The Interview

Chapter Twenty-Six

Their suite was situated on the top floor, overseeing the blue lake and a generous part of the pine forest surrounding it. It offered a large salon, which was shared, as well as two individual bed- and bathrooms with private access to the hallway and—even more importantly—locks. Still, Glinda stood there for a moment, teeth assaulting the soft insides of her cheek as she stared at the open door to her room, agonising over the lacking distance between her and Chuffrey's quarters.

"Is it all to your liking?" Chuffrey's baritone suddenly hummed right behind her. She jumped a little when she felt his big hands on her shoulders.

A nod was her first reply when words could not immediately be summoned.

"It's lovely," she said rigidly, turning around to flash him a fleeting smile.

Chuffrey laughed.

"You hate it."

"I do not," she protested. "It's just... rather intimate."

Shaking his head in apparent amusement, he rummaged through his wallet for a note for the bellhop before dismissing him. Next, he handed Glinda a swipe card and a little silver key.

"Barricade yourself if you wish. I'll try not to take it personally."

They changed quickly and returned to the lobby, joining an eager crowd of fellow guests. Glinda couldn't help but notice the dull homogeny of the group, entirely comprised of expensively dressed Gillikinese couples and a few single gentlemen, skin either perfectly pale or fashionably sun kissed to just the right degree. She couldn't change being who she was and how she was born to look, but blending in so perfectly irked her, and she suddenly longed for her more colourful friends' company. The hotel shuttle arrived too soon for her to further explore her feelings on the matter, promptly whisking them away for an evening trip to the nearby vineyard.

It began with a tour of the estate—first on foot, then on rustic yet deceptively comfortable horse-drawn wagons. The scenery was beautiful; the light of the setting sun twinkled between red vine leaves, bathing everything in a luscious, golden glow. Glinda certainly would have regretted moving on to the winery and the catacombs if the spectacle had not concluded on its own by the time the horses' hoof claps echoed through the historic courtyard.

The thirsty tourists disembarked hastily, with little regard for anything else, drawn only by the promise of noble, rich wines. Glinda, on the other hand, was in no such rush, deriving much more pleasure from feasting her eyes on the exquisite architecture. Intent on pleasing her, Chuffrey patiently stayed by her side and only beckoned her to take his arm and follow along when their very last cohort had already vanished indoors.

"Beautiful evening," he commented, pretending to take interest in the old sepia photos on the walls as he patted her dainty hand that rested on his arm. "Are you enjoying yourself, baby?"

She inwardly bristled at the moniker but offered him a brief smile, hoping it would suffice as an answer.

They were shown to the cellar, carved directly into the rock below the estate. Descending further and further down the uneven and footworn stairs, cool air enveloped them, eventually sending an involuntary shudder down Glinda's spine. Ever the attentive cavalier, Chuffrey shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Despite the warmth it provided, it was an unwelcome offering, reeking of his cologne and his possessiveness. It was all she could do not to tear it away from her body as if it were on fire. Oblivious to her hidden contempt, he smiled and tugged it a little tighter around her for maximum benefit while she ground her teeth in an effort to bear it.