Chapter 70: Faye - Circling Tigers

Building E3 is warm tonight. The storm has passed, bringing milder weather in its wake. The lake has settled although the gardens still show signs of storm damage. Most of the mistresses will have gathered in the lounge in the Recreation building E5 in the way they always do after a day confined indoors. Everyone becomes restless and hungry for conversation and entertainment. By seven o’clock the same restlessness strikes me and I join the others in E5.

I find a seat near the window, enabling me to watch the moonrise over the water. I feel a sudden shift in atmosphere within the room. A ripple of attention. A subtle straightening of posture. I recognise a familiar presence. Bernice has arrived.

She steps into the lounge with her usual effortless confidence. Her trademark long dark hair in a sleek ponytail, her olive?toned skin glowing in the lamplight, her posture relaxed but unmistakably dominant. She greets a few of the others with warm smiles, touches on shoulders, a laugh here, a nod there. She’s always been good at pulling people into her orbit without seeming to try.

I sip my drink and wait. Sure enough, she spots me within seconds. Of course she does.

“Faye,” she says, approaching with a smile that is both friendly and sharp. “You’re back.”

“And you’re early,” I reply. “Nicole said she wasn’t expecting you until next week.”

She shrugs lightly. “Plans changed. I would have been here yesterday but the storm delayed my travel plans. But as you can see, I made it.”

We exchange the customary cheek?kiss, socially polite, practised, and on the surface, seemingly meaningless. Underneath, it’s a test. It always is.

“How was your trip across the lake?” I ask, silently hoping that she was seasick.

“Choppy,” she says. “But pleasant enough. Melissa was very helpful.”

My fingers tighten around my glass. Ah. So that’s how Bernice wants to play this game.

I keep my tone light. “Melissa is helpful by nature.”

“She’s more than that,” Bernice says, studying me. “She’s attentive. Quick. And she remembers people.”

I smile. “Do you hire her often?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” she replies smoothly. “But I intend to change that this time.”

A spark of heat flickers in my chest. It isn’t anger or jealousy, but something sharper. Bernice has subtly offered me a challenge.

I lean back in my chair. “Melissa is in high demand these days.”

“So I’ve heard.” Bernice’s eyes glint. “By you, among others.”

I laugh softly. “I hire many White cats.”

“Call them slaves, Faye. I’m not buying into this woke naming convention. I’m surprised you’ve bought into it. Anyway, you notice Melissa more than other slaves,” she says.

I take a slow sip of my drink. “She’s interesting.”

Bernice’s smile widens. “Yes. She is. On that issue we are in agreement.”

There’s something in her tone. A quiet claim to seniority, or perhaps a subtle warning. A reminder that she has influence. That she has privileges I don’t know about. Not that I’d ever admit that.

“And I have been asking around, gauging how others feel about the caste name changes. There’s a lot of unhappiness about it among the mistresses, but I’m not sure there’s enough support to challenge management on the issue,” I say.

A White cat server approaches with a tray. Bernice takes a glass off the tray. The server curtsies slightly and moves on. Bernice watches her go, then turns back to me.

“You know,” she says lightly, “I’ve always admired your taste.”

“In what?”

“In people.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I’m curious,” she says, lowering her voice just enough that only I can hear. “What is it about Melissa that caught your attention?”