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Not only are there endless bottles of champagne, but there’s also an elaborate cake that Oliver carries from Braxton’s kitchen to the den where we’ve gathered.
It’s a small kitchen, but the appliances look modern and new. And I can’t help but think how nice it must be to have the freedom to make your own meals. Like Elodie’s supersized room, I assume it’s one of the perks of advancement.
Once everyone’s settled with cake and champagne, I’m told it’s customary for that day’s Trippers to share a story, funny mishap, or bit of intrigue that happened on their journey.
“It’s the true debriefing,” Keane jokes, and I wonder what sort of places and times he might’ve Tripped to.
Jago volunteers to go first, and he tells a story of being propositioned by a drunk nobleman and his wife that has everyone roaring with laughter. Despite his claims that he absolutely, positively did not partake in the thruple, he did manage to rid them of quite a few of their treasures.
Elodie tells a surprisingly tamer tale that involves some light dancing and flirting, but mostly she claims to have used her time at the Yew Ball improving her already expert sleight of hand abilities.
When it’s my turn, I can’t help but waver. There’s so much I’m unwilling to share. My failed secret mission, the terrifying encounter in the garden, being chased all the way to the portal, and the time spent with Killian are at the top of that list.
To my fellow AADs, I finally say, “I was so nervous. My only goal was to lift a few things without getting caught.”
A few people groan with disappointment, but thankfully no one calls me out. I lean against Braxton, relieved to have gotten off easily, when Elodie says, “This is no place for holding back. Everyone here has seen it all, and most of us have done it all.”
To that, everyone hollers and laughs.
“So, come now. You’re talking to a highly sophisticated, extremely savvy, slightly jaded, world-weary bunch. We’re family, and your new brothers and sisters happen to be shockproof, so there’s no harm in telling us about all the time you spent gazing at the stars with a dashing, well-decorated gentleman on your arm. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, after a few spins about the dance floor, didn’t you two retreat to someplace, shall we say, more discreet?”
The room has grown unbearably warm.
Or maybe it’s just me.
Still, I’m overcome by the sickening realization that Elodie only appeared to abandon me when, between bouts of pilfering, she apparently spent most of her time spying on me.
She taps the etched crystal champagne flute against her chin and feigns a look of deep contemplation. “Is he perhaps the same gentleman who gave you that handkerchief you brought back?”
Braxton’s arm tightens around me, but I’m quick to turn away. I can’t bear to look at him. And I certainly can’t bear for him to see me.
Surprisingly, it’s Song who comes to my rescue. “Oh, leave her alone,” she says. “Natasha is one of us now. Besides, we all know you were too busy crawling inside every pair of breeches at that ball to have the slightest clue of what Natasha was up to.”
The room falls silent. Like a tennis match, everyone looks from Elodie to Song.
There’s a moment of decision on Elodie’s face, and it’s anyone’s guess if she’ll choose to return.
She shoots a bright smile at Song, but her gaze is pure frost. “Perhaps you’re right,” she says. “Also, I’m starving. Anyone up for dinner in the Winter Room?”
In a matter of moments, the room clears, leaving me, Braxton, and the lingering discomfort of Elodie’s accusation weighing heavily between us.
