Page 64 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

She’s already turning away. The handmaidens follow immediately, practically fleeing.

I should let them go. This is awkward for everyone involved. But something makes me speak.

“My lady.”

She stops. Turns back slowly, gathering visible courage. Her chin lifts slightly, shoulders straightening despite the fear still bright in her eyes.

“Yes?”

“I apologize for frightening you.” The words feel clumsy. “It wasn’t my intention.”

Her expression shifts, surprise replacing some of the fear. She studies me for a long moment, reassessing.

“Are you... are you hungry?” The question comes out hesitant. “The food will only go to waste otherwise. It seems a shame, and I had the cook prepare so much...”

I start to decline. This isn’t my place. I’m hired help for her son.

But Lady Clayborne is already gesturing to the handmaidens. “Please. I insist. It would ease my conscience to know someone enjoyed it.”

The handmaidens exchange uncertain glances but move when their mistress directs them. They slip past me into Garrett’s room and begin setting up the meal on the small table by the window. Dishes appear from beneath the covers. Roasted lamb, golden and glistening. Glazed root vegetables. Fresh bread still steaming. A small pot of what smells like lavender honey.

It’s a feast.

Lady Clayborne lingers in the doorway while her handmaidens work. She watches them arrange the plates then turns her attention back to me.

“Garrett mentioned you’ve been with him for several weeks now,” she says carefully. “Protecting him.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“You must know him quite well by now.” There’s something in her voice. Not quite a question, but close.

I don’t know how to answer that. Do I know Garrett?

I know he stops to help strangers without being asked. I know children run to him in the streets because he listens to them and makes them laugh. I know his body runs cold at night and he sleeps better when someone holds him. But I don’t know why he won’t look at me anymore.

“He’s...” I pause, choosing words carefully. “Complicated.”

Lady Clayborne smiles at that. A real smile, warm despite her lingering nervousness. “That’s putting it kindly. He’s been like that since he was a boy.”

She moves into the room properly now, confidence growing. The handmaidens finish their work and retreat to the doorway, hovering like anxious birds.

“When he was young he was so carefree,” Lady Clayborne continues. “Always laughing, always getting into mischief with his brother. They would sneak into the kitchens at midnight to steal honeycakes. The cook would scold them terribly, but Garrett would just smile and promise never to do it again.”

Despite myself, I almost smile at the image. Garrett as a child, sticky-fingered and unrepentant.

“He is the second son, you understand,” she says quietly. “There was no weight on his shoulders back then. His brother would inherit everything. Garrett was free to just... be.”

Something shadows her face. She draws a breath, steadying herself before continuing.

“Then his brother died.” Lady Clayborne’s voice grows solemn. “After that, everything changed. Garrett became the sole heir. All those expectations, all that responsibility, it fell on him overnight.”

She looks at me then, searching for something.

“I’m very proud of him,” she says. “Of the person he’s become. But sometimes I wonder if there’s a side to him even I don’t know. A part he keeps hidden.”

The words settle heavy in the air between us. I stay silent, unsure what I could say to her.

Lady Clayborne’s expression shifts. Something softer enters her eyes.