Bleeding Bird

III

"I took a nap, and at some point, I wandered out into the garden," she stuttered.

"Hm," Auntie Jude muttered, "Well, I don't serve late guests—even if it's their first meal with us," she added when Meredith looked about to speak. "You'll learn to be on time."

Helen felt her cheeks grow red hot. Her parents, well, her father had bene the authority in her life. She loved rules and structure. Even though she'd grown up semi in the wilderness with her father and Ramses, she knew rules. Most had to observe strict rules these days if they wanted to survive. But she thrived on them. They helped give her direction and understanding. They encouraged peace. Not to mention, they helped her form connections with her superiors. She hated looking careless, and childish, and irresponsible.

"I'm sorry," Helen said, "it won't happen again."

Auntie Jude didn't even reply. She simply turned to the man sitting next to her and began talking about that ongoing crow crisis in cities. There was nothing new.

Helen swallowed and Lillian said, "come on, I know where we can get something to eat."

Helen reluctantly followed Lillian out of the dining hall and deeper into the house. They slid through corridors, all the while, Helen scolding herself. How could she have lost track of time so easily? Honestly, she didn't remember going to the barns at all. Why would she have thought that was a good idea? She had no real interest in them. But she obviously did! What was I thinking? She wondered, trying to picture her thoughts.

"In here," Lillian said, ducking into a room.

Upon further inspection, it was a kitchen. There were cooks bustling about, preparing dessert for the crowd Auntie Jude had gathered. They paid little mind to the girls, though Lillian waved to many of them and exchanged a few words.

"Are we supposed to be in here?" Helen asked as they skirted around the kitchen.

"No, but it's fine. I know the cooks," Lillian said.

"You seem to know everyone," Helen shrugged.

"When you live here, that happens. You'll see," Lillian said. "Hey, Donna!" she approached a girl washing pans at the furthest sink.

The girl glared up at them, blowing her straight brown hair out of her face. Bubbles hugged her arms and floated around her face. One ruptured by her head and her face grew more sour, if possible. "What?"

"Can we get a few bites to eat?" Lillian asked.

"Sure, let me finish this stupid dish," the girl, Donna, turned back to the sink, scrubbed a little harder and then pulled the plug, draining the old water. "Follow me," she said, rubbing her hands off on her pants. It surprised Helen that any of the female staff were allowed to wear pants, but she supposed it made sense here in the kitchen. Dresses would grow old too quickly.

Donna lead them toward another corner of the room, forcing tight-lipped smiles at those who passed. She snagged a few plates of left over food, and lead them back into the hallway. "Here you go, dinner."

"Thank you," Helen said, feeling a little guilty, "how do we get these back to you?"

"Don't worry about it," Donna shrugged. "Leave them in your room. They maid'll get them."

"Donna," Lillian said, but there was little correction there. "This, is Helen—Jude's great niece."

Donna smiled, a friendlier smile than she'd given the other people in the kitchen, "I'm Donna. I work in the kitchen."

"But she used to work as a maid," Lillian said.

Donna nodded, "and in the barns, and I was even a butler in training."

Helen nodded.

"I'm bored, you two want to do something?" Donna asked. "Toran is working, and Daria isn't visiting today."

Helen tried not to look obviously left out, but she didn't know who any of these people were.

"Toran is our roommate," Lillian explained, "She is studying the architecture of this place. She's supposed to be helping design a new wing—"

"But she's either writing letters to her boo, Jeckyll, or avoiding all work," Donna shrugged.

"Daria is a merchant's daughter, we work with her occasionally. She comes with him on trips," Lillian said.

"I see," Helen nodded, trying to keep track of everyone she'd met so far.

"Let's go to the roof. Check out Tressenon," Donna shrugged.

Before Helen could ask what Tressenon was, the other girls lead her back upstairs, passed the living quarters and to a turret. There was a stairwell leading to the top of the building. The turret had a flat disc-shaped roof, and was all old wood in the top like an attic. There was one grand window, and an old cob-webby bench across it.

Immediately, Donna and Lillian planted themselves there. Lillian drew a pair of goggles from a ratty old bag under the bench and peered out the window. "Toran might be insane," she muttered, "but she's not wrong all the time."

"What are you looking at?" Helen asked, narrowing her eyes.

"The boys' school," Lillian said.

"There's nobody good there," Donna shrugged, "but my mom's told me I need to at least look." She accepted the goggles and glanced out the window. The school was probably miles away, but these goggles had been designed for scouts. Helen wondered how they'd procured a pair this nice. She supposed she might not want to know.

"We should go," Lillian said.

"Yes," Donna nodded.

"But..." Lillian sighed, "it's getting late..."

Assuming her aunt had no further instruction for her this evening, Helen was interested in an adventure.

"One night," Donna said, "you can nap tomorrow."

Lillian shrugged, "let's go."

"Okay," Helen nodded.