We finished eating, and then we finished drinking our mugs of tea, and then the kitchen staffers were looking at us with a mixture of dismay and confusion that made me think it was time to move along. They’d never tell us it was time to leave—I wasn’t sure they were allowed to tell me to leave, since it was my kitchen, my knowe, and most of all, my kingdom—but they weren’t comfortable having us here.

Cassandra moved to pick up her dishes as we stood. I raised a hand, signaling for her to stop. She looked at me, bewildered.

“We need to take our dishes to the sink,” she said.

“If I didn’t already know you lived at home, that would be enough to confirm it,” I said. “We can’t take our dishes to the sink. I mean, we could, but it would be a dire insult to my staff, and they’d either decide they’d done something wrong or that I was showing another place where I couldn’t be a proper queen.”

Cassandra blinked. “So we leave the dishes?” she ventured.

“We leave the dishes,” I said.

We left the dishes. We walked past the relieved staff—who were at least trying not to look like they were happy we were finally getting out of their space—and into the hall, where Walther was waiting. I stopped. Cassandra stopped. An awkward silence fell.

Finally, Walther said, “I looked inside, but you seemed happy with your tea and your, you know, girl talk, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

My heart sank. Good news would have had him interrupting us without hesitation. Good news would have had him trumpeting it from the rooftops, because good news would have meant he could go home. “What is it?”

“Do you want to talk about that here?”

No. I did not. I didn’t want to talk about it anywhere. I wanted it to go away, to not exist. I wanted my brother back, and I—by Oberon—did not want to keep my composure any longer. “Let’s go back to the room.”