I pushed the covers to one side and padded over to the bathroom, but it was empty there too. There was no lingering warmth from the shower. I felt the towel and it wasn't damp. He didn't even shower, at least not in here.
That was that, then. I no longer felt any urge to go seek him out. Instead, I walked over and settled back in the bed with a flump and allowed myself to settle into thoughts I had been avoiding since he'd told me what my family had done to his.
Once upon a time my revenge plan had been simple. Play along, do what was required to kill and destroy the man who killed my family. Kill him and all the Cretes like he killed the Crawfords.
But now nothing was straightforward anymore. Not that it ever had been truly easy, but at least before, I could pretend there was clarity.
My family had killed his own family and so he acted in a very natural way as it was within our world, to seek out his revenge. I had been puzzled for so long as to why he took my family from me, but now that I understood, how could I possibly even think I needed my revenge?
Makros' question lingered in my mind. Why do you want me dead? Revenge? Justice?
If the roles had been reversed... if one day I had gone home to find my lover and child killed, wouldn't I have done the same?
But I would not have married their murderer's son. Wouldn't have slept with him. Wouldn't have engaged in this sick, twisted game.
Makros disoriented me in ways I hated to acknowledge.
The door creaked open, shattering my thoughts.
I gazed up, expecting him to come in with his typical brooding face, but it was not Makros.
Estele entered, lugging in a tray loaded with food. "Morning, my lady."
I released my breath, the knot in my bones easing a little. "Estele."
She put the tray on the bed, the plates set out with effortless precision. "Makros instructed me to let you know that he'll be out for most of the day. He saw to it you'd be very well taken care of."
I took that information in with not a hint of thanks in my mind. He was always fussing over me, in gestures that felt more like a great possession than protection.
"Sit down," I told her, indicating the chair next to me because the bed was occupied by the morning breakfast. "And congratulations on being promoted as head maid."
Estele's eyes widened. "Thank you. It was... surprising."
Estele finished setting out the breakfast and sat in the vacant chair. I gazed at the spread of food in front of me: fresh bread, figs, soft cheese, and a light omelet which was perfumed with herbs and butter before turning to her.
"Would you like to join me?" I asked, gesturing to the food which was clearly too much for an individual.
Estele gave me a smile, a courteous one that barely touched her eyes. "I've already eaten, señora."
I stood there, waiting for any sign she would reconsider. There was something stiffly awkward about the way she sat, as if she was afraid of intruding on me, lingering too long in my space. I had seen it before, the way the staff here made an effort to avoid intruding on my space. Was it out of respect or fear? But then when I actually considered it, respect was actually very funny. I had yet to earn their respect.
I shrugged, picking up a piece of bread which I broke. "Your loss." I put the bread in the cheese and let it soak for a moment before eating it. The rich, cheesy flavor melted on my tongue, but I barely even tasted it. My mind went instead to the things I had been wanting to ask.
"Estele, how long have you worked for the Cretes?"
A flicker of something inscrutable passed over her face. "A long time," she answered cautiously.
I lifted my brow. "How long?"
She paused, as if weighing her words. "Fourteen years now. I was brought in as a child."
"So you were there when Makros lost his family," I prodded, watching for her reaction.
She stiffened imperceptibly. A fraction, maybe, but I caught it. "Yes."
"How many years ago was that?"
Estele took a deep breath. "Four, no... five years now."
