His forehead scrunched. “Your accent is odd. Are you from one of the villages?”
“Yes.” Ivan’s words rang in my head. “I’m from Fablemarch Vale.”
“I see. I didn’t realize they’d found a replacement so soon. Usually takes weeks to find someone the queen approves of.”
“Yes, I got lucky, I suppose.” I cleared my throat and glanced away. The intensity of his gaze unnerved me. “I’d like to get to work as soon as possible. I was told to find the kitchens. Do you know where they are?”
“Of course. I was just headed that way. Would you like to come with me?”
“Oh...” I glanced down the hall, to the rooms I hadn’t checked. I’d have to find another time. “Sure,” I answered. “That would be great. Thank you.”
I followed him through the maze of hallways, our footsteps echoing through the corridors, until we ascended a staircase and stopped at the top where a plain wooden door barred our path. Cade pulled out a set of keys, then unlocked the door and led me inside.
I followed him into a narrow hall lined in wooden panels. Our footsteps creaked over hardwood floors until we reached a foyer. We passed a fireplace, its brief heat warming me.
Shouting and sounds of clanking pots came from the hall ahead. Cade led me under a red-bricked archway and into a sprawling room filled with cooking stoves and butcher blocks. The scent of warm bread made my mouth water.
Several cooks scurried throughout the room. Arguing came from the far side, where two serving girls wearing black dresses and green plaid aprons stood over a tray of food.
“I told you to serve him the haggis!”
“But I’ve already prepared the porridge.”
“I don’t care. He hates the porridge. And His Majesty asked for haggis.”
A stout woman with heated red cheeks approached us, blocking us from the argument. She wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron.
“Aye, Cade, who’ve you got there?”
“The prince’s new caretaker.” Cade turned to me. “Sabine, meet Mrs. O’Connor. She’s the head cook, among other titles. Housekeeper, too, I hear?”
She waved her hand. “Since the last one quit, aye. Until they find a replacement.”
Cade nodded. “Mrs. O’Connor, this is Sabine Harper.”
“New caretaker, eh?” A thick Scottish accent came through her words. She tucked a curl of wiry red hair under her bonnet. “She’s come just in time. Justine and Abigail were bound to throw punches soon enough while his master’s porridge grows cold.” She turned to the girls. “Justine, His Majesty’s caretaker will serve the porridge, thank you very much. And Abigail, quit your bellyaching over the haggis. The porridge is fine for His Highness.” The girls pouted, but they turned away without another word.
Mrs. O’Connor rounded on me. “Well—” she placed her hands on her wide hips as she cast me a stern glare— “don’t just stand there. Get to it.”
“Don’t I need a uniform?” I asked.
“To carry porridge across a room? I think not. You’ll get your uniform soon enough. Now, there’s no time to waste. His master’s rooms are just out the way you came, past the foyer, and down the hallway on the left. I suppose he’s quite anxious for his breakfast, so you’ll want to hurry.”
Wasn’t it a little late for breakfast? “Okay...”
“Pardon? That’s ‘yes, Mrs. O’Connor’ to you. I see you’ve got a few things to learn, haven’t you?”
I stood stiffly with hands fisted at my sides. I might as well start playing the part. “Yes, Mrs. O’Connor.” I strode away from her, her eyes boring a hole in my back as I passed by the bubbling cooking pots and fires crackling in enormous hearths.
The two serving girls looked up as I approached the food tray.
“Take this then.” One of the girls picked up the tray and thrust it toward me. “I’ve had enough of his awful porridge.” She cast a dark look at the other girl, who only crossed her arms and shot us a glare. I wasn’t sure what to make of the look, but I took the tray and turned away from them.
“Good luck with him,” one of the girls called after me, her tone sharp, as I carried the tray toward the exit. I searched for Cade, but he must’ve gone. The room felt emptier without him. I would have to find him again, if only for the reason of talking to someone halfway friendly.
I made my way out of the kitchens and back the way I’d come, past the fireplace in the foyer, and took the hall to the left.
Walking through the palace felt as if I’d entered a dream. I was too used to the metal walls of the facility, inhaling stale air, going from one training exercise to the next. Finally making it to this reality was surreal, and I couldn’t stop gawking at the paintings on the wall, the rugs made of finely woven linen, the tapestries. So alien, yet so common.
I questioned how it all existed. Was this indeed an alternate reality? Or was there more to it? My only way to find out for sure was to locate the seven pieces of cerecite. I would have to be vigilant at examining everything.
When I reached an open alcove painted in soft grays, a white door with golden ivy leaves barred my way. Balancing the tray on one hand, I knocked with the other. Nerves twisted in my stomach.
As I waited, the image of his portrait formed in my mind with stunning clarity. Dark eyes that held a secret.
I knocked again. A muffled “come in” came from the other side, so I turned the knob and entered the room.
Darkness veiled my vision. I stumbled over thick carpet, almost dropping the porridge. The only light came through gaps in the heavy drapes. The shape of an enormous, canopied bed loomed across the room. I couldn’t discern anything else, so I stepped to the window and pulled back the curtains.
The sound of a deep male voice moaning came from the bed. I turned and found a mop of black hair sticking up beneath the covers. I walked to the bed, placed the tray on the side table, and pulled back the blanket.
“Go away,” he moaned, grabbing the covers, and attempting to pull them away from me.
“I’ve brought your breakfast.”
“I don’t care.”
“But you need to eat.”
“I don’t care!” He yanked the blanket out of my hands. I lost my balance and fell on my backside. Ouch. As I sat on the floor, staring up at the lump beneath the blanket, my temper rose. I got to my feet, stood over him, and grabbed the covers off his face.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Helping you wake up,” I said as politely as I could muster. “It’s nearly noon. I’m your new caretaker, and that’s what I’ll be doing if it’s all the same to you.”
He focused on me for the first time. The intensity in his eyes startled me. Pain and intelligence shone in the dark shade of his pupils. He had an angular face with flawless porcelain skin—his long eye lashes and thick, full lips bordered on pretty, but with the strong line of his jaw, he looked entirely masculine.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
I sighed deeply to keep from saying something I’d regret. “I already told you,” I said patiently. “My name is Sabine Harper. I’m from Fablemarch Vale, and I’m your new caretaker.”
“Caretaker?”
“Yes.”
“Why in the bloody hell did my aunt send another caretaker?”
“Because you needed to be cared for, I assume. If you’re ill, please let me know and I’ll fetch a doctor and let you rest. Otherwise, it’s past time to wake up.”
He scowled, and I got the impression of danger lurking behind his flawless facade. This was a person you didn’t cross. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Caretaker.”
I crossed my arms and bit my tongue. Mima June’s knife weighed heavy in my boot. Just be patient. You can’t kill him, or you’ll lose your job.
He pushed into a sitting position. “Did you hear me?”
“I did.”
“I don’t want to hear your opinions. Got it?”
“Perfectly.” I stood strai
ght, hands behind my back, my days of being chewed out by Logan coming back to me.
“Do you want to keep this job?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
He laughed, a mirthless sound without any hint of cheer. “Then you’d be the first. No one wants to stay here. Everyone quits eventually.”
“I won’t.” Not yet. I picked up the tray and handed the porridge to him. “Eat, please.” I commanded, placing the platter in his lap.
“I hate this stuff.”
“I don’t care. Please eat.”
I spotted a chair beside the window, so I pushed it across the floor and sat. I gave him the sternest look I could muster. I wasn’t backing down. I didn’t care how stubborn he was because I was worse.
He must’ve seen the determination in my eyes because he took a small bite, made a face, then nibbled at another. As he ate, I glanced at the leather band encircling my wrist, wondering if communications would ever be restored, wondering why I was sitting in this bedroom with a thankless prince, wishing I could find the seven pieces of cerecite and figure out what was really going on in this place, and above all else, praying a second wave didn’t hit before I had a chance to succeed..
The prince scooted the bowl of half-eaten food away from him.
“Are you finished?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“But you hardly ate anything.”
“Not hungry.”
I rubbed my forehead where a headache pounded at my temples. “Fine.” I gathered the bowl and tray. If he was done, then so was I.
I left the room, closing the door behind me, then headed for the kitchens. I had more important things to do, anyway.
Chapter 7
I paced my room and repeatedly pressed the metal disc on my bracelet. Rosa’s journal laid on my bed, the pages flipped open, and I’d scanned over every entry, looking for familiar words.
Some had stood out.
Cueva. Cave, maybe?
Estrella. Star.
Some of the drawings looked like rooms in the palace.
Sighing, I smoothed my new uniform—all black, with a dark green plaid sash and dragon pendant.
Pinewood-paneled walls and floors boxed me in. They must’ve put me in the smallest cubby hole in the palace. But I couldn’t complain. The lavatory came with running water, and I had an armoire to store my things. At least I wasn’t sleeping in my quarters at the Vortech facility, where the red lights of blinking cameras loomed in every corner—or camping out in the frozen tundra. Yeah, it could’ve been worse.
I pressed the bracelet’s disc again.
A whisper of static buzzed.
“Agent Fifteen?” I asked. “Can you hear me?”
“...Harper? Are you there?” The sound of Fifteen’s voice made excitement race through me.
“I’m here.”
“How is our connection?” he asked.
“Fine. You’re coming through clearly.”
“That’s a relief,” he said. “I was worried my systems wouldn’t calibrate on this side. I apologize for the loss in communications. How are you?”
“I’m okay,” I answered. “I’m alive. The mission has been a success so far. I met Agent Nordgren and made it to the palace.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re there. Getting inside can be a bit tricky.”
“I noticed.” I glanced at my bed. No reason to waste time. “Fifteen, Nordgren gave me a journal. It’s in Spanish. Can you help me translate it?”
“Of course. Do you have it handy?”
I sat on the bed and flipped to the first page, happy to finally make some progress in translating the journal. “What does the word mentiras mean?”
“Mentiras.” He paused for a moment. “It means lie, as in a falsehood. Something that isn’t true.”
“Lie?” I questioned, confused. “You’re sure about that?”
“Yes,” he answered, his tone robotic.
Lie. Unease clawed at me. This couldn’t be right. “Fifteen, why would Rosa call the seven objects lies?”
The line went silent for a moment. “I would suppose it’s because the objects never stay in their true form. They’re constantly changing, which would make them, in effect, be called false. Or lies.”
I tapped my fingers on my lips as I pondered his words. “Is there any other reason?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Fine,” I said with a sigh. Another mystery to puzzle over. I’d lump it in the category with the unusual grass and the odd-smelling atmosphere. “Help me translate the rest of the words, please.”
“Of course.”
I read through Rosa’s entries, translating as I went, until I came up with a list.
Sound is a lie.
Time is a lie.
Location is a lie.
Matter is a lie.
Light is a lie.
World is a lie.
Poison?
I read over the list until I’d memorized it.
“What do you make of it?” Fifteen asked.
“I’m not sure,” I answered. “But I think Agent Rodriguez must’ve assigned specific tags to every object she found. It was something to correlate with the substance of the object, as giving a physical description would’ve been useless as they change shape so often. My guess is they stay in a certain category. For example, the first object will have something to do with sound. An instrument, a music box, anything that produces sound.”
“Have you seen any instruments in the palace?” Fifteen asked.
I thought back to when I first entered the palace. “I saw some bagpipes earlier. That’s all I’ve seen so far.” I shook my head. “This won’t be easy.”
“Using your scanner on an object you suspect will make the task easier.”
“The lightsaber. Right.”
“Lightsaber?” he questioned.
“It’s a joke, Fifteen. I’ve got to have little fun on this mission, right?”
I grabbed my bag off the floor, searching through the contents until I found the metal tube, about the size of a scroll. A horizontal gap bisected the tube. I pulled on the sides, and it opened to reveal a glass screen.
“How does this work?” I asked Fifteen.
“Accessing the file on function of Vortech Cerecite Scanner. One moment.” A second ticked when he spoke again. “Once you think you’ve found an object, open the scanner, then hold it over the object. Click the button on the bottom right corner, and the device will image and transform it.”
I touched each button, the metal casing chilly.
“The scanner was originally developed to detect the chemical makeup of any given substance,” Fifteen continued. “But Vortech modified it to also detect cerecite—including white cerecite. You can use this device to scan an item, reveal its identity, and then catalog it.”
“Got it.” I pushed it back together with a click and carefully placed the device back in my pack.
“Best of luck, Agent Harper. I know this isn’t an easy task.”
“It’s easier now that I know the journal’s translation.” I ran my fingers over the paper written by Rosa. Was she still alive? Had she died? Had someone killed her? “Fifteen, why didn’t anyone besides Agent Nordgren look for her and the other lost agents?”
“Because Vortech refused to lose anyone else. They had to make sure whoever they sent next was not only capable of finding the hidden cerecite but physically and mentally stable. They had to make sure you would return.”
“I see.” I rapped my fingers on the journal. “Any idea how she went missing? Who might’ve done it?”
“I don’t have a conclusive answer for you, Agent Harper. My programming is limited. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right,” I said with a sigh. “I suppose I should start my search for the objects.”
“Where will you start?” he asked.
“The bagpipes,” I answered. “They’re the only tangible thing I’ve seen so far that correlates with one of Agent Rod
riguez’s clues.”
“I see. Best of luck, Agent Harper.” Again, he repeated the phrase, reminding me this wasn’t a person, but a computer, one programmed to be encouraging. “I’m sure Vortech is anxious for you to complete this mission.”
“I am as well. Thank you.”
The line silenced, and I sat alone in an empty room, with only the muffled sounds of voices outside my door. I hugged my knees to my chest. When I closed my eyes, I saw Dad hunched over the kitchen table with Mima’s death certificate. Coming to this reality was worth it if I could stop a second flare. Queasiness filled me when I thought of Dad’s cancer lying dormant, waiting to take him, just like it had taken my mom, just like it had taken Mima. He’d never survive the second flare, and that was something I wouldn’t let happen.
No. I would fight to find the cerecite and save us from the flare—even if I had lingering doubts about Vortech.
Rubbing my eyes, I shook my head. Sitting and pondering gave me a headache. I would feel better if I went out searching. At least I’d be accomplishing something.
Plus, I had one clue to go on. Bagpipes. I’d look for them first.
Placing the book aside, I stood and smoothed my hand over my black leather vest and dark plaid shawl. Nerves flitted through my stomach. While this reality was strange to be sure, there was more going on here than I’d been told. I prayed I’d avoid being discovered as an agent of Vortech, or else I’d end up like the other missing agents.
Too many questions remained unanswered, and if I happened to find the answers while searching for the cerecite, then so be it.
After stepping into the hallway, I headed to the staircase leading to the main tier. With any luck, the musicians would still be playing outside.
My booted feet echoed on the stones until I reached the foyer I’d entered earlier. The expanse of marble tiles reflected the afternoon sunlight as it drifted through the tall windows.
A few people passed me, but most didn’t glance my way. I entered a hallway lined with rooms on either side. Golden pinstriping lined the white-paneled walls. I didn’t recognize this area. Had I taken a wrong turn?
Raised voices came from the room ahead. I stopped at the sound of the queen’s voice. The deep male voice must’ve been the prince. Morven. Ugh. A real winner, that one.
The 7th Lie Page 6