“Okay, well, um, I don’t like celery,” I told her.
“Noted,” she clipped and then glared at me as she waited for more.
“And, um, my husband doesn’t like that gardenia scent.”
Her brows shot to her hairline. “That is, as you know, your grace, your specifically requested scent. You did, as you know, your grace, make rather a fuss about it last time.”
Uh-oh.
“It’s lovely. I mean, I think it’s beautiful. Utterly perfect,” I lied. “But Tor doesn’t like it so, perhaps –”
“Noted,” she bit off curtly.
Oh boy. She wasn’t melting at all.
“Okay, well,” I kept trying. “I was wondering, if Tor can’t do it, could someone take me for a tour of –”
“The kitchens,” she finished for me. “Of course, it’ll be arranged immediately.”
“No, I meant the castle,” I explained and her head cocked sharply to the side.
“You had no interest the last time.”
Of course I didn’t.
“Well, I wasn’t, uh… myself the last time.”
She nodded once. “Noted.”
I bit my lip. Then I asked, “Where is Tor?”
“He has, as you know, your grace,” she stated tersely, “been away for some time. He has things to do and those things, I hope you don’t mind if I be so bold as to inform you, don’t all involve dancing attendance on you.”
Lordy, but she hated Cora.
“Right,” I whispered.
“So he’s doing them,” she concluded.
“Of course,” I replied.
“Is there more?” she snapped.
“I don’t think so,” I answered.
“Last time, there was more.”
I bet there was.
“Well, if so, I’ll be certain to speak to only you about it,” I promised.
“Fine,” she clipped. “And how long will you be gracing us with your presence this time? Will you be leaving this eve?” she asked hopefully.
“Uh… no.”
Her expression finally changed but only to obvious disappointment.
Yeesh.