Chapter 14Week 6, Saturday
Lachlan
What with several long days in a row (Taran: more fittings; me: banging out stock for the last weekend of Frolicke, plus catching up with work for De Witt), we didn’t have another proper talk till Thursday night. It didn’t start the way I’d half-expected, which would’ve been Taran saying he thought he’d better find a new place in the Valley.
It started the complete opposite way. We were sat at my table, about to address our dinner of grilled-chicken salad and pinot noir. Taran took what might’ve been a fortifying sip of wine, set down his glass, and said, “I have an interview tomorrow.” I think I opened my mouth to speak; before I could get anything out, he added, “At the academy in Brentwood.”
I blinked. Took a second. Considered his expression, whic
