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“Stars, could you be any more ignorant? Shame I don’t care what you think.” I ripped the bread from his hand just as he went to take another bite and tossed it into my mouth, chewing dramatically.
He clutched the edge of the table, his face as red as the king’s cloak.
“What are you trying to prove, Aeron?” Calandra asked. “If it’s that you’re a complete ass, you’re doing a great job.” She took a gulp of wine. “The king invited us to this feast, and you’re acting like an animal. It’s embarrassing.”
The king’s smile grew wider as we bickered, and the prince leaned over the table expectantly. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized their plates were empty—no crumbs or residual food marred the spotless porcelain. I didn’t know what the fae customs were, but back in Wendover, the king and queen were usually the first to eat.
My stomach hollowed—should we have waited for them to make their plate?
“It’s fine, Calandra. He can have it.” I gave him a sarcastic smile before repositioning myself in the suede chair. My fingers brushed through the ends of my hair. “He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
Aeron helped himself to more turkey. “Yeah, says the bitch who’s screwing her guard. Be honest, that’s the only reason you’ve made it this far, isn’t it?”
I gripped the napkin in my lap, my fingernails digging into my palm as I willed my anger back into its reservoir. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, and my neck burned. Who did he think he was making such wild accusations? In front of the king, nonetheless. “Believe it or not, Aeron, but women don’t need to sleep with anyone to be successful.”
“Yeah, no. I’m aware. I was talking about you specifically.” He pointed his knife at me. “What were you moaning about the other night? These walls are thin, sweetheart.” He winked at me and tore into a turkey leg.
I grabbed my fork—tine side down—and went to stab it into the top of his hand when an invisible force wrapped around my wrist, preventing it from making impact. I bucked in response.
“Now that is enough,” King Harkin bellowed. He fingered the air and released my arm. But pins and needles lingered where the magic had held it in place. “I can assure you, Aeron, our realm strictly prohibits relations between fae and humans. Not to mention my guards are the most loyal, rule-abiding in the realm. I have heard enough quarreling. Today is about celebrating your victories. So, please.” He waved a hand at the feast before us.
I poked at the food on my plate, afraid if I looked up, everyone would read the guilt on my face. The king couldn’t find out what had happened between me and Talon. It was a lapse in judgment.
Meaningless.
And it would never happen again.
Regardless of how the taste of his lips made my toes curl.
Shaking my head, I took a sip of wine, puckering at the harsh tang that filled my mouth. Gone was the rich, bold flavor, replaced with a bitter taste, and I forced the liquid down with a gag.
Kelvin arched a brow, but I forced my face into neutrality and finished loading my plate again, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself. It didn’t make sense how I wasn’t bursting from my clothes; I’d never eaten this much in my entire life. I knew if I kept going, I would become sick, yet my body acted of its own accord—my logic blurred—and I took another helping of casserole despite it.
I chewed and chewed, my jaw clicking as I struggled to eat the rubbery texture. Like the wine, it was no longer moist and palatable, but sour and stale. Glancing around the table, everyone still joyously stuffed their faces—a far cry from the disgust brewing inside me.
The more I chewed the dryer my mouth became, and I discreetly spit it into the napkin and set it down, wishing I had water to rinse off my tongue.
Prince Bowen and the king shared a look and leaned back in their chairs, eyeing me with careful assessment.
My throat itched, sweat clung to the back of my neck as the large fireplace continued to burn, and I took a sip of the wine, hoping to wash it down, but the metallic taste made the contents in my stomach slosh. In hopes of easing my discomfort, I rubbed my tongue along the roof of my mouth, piecing together the flavor—notes of iron and salt.
It almost tasted like blood. It tasted like blood.
I flung a hand over my mouth to contain my cough—gag—once. Twice. Trying to clear my throat and rid my palate of the wretched taste, but relief never came.
Calandra, Kelvin, and Aeron were too busy stuffing their faces they didn’t seem to notice, or care, that I was choking. After nearly popping a vein in my forehead, I finally cleared the lump in my throat and spit the slimy ball into my napkin.
I froze.
The hollow sensation in my stomach spread to every limb when I saw what it was.
I whipped my head over to the king, who shook with laughter while the prince wore his signature vile smile.
A maggot.
A fucking maggot!
The room spun as an acidic, putrid stench strangled the air and burned my nostrils. I saw it then: the table, once covered with fresh, delicious dishes, was replaced with week-old leftovers, covered in mold, and crawling with bugs.
