Page 4 of Honeythorn
“Good night, then,” Milan said, thoroughly defeated by the day.
As he walked out, he heard a quiet, “Good night.”
But it might just as well have been the wind.
CHAPTER TWO
Consciousness crawled forwards slowly. Milan blinked awake and was for a moment confused as to where he was, everything around him foreign. It was with an abrupt heaviness that he remembered the previous day. He closed his eyes again as if in pain.
Milan had expected to have to become accustomed to his new life, but not like this. The sudden longing for the familiar, for his family and friends, for somewhere he belonged, pierced through him. It was a pull to a place he could no longer go to.
Knowing that remaining in bed would only cause his thoughts to darken further, Milan dragged himself to the basin of water. Thankfully, the fire in his room was still alive, and he was able to wash without much trembling in the cold. Once he was dressed and ready to face the day, he pulled the string that Melissa had told him would call her. It only took a minute for a knock to sound at the door, and Milan opened it with a smile.
“My Lord,” Melissa stuttered, seeming taken aback to see him up and dressed. Milan waved her concern away.
“Not quite a lord yet,” he teased. “Help me find breakfast?”
“Oh—yes, of course.”
Milan followed Melissa once again to the dining room, making sure to remember where it was this time. He was not terribly surprised to see that Raphael was not there to greet him and distracted himself with the covered dishes on the table.
“This all looks wonderful,” he complimented as he lifted the lids. Pastries, sausages, eggs. It really did look delicious.
“Would you like some tea?” Melissa offered.
“Yes, please. Thank you, Melissa.”
With another bow, she was gone.
Milan explored the curious devices that were keeping some of the food warm, a metal ring placed under the plates, before sitting down and serving himself. Breakfast was even better than he was expecting, the sausages rich, the pastries buttery. Despite the lack of spices common in his own land, Northerners did not seem to skimp on salt and cream.
Milan was not protesting.
One of the staff, who introduced himself as Larry when Milan asked, stood silently at one corner of the room as Milan ate. It was a little eerie, but useful as Milan finished the meal.
“Do you know the whereabouts of Lord Raphael?” Milan asked him as he approached to take the plates away.
“He has gone for the day.”
Milan paused for a moment. “Gone? Gone where?”
“I’m not sure.…He often leaves for work during the day.”
“Right. Of course he does.”
Larry looked at him uncertainly, and Milan forced himself to smile.
“Do you know when he’ll return?”
“Um…”
Milan shook his head. “Never mind.”
Milan sat there for a while longer. He should have expected this. Raphael was obviously a busy man, and Milan was clearly not a priority.
Determined not to waste away in his room like a prisoner, Milan used his solitude as an opportunity to explore.
The day was clear but cold, and Milan decided he would look through the manor another time. Instead, he went up to his room to don more layers, including his furs, before heading down. He started by going to the back of the manor, where Larry had told him the kitchen and staff rooms resided. The visit seemed to do more harm than good, however, as the bustling of staff stopped suddenly at his presence, startled.
