You Are Mine (Mine, #1)(45)







I wait in the entryway for my new servant. It makes me feel like mother. She often stood waiting for guests or Father like this, though always people of note, not servant girls. Cynthia lingers beside me playing with her beaded necklace.

Chancellor Zade didn't stay with us, instead rushing out to greet her. Treatment of servants in Envado must be more different than I presumed.

“I can't believe you're getting an Envadi servant,” Cynthia says. “It will make you the talk of the town. Everyone will be jealous. No one's ever had a servant from Envado before.”

“One that's paid? Doubtful they'll be envious.”

“Paid?”

“Apparently, it's how things are done there. Chancellor Zade's manservant must be as well.”

“That's different.”

I almost mention how I like the idea, but hold back. I don't want my own sister to think I'm going mad.

The front door opens and the Chancellor strides in, a huge smile on his face. Behind him is a woman. She's almost as tall as my intended, but not quite. Certainly taller than my sisters and me. She's wearing a serviceable gown. Dark blue, appropriate length, not too fancy, but neat and clean.

She's close to my age, though older or younger than me, I'm not quite sure. Her face is smooth, cheeks still a little babyish, but she carries herself as if she were, well, as if she were a man. Long striding steps, full of confidence and power. Intimidating. She's very pretty though. Her long blonde hair complements her tanned skin.

“May I present, Miss Waverly.” Chancellor Zade gives my new servant a genuine smile.

She looks down at me with piercing brown eyes and grins. “A pleasure to meet you.”

This is so different from customary servant behavior, I can do nothing but stare.

“Are you really from Envado?” Cynthia asks.

“I am.”

“Do they host balls there?”

What's she getting at?

Waverly tilts her head to the side, brow crinkled. “Of course we do.”

“Then you can help us plan.” Cynthia turns to me. “Isn't this perfect Serena? She can help make the ball really stand out. We'll make you the talk of the town. Now if only Father allows Bethany to come, it will be the best Chardonia has ever seen.”

“You're planning a ball?” Waverly asks.

“I—” The Chancellor clears his throat. “This is something I just learned about. I hoped you'd be willing to help with it.”

“I'd love to help.” Waverly faces me. “Balls are my favorite sort of thing.”

“Let's get you to your room.” Chancellor Zade turns to a waiting servant, Phyllis. “Show Miss Waverly to the servant quarters. Once she's ready, show her around and explain her duties.”

“Yes, Master,” Phyllis says.

He scowls until Waverly says, “Wonderful. I'll see you soon.” She curtsies at the Chancellor. “Master.” She turns to me and gives another curtsy. “Mistress.”

A smile flickers across his face. Phyllis leads her from the room. What sort of servant have I been gifted this time?

***

Cynthia's really taken to talking during dinner. I don't believe she's taken a bite of dessert. Rather unfortunate. It's yummy, a sort of flaky shortbread with seared and chilled bananas.

Her excitement about the festivities is a relief, if a bit much to listen to. Inviting adequate dance partners for her will have to be one of my priorities.

I polish off my dessert and wait for Cynthia and Chancellor Zade to finish. And wait. And wait.

“We must make good use of the gardens. It might be cool for the fall, but the trees will be lovely colors. If only more flowers would be in bloom.”

“We could spell them to bloom for the night,” the Chancellor suggests.

“You can do that? That's wonderful. Don't you think, Serena?”

“Yes, it will be. If you'll forgive me, I must excuse myself.” Jumping at the chance, I stand.

“I've got to leave, too,” Chancellor Zade says, already on his feet.

His dessert is untouched. Come to think of it, he didn't eat much at dinner. And why is he leaving at the same time as me?

“Goodnight, Cynthia,” he says.

“Goodnight,” she says. “I have more ideas we can discuss in the morning.”

Zade leads me through the halls. The farther we go, the more my nerves jitter inside me. It seems to take longer than usual. What could he want? Is he going to punish me for something? When we stop at the foot of the stairs leading to my room, he pulls both of my hands into his. I'm sure he can feel me shaking, but whether it's from worrying or the contact, I don't know.

He says, “If you have any issues with Waverly, will you tell me?”

Why's he so concerned? Is it for me or her? It must be for her. He's never been this way with me before. “If you wish.”

“Thank you. Please be nice to her. It's difficult being in a new country with unfamiliar people.”

“Is that how it is for you?”

His lips turn up in an almost smile. “It was. Sometimes it still is. A lot of times, I guess. Notably when I attend council meetings. I'm growing more comfortable with it, though it hasn't been long. I'm sure Waverly will adjust quickly.”

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