I storm down the hall, wishing he was wrong.
Grace’s Listof Demands
New clothes: No offense to whoever is loaning me these clothes, but I need a new wardrobe. These outfits are hideous and don’t even fit. And no, don’t just bring me more random hand-me-downs. Let me order some online or go shopping.
Better food: The tomato soup was definitely an upgrade, but it’s not exactly a balanced diet. I need some variety. Let’s add: pasta, Chinese noodles, salad (Caesar or Cobb are my favorites), stir fried veggies, and French fries, if that’s a thing you have here.
On that note, how about something to drink other than water? Surely you guys have Coke or Sprite or even freaking lemonade. I’d kill for a vodka-cran, if I’m being honest. I might even drink milk…I’m THAT desperate.
More entertainment: I looked through the movie options on the laptop last night. Not super impressed. Can you add some more 80s/90s rom-coms to the rotation? I’m not too picky, so any will do. Oh, actually, you should addTen Things I Hate About You. That’s a great one.
Increased freedom: I don’t like being locked up like a dog. You said you won’t treat me like a prisoner, so I want free reign of the manor. I’m going Yellow-Wallpaper insane in here.
Basic respect: You’ve already said you’ll stop being horrible, but I want basic respect on top of that. Stop yelling. Stop attacking. Stop being such a freaking asshole all the time.
Hopefully, this all sounds simple enough. Because it issimple,Sebastian. Treat me well, and we’ll give this another shot. Keep being a jerk, and I’ll go back to my sulking.
“You called, Master?”the human asks. He stands in the doorway to the library, one hand on the latch, the other fidgeting at his side. He’s blissfully transparent, so nervous his pulse is unsteady.
I look up from the table. I have a spread of texts in front of me, and after an hour of searching, I still haven’t foundanything useful. Not even a passing mention of the Pruce line.
“Was it you?” I ask. I arch an eyebrow, watching the way he shifts from one foot to the other. “Did you give Grace paper? A pen?”
The minute twitch of his lip gives me all the answer I need. And still, I remain quiet, waiting for the confirmation to fall from his own lips.
“Yes,” he says. He’s trembling as he leans against the door, hiding behind it as though it’s a shield. “Was I…should I not have?”
I rise from the table, tearing a page from my notebook. As I cross the room, I study the human. He’s small, fragile.
“You do not give Graceanything,”I say. “Not a piece of paper. Not a kind word. Not a lingering glance. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” he says. He hasn’t stopped trembling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know?—”
“Grace is more dangerous than she lets on,” I say. “The moment you let your guard down, she’ll tear you to shreds. Understand?”
