Read Online A Tale of Two Kingdoms by Victoria Danann - Free Book Online Page B

thirty, sir.”
    “I see.” Duff sighed. “I do no’ deserve you, Grieve. But do you no’ have a hobby or any, em, thin’s of interest outside this room?”
    Grieve looked mystified. “What could be of more interest than affairs of state, sir?”
    “Indeed, Grieve. Carry on.”
    “Aye, sir.”
    “Oh.”
    “Sir?”
    “About my schedule? Heavy as you please tomorrow, but clear the pages from then till Monday mornin’.”
    “Sir?” Grieve’s eyes were big as he blinked like an owl.
    “I’m takin’ some personal time, Grieve.”
    “Personal time, sir?”
    “Aye. ‘Tis what Americans call it. You may use me as you wish tomorrow. Dawn to midnight. I will skip meals if necessary.”
    “Oh, sir, I do no’ think ‘twould be…”
    “But! Tomorrow night at midnight, I do no’ serve at the pleasure of the fae again until Monday.”
    “I see, sir. A most unusual idea.”
    “Aye. And that bein’ the case, ‘twill be no need to mention it to anyone.”
    “I understand, sir.”
    “Good night, Grieve.” Duff nodded and continued on toward his personal rooms feeling a little guilty about the worried look on Grieve’s face.
     
    As many of the Thursday and Friday appointments as possible were moved to Wednesday and every second of Duff’s day was booked to the point where the hallway leading to his office was lined with people waiting like Washington D.C. Congressional lobby cues. Now and then it occurred to Duff that Grieve might have been enjoying himself, having taken instructions quite literally.
    When the hall was empty it was just after nine o’clock. Grieve poked his head in.
    “That was the last of them, sir. Your calendar is clear till Monday mornin’ for, em, personal time.”
    Duff looked up. “Good job, Grieve. I do no’ want to see you till then.”
    Grieve looked shocked. “But sir! I have work!”
    “Then take it home. You are no’ to set foot in this place before Monday mornin’. If you attempt to do so, I will have security give you the bum’s rush.”
    “Sir!” Clearly the image of being taken by the seat of the pants was enough to make him feel outraged, which was exactly the reaction Duff was hoping for.
    Duff tapped his watch. “Monday mornin’.”
     
     
    Duff ran down to the kitchens to see what there might be to eat. Grieve may have initially protested the idea of booking appointments right through mealtimes, but had scheduled him with no break for the entire day. The kitchen staff had already cleaned up from dinner, but the coolers were stocked full and it wasn’t much trouble to put together a respectable plate of cold cuts, cheeses, fruits and bread. He sat at a twenty-foot-long stainless steel preparation table and ate alone, amazed at how good food tastes when the first meal of the day is eaten very late in the day.
    While he ate with his hands he began planning the next day, feeling a little giddy about being on his own. That alone was cause for celebration. He went back for a second helping of shortbread and washed it down with pale ale. He looked around the immense, dimly lit kitchen. He had a full tummy and was feeling a little bit tired from a day of too many people wanting too many things, and a little bit cranky about the fact that Grieve had clearly wanted to make sure that it didn’t happen often. But underneath all that was something else. Some sensation that wasn’t there before. It was sort of pleasant and sort of warm. One minute it was butterflies in the stomach. The next minute it might be an inexplicably stimulated groin. Anticipation maybe.
    He gathered up a store of snacks - cheese, shortbread, beer, nuts, and a variety of sweets he probably shouldn’t consume, and headed upstairs to his version of a lockdown retreat.
     
     
    Sitting at his desk in his bedroom with a portaputer, a bagel and lox and maps spread all across his floor and his bed, Duff was enjoying a rare and profound sense of freedom. He had closed and locked the outer office