“Because I fucking said so.”
“Fine.” I say. “Whatever.”
The glint in his eyes tell me he knows for certain it’s not fine.
I throw my hands up and walk toward the door—the wall—whatever the hell it is that needs me to get away from him, because this time I’m not letting him walk out on me. I’m walking out on him.
I’m still fuming when a kid walks up to me and tentatively hands me a note.
I swear to Odin, I miss cell phones.
Report to kitchen
I groan and spin on my heel, heading down to the kitchen. Karlee, the Alante kitchen manager, stands at a long table arranging a tray of fruit, cheese, and meats.
“Go change,” she says, barely looking at me. “The uniform is behind the door.”
I walk over to the wall that holds the aprons and open the storage room door. A different kind of uniform hangs there. I pull it down and see that it’s a black vest and small black shorts.
“Uh, I’m supposed to wear this? Out there?”
“No.” Karlee frowns. “You’re delivering this snack upstairs. To the Headmaster.”
“The Headmaster?”
Fuck.
“Great, my humiliation continues,” I mutter, then wince. “I’m not saying your job is humiliating, he’s just doing this to humiliate me. I’m sorry.”
“We all have our roles in life, Valkyrie. Yours is not to serve the people in this Academy.”
I give her a tight smile. “It seems, right now, it is.”
I struggle into the shorts, they’re skintight and barely cover my ass. The top is no better, the button holes gaping at my chest and a large amount of cleavage is visible. Oh, and don’t forget the heels. Spiked and uncomfortable. At least I have a weapon if I need one.
“Anything specific I need to know?” I ask, tugging at my shorts.
She pushes the extravagant platter of food into my hands along with a bottle of wine.
“He likes his food in his chambers—the room behind his office.” She grabs a small metal container and tucks it in the small pocket of the vest. “Oh, and burn incense. He has some kind of thing about it.”
I head toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To take this?” I reply, confused.
Karlee shakes her head. “There’s a private staircase for the Headmaster’s quarters.”
She directs me to a small door in the back of the kitchen, past the ice box and main pantry. She opens the door for me. “Knock when you get to the top.”
I climb the narrow steps, my feet aching before I reach the second floor. The headmaster’s rooms are higher up, although not as high as Victorine’s creepy tower nest. I finally get there, thighs and calves wobbling from the shoes and number of stairs. I knock on the wooden door.
“Come in.”
I fumble with the doorknob, trying not to drop the food or wine. Knowing him, I’d have to lick it up or something equally disturbing. The door finally unlatches, swinging open, revealing an opulent bedroom. I fight a look of revulsion when I see Roland lying on the bed. He’s wearing a rich, red, velvet robe and cotton pants hanging low on his hips. He’s as handsome as the other Immortals, their bodies and faces as much weapons as their fists.
“Ah,” he says, eyes sweeping over me, “you brought my snack.”