golden liquid, glasses, a box of cigars, and a massive glass paperweight in the shape of the Academy castle.
The walls of the study were lined with shelves of books and stuffed heads of deer and wolves. The deer looked petrified and the wolves looked fierce and Stormy thought how unfair it was to leave the poor deer being forever frightened.
Mastering the Skies, Aerodynamics for Animal Flyers, The Science of Spitfyres, Spitfyre Folklore, Training for Spitfyre Sky-riders, Flying Horses Forever
â the titles of the books sent a thrilling shiver up his spine.
âSo, you replace Ollie?â Araminta said. âI suppose youâre surprised I know a servery worker, arenât you?â
Stormy shook his head, then nodded; she was so confusing.
âThe silly boy made a name for himself . . . You have a good head for heights, have you?â
He wished she wouldnât stare at him so.
âYes, miss.â
âThe other boy did not.â
âDidnât he, miss?â He pretended to know nothing of Ollieâs fate because it seemed safer.
She flicked her hair. âDonât answer back!â She glared at him. âWell, what do you think? Will you make a name for yourself? Answer me!â
âIâm not clever,â Stormy said. âIâve never had the chance. But if I had the chance, if I could read all these books, or ââ
She shook her pretty head. âNo chance of that, kitchen boy!â
The swirly patterns on the green and gold carpet swirled some more. âNo, miss.â
âIâm the Directorâs daughter,â she said. âI give orders here. I can do whatever I like.â She watched him closely, waiting for him to answer.
âYes, miss.â
The Directorâs daughter? Oh, my!
âAnd you must always do as I say,â she added.
âYes, miss.â Stormy nodded. Unable to return her stare he looked round at the fascinating things in the room, coming to a stop at a painting of a young man. âIs that the Director there?â he blurted, pointing at the picture.
âWhich one, you totally rude boy?â
There were
two
almost identical paintings of two young men on the walls facing each other. They both wore their hair long, curling close round their faces.
âEither.â
âYou are very nosey for a kitchen boy,â she said. âOne is my father and one is his brother. I never met my uncle. Heâs dead.â
âOh, Iâm sorry.â
âDonât be. It happened ages and ages ago and he left all his money to Daddy so actually it was pretty lucky. If you have to share something you end up with less of it, which isnât good. Donât you agree?â
Stormy had always shared everything â his bunk, his clothes, and his food. But still he nodded.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Maud came in. âDid you ring? Tsk tsk,â she added, eyeing the table. âI am sorry.â She began dusting the table vigorously. âIâm so sorry, didnât I polish this mahogany to your liking, miss? I could ââ
âNo. I did not ring! Maud, youâve got bells in your skull instead of brains. How dare you interrupt us? Go away.â
âYes, miss.â Maud gave Stormy a quick cheeky grin, so fleeting he wasnât sure it had been there at all, and backed out. âI canât imagine what I was thinking,â she muttered with a smile as she closed the door.
âMaud has been with us since she was a baby. An orphan, like you,â Araminta said. âDaddy treats her as part of the family; he is a very kind and generous man. My mother died, you know. Just three years and eight months ago. I think Iâm forgetting her a little already. Daddy has forgotten her completely. Ah well . . .â
Stormy hardly heard her. What if Araminta and the Director had adopted
him
when he was a baby, instead of Otto and Mrs Cathcart taking him in at the
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