She bobbed a mini-curtsy, strode in two feet, gave me a mini-curtsy too, and then she moved to the table, making light work of depositing her tray and getting out of there.
Before she left, however, Apollo ordered, “Water so Lady Ulfr can refresh.”
The girl nodded briefly and took off.
Hmm.
The “Lady Ulfr” bit was something new (the guys had referred to me to staff as “madam”). I didn’t know how to feel about it but decided to ignore it. I ignored it mostly because what I did know how I felt about it was that it irked me at the same time I had to admit (against my will) it was kind of cool.
I also ignored the bobbing a curtsy, something that had happened frequently along my journey from Fleuridia to Lunwyn that I had not yet gotten used to.
Instead I noted, as I’d noted repeatedly along my journey, staff at inns didn’t get tips.
Staff at hotels and lodges did.
I found this slightly irritating since all of them—but by the looks of them especially the ones who worked at inns—could use the money.
Apollo moved to the wine and had it uncorked and glasses filled by the time the boy got the fire roaring and was backing away from it.
“Bring fuel,” Apollo commanded and the boy’s eyes lifted to him. “Enough for the evening. We’ve a long journey and need to be rested on the morrow. We don’t need to constantly be calling for wood.”
The boy gave a nod, a truncated bow and took off, closing the door behind him.
Apollo handed me a wineglass and I took it, asking, “Do you not know the word please?”
He held my gaze over the rim of his wineglass as he took a sip.
When he was done and had dropped his hand, he answered, “I do.”
“Can I ask why you don’t use it?” I pushed.
His body moved in a way that it was hardly moving at all but I could tell he was settling in, which I thought was a little weird, and it did this as he asked, “And what have I done to vex you, Ilsa?”
I took a sip of my own wine that was so far from the quality of Fleuridian wine it was not funny and thus I had to fight against making a face and replied, “I’m not vexed.”
“You’ve spoken one word to me all day, that being first thing this morning. Until we arrived at the inn. Then we make our room and you also make it clear nothing I do pleases you. Can you explain why?”
I threw an arm out and told him, “They’re servants but they’re people. You order them around like they’re slaves and beneath your notice.”
“They have many duties to see to from dawn until dusk, likely earlier and later, I would imagine. They don’t have time for courtesy and conversation.”
“Everyone has time for courtesy,” I returned and added, “Achilles said please.” Thinking on it, I included, “So did Remi. As did Derrik, after, of course, I mentioned it to him.”
This last was true. Way back in Fleuridia, I’d had to give Derrik a talking to.
That got another eye flash and the annoyed response of, “Well, I’m not Achilles, Remi or Derrik.”
“I’m well aware of that,” I replied.
“And none of them are Heads of Houses,” he noted.
“So the Head of a House has carte blanche to be discourteous and bossy?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed and he asked back, “Am I to be treated to your surly disposition the entirety of our journey?”
“Probably,” I retorted.
“When you’re not pretending I don’t exist, of course,” he continued.