Rhea wants nothing more than to kill her father. But not just because he's any run-of-the-mill scumbag. No, he's a god. And he's the one who cursed her with being a goldblood -- half human, half godling. Good for her, she's willing to do anything to...
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THE NEXT DAY, THE STRANGE MAN WITH THE BRIEFCASE COMES AGAIN.
I am once again leaving when he enters the room with the son. I once again, crouch outside the door, listening for something, anything to give me an idea of what he was doing here, and what the family was trying to do.
It was clear to me now that they would do anything to heal the woman, whether it be the father or son.
"...something interesting...," I hear the son say.
"What? ...impossible...there can't be such a thing." That's Bran.
"....know about possible...but...anything to help..." The son again.
"How do you know about this?" Bran says, loud.
"...talked to..."
"You talked to a maid? A staff member?" At this point, Bran is shouting. I do not need to strain my ears to hear him. "She could be lying to you! Wanting to gain your favor! You must never trust the help, they are always trying to get something on you!"
"...not like that..." The son, trying to calm the father.
Some murmurs tell me that someone, perhaps the wife or the outsider are speaking. I am able to catch a few more snippets, though nothing coherent.
It won't be long before trouble comes. I might as well make it easier for it for find me. Time to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
I go to Rowena and volunteer to serve diner tonight. She gives me a knowing look, which I take as approval.
The rest of the day passes quickly, not in hours, but in tasks. I am either washing dishes or chopping mint or shelling peanuts. There is always something to be done.
I know it is time when the mute enter the kitchen and pick up their trays. I take my place among them without a word.
Tonight's dinner is a mix of seafood in a flavorful, spiced sauce that makes my stomach rumble. As we serve it, I linger near the son and he gives me meaningful glance. He hands me his wine glass to refill. When I pull my hand away to set it down, a folded napkin is stuck in my hand.
A note, perhaps. I immediately crumble it, making to throw it away, but in the last moment, slide it up my sleeve.
When dinner is finished, I hurry to my hidden room and open the folded up napkin.
Meet me on the balcony.
And what else can I do but do as the young master says?
So when everyone is breathing slowly and evenly, I slip out of bed again and head up to the balcony on the second floor.
"There you are," he says when he sees me. There is no moon tonight, so he is half hidden in shadows when he turns around to face me.
I give him a small curtsy, and he gestures to a chair next to him. "Here, sit."
