Streamfield Shifters: Hide & Seek

Chapter Twenty

On the morning of the third day, I no longer had any patience left. While I was pretty certain that I would get my ass handed to me either as a leopard or in human form if I tried to bully my way through the manor, I was tired of sitting around.

The novelty of the suite wore off—at least for me—around the middle of the second day. It was about the size of a small apartment, with a sitting room right inside the door followed by a small breakfast area. The bedrooms lay on opposite sides of the suite, each with their own bathrooms. The chairs and sofas looked right out of a Renaissance painting or museum exhibit and at first, I was afraid to do anything more than perch on the edge of them. But my reticence wore off quickly and soon, Rachael and I were lounging on them as if we were back home.

But of all the things in the apartment, I really loved the bed. It was a magnificent, comfy, four-poster complete with curtains sporting a variation of the rose pattern on the walls. That first night, I actually slept through the maid bringing in breakfast.

Rachael endured our confinement as only a teenager could: by playing on her phone. After she realized that the battery wasn't going to hold its charge for much longer, she conjured up entertainment for herself by opening every drawer, poking into each closet and removing all the paintings, looking for hidden clues or passageways. To her dismay (and strangely, mine), there were none.

There was a small balcony that afforded us a view down into a massive hedge maze and garden. Admittedly, spying upon elven nobility from up high was fun—for a day. But all they did was stroll. That was it. You mean to tell me that all those period dramas had it wrong? That no one got into fist fights or challenged someone to a duel over a pretty lady in a garden?

"Would it kill anyone to give us an update?" I asked aloud, draped across one of the chairs in the sitting room. We had just had lunch and the maid who brought it had no information for us.

Rachael lay half on one of the couches, half on the floor, thumbing through some of the books a footman brought up the other day. Neither one of us could read the elven script, but the illustrations were pretty.

"Does that mean you're going to do it?" she asked, sitting up and curling her legs beneath her.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Although it was cool in the manor, my black locks had taken it upon itself to start curling wildly in the Summer climate. Pulling a hair tie off my wrist, I twisted my hair up into a ponytail. "Yeah." I leaned back and stared up at the scrolling vines that weaved their way across the ceiling. "I mean, I'm not asking for us to be included in a raid upon this doomsday cult, or whatever it is."

"You just want some common courtesy."

"Yeah," I said, chucking wryly. Although there wasn't anything "common" about royalty—human or elven.

"Just go," Rachael insisted. "Unless you want me to." She wriggled her eyebrows comically.

"Oh, hell no," I told her, smiling. Turning my head, I looked at the door. My smile faded. I was going to have to do it.

Just rip off the band-aid, I thought, getting to my feet. Jaw clenched tightly, I crossed the suite and reached for the door knob. As I twisted it and pulled the door open, a footman stood there, his hand raised to knock. I yelped and jumped backwards, alerting Rachael. She rushed up with surprising swiftness to stand at my shoulder.

For his part, the footman flinched but recovered smoothly. Straightening his waistcoat, he inclined his head to us. "His Royal Highness has requested your presence in his study, my ladies."

Well, that was serendipitous, wasn't it? "Uh, right now?" I asked, glancing down at my pajama pants and bare feet.

"Immediately," the footman affirmed. "A selection of dresses have been made available for your use," he continued, motioning to someone in the hall. Before I could reply, two maids hustled in and pushed past us into the sitting room.