Special Delivery Winter - Aria Grace Page 0,7
Adam asked from the front seat, his brown eyes fixed on mine in the rearview mirror.
“That would be nice,” I said, grateful for something to break up what would otherwise be an awkward, quiet drive to the manor. Adam smiled and switched on the radio, and the warm, soothing tones of a male singing Winter Wonderland filled the cabin.
As we wove through the narrow, snow-laden and moodily lit streets of Bryton, the capitol of Gilmouth, it was difficult not to feel like I really was living in a winter wonderland — especially when Kenway Manor’s towering, snow-tipped peaks popped over the horizon as we approached the city center.
We made it to the gates faster than I thought we would, no doubt thanks to Adam’s smooth driving. How long had he worked for the king? I wanted to ask but didn’t get the chance. Adam turned off the radio and cracked the window as we approached the security guards at the gate.
“Good evening. I’ve fetched Mr. Richmond,” Adam said to the guard, who leaned down to look me over through the gap between the window and roof.
“Very good,” the guard said and motioned to another stationed in a small box to let us pass. Moments later, the massive iron gates emblazoned with a giant golden “K” swung slowly open, and we rolled down the gravel toward the manor. I’d felt nervous all day, but a fresh wave of anxiety swept over me as we passed a stunning winter scene and I realized that in mere moments I’d be meeting King Kenway himself.
At least the view offered a minor distraction. Trees and shrubs dotted the sprawling grounds, each ablaze with so many Christmas lights that I couldn’t fathom how long it must’ve taken for the staff to decorate them all. The gently falling snow in the dark sky caught the light and glinted, giving the night a dreamy feel, and I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
We drove over a small bridge that crossed the moat surrounding the manor and around a towering, fully decorated Christmas tree in the courtyard. Adam came to a smooth stop just outside the mansion’s floor-to-ceiling glass double doors and smiled at me in the rearview.
“Welcome to Kenway Manor, Mr. Richmond. Please enjoy your visit,” he said, and I never had time to thank him because my door opened, and a gloved hand extended to help me out of the vehicle. Against my better judgment, I took it and stepped out of the cozy car’s cabin into the frosty night air.
“Good evening, Mr. Richmond,” a beaming, short woman with dark hair greeted me. “I’m Lucy. Please follow me. I’ll show you to the reception room.” She turned and walked up the few steps to the doors, and Adam’s car rolled away.
I took a healthy gulp of the cold air to center myself and followed Lucy. She opened the door for me and moved aside to allow me to enter first. Once inside, she closed the door behind us, and I froze.
We’d entered a vast, round room with sparkling marble floors and immaculately decorated ceilings. Expensive vases and family artifacts lined the room on podiums, interspersed among small pine trees and wreaths for the holiday. Behind another impossibly large and fully decorated Christmas tree, a staggering, red carpet-covered staircase climbed up in front of us, presumably leading to the various personal rooms for the royal family and staff. I’d seen plenty of pictures of the manor’s foyer, but none of them did the reality of it any justice.
“May I take your coat, Mr. Richmond?” Lucy asked, pulling me out of my amazement.
“Yes, please. Thank you,” I said as I took it off and handed it to her, but she didn’t put it away. Instead, she folded it neatly and draped it over one of her arms. Maybe she’d hang it in a closet somewhere after she took me where I needed to be? I didn’t object; I could never have found my way through the labyrinthine manor on my own.
“You’re just in time. The other guests have all recently arrived. This way, please,” she said and headed down an impressive, high-ceilinged hallway to the left. Plush beige carpet silenced the clicking of her high heels and felt like clouds beneath my feet as I followed her.
We walked for what felt like forever, past dozens of oil paintings of departed kings and ancient Gilmouthan conquests, until Lucy halted outside an enormous set of white wooden