Page 58 of All Saints: Pledge

I repeat her name, which sounds like “Ee-fa,” in my head to myself. “Edmund and Aoife.”

She smiles, then sets about unzipping my luggage, taking my silence as permission.

“You don’t have to—” a knock interrupts me.

Aoife doesn’t let this distract her. She’s a woman on a mission, rather like a modern version of a lady’s maid? It’s borderline questionable in my mind, having never wanted to have a servant, but I assume Aoife is being paid for her job.

I cross to the door and open it. I expect Edmund and instead come face to face with a chest I know well.

Heat flushes my cheeks as my vision goes from the casually buttoned vest and halfway-untied tie up past a crisply turned collar of a white dress shirt and, finally, to meet Kendall’s gaze. As always, I feel a bit off balance when I see him. It doesn’t help that he’s always popping in and out of my life, appearing at the most unexpected of moments.

I step back instinctively, hand at my throat.

“I’ve come to deliver this,” Kendall says, perusing my form first and then the room behind me. His eyes linger on the enormous stone fireplace in one corner, the large green velvet chair, and then on the large four-poster bed. Over his proffered arm lays a black garment bag.

“Oh, um, I brought my own clothes. They sent a packing list,” I say, viscerally remembering the cocktail dress fiasco.

“Everyone receives these,” Kendall says. I can’t get a read on him. He seems nettled. But not by me. By my lodgings. Or maybeAoife? As always, his energy is chaotic, the energy of someone deeply conflicted.

“Is there something…wrong?” I ask, turning to survey the room.

“This room is small,” he says, snappishly.

I turn to goggle at him. This isn’t palatial, but it’s certainly comfortable. I look to Aoife for help, the standard size of manor bedrooms being entirely out of my wheelhouse.

Her glance darts between Kendall and me. “Is there something wrong with this room choice, sir?”

“No. It’s fine.” Kendall raises a hand and pinches the bridge of his nose. It almost looks like he’s giving himself a pep talk. When he drops his hand, his face is carefully blank. “Everything is fine. I am here to deliver your dress for the event tomorrow night. Please leave it hanging in the closet so that it doesn’t wrinkle. We’ll be delivering your accessory tomorrow night just before the event.”

He doesn’t meet my eyes, simply holds out the garment bag. It’s shockingly light. He pivots on his heel and marches toward a rolling cart with other garment bags sitting at the end of the hall.

I watch for a moment, as he grabs another bag and approaches Clara’s door before I close my own. Aoife is there in a blink, taking the garment bag from me. She glances at the door for a long moment, then pastes a smile on her face, ever the consummate professional.

“This isn’t your first rodeo.”

She gives me a startled look. “…rodeo?”

“Ah. Right. Sorry. This isn’t your first time dealing with….” I wave my hand to encompass Kendall.

She snorts in universal woman language, then she schools her face again. “I get the pleasure of working with all sorts in my job.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I bet. Are there guests here often?”

She chats about her job as she puts away my luggage, and I’m horrified to find that I love this. I lay across the bed, watching all of my carefully crafted outfits go into the neat wooden wardrobe. The kind of wardrobe I once would have wondered about leading to Narnia, but now hope doesn’t lead to some sort of secret dungeon. I remind myself to check the back of the wardrobe once she’s gone.

“Will you be wanting a shower, or can I get you anything else? Tea service?We have a golf cart I can call if you’d like to visit the estate. I think you have time before dinner.”

Feelingverymuch like I’ve gone back in time to a historical novel I nod. “I’d love a tour. And then, yes, probably a shower.”

I see a folio on my bedside table, and open it up. “I guess it will have to be a quick tour. I didn’t realize we had a meeting tonight before dinner.Anda function afterward. And tomorrow looks quite full too.” Tomorrow night’s eventstartsat ten PM. Why all the late night stuff? Doesn’t anyone like to do secret society business in daylight?

There’s a knock on my door, this one lighter, which turns out to belong to Clara.

“Have you seen the bathroom? The rooms may be small, but that thing ispalatial. I’m pretty sure one end of it is a steam shower.”

“Guess that answers your question about indoor plumbing,” I say, giving her a conspiratorial smile.

“I came to see if you wanted to wander down to the library together, or maybe find a place to do yoga. My app says I still have to do it today.”

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