No, twenty.
They filtered in and out of the dining area with various courses and bottles of wine. When Layla asked for water, no one took notice.
But my lips slightly lifted on the sides, pleased by her choice.
She must have sensed my approval because she gave me a faint smile when she sipped her crystal glass filled with perfectly see-through water and ice. She wouldn’t indulge, either. Even though she seemed fascinated by the conversation, she intended to remain aware of her surroundings.
No, it was more than fascination.
She had a sense of bewilderment about her as if all of this was so outlandish it was difficult to believe.
It was a sentiment I echoed. Although, it was more like a nightmare for me.
At the Reformatory, I had been King. Layla had been under my protection and I’d made sure that she’d not only escaped, but learned to accept who and what she was.
Now, everything had changed. Layla was a goddess and Ketos was her only true equal, if everything her parents had told us was to be believed.
And at the same time, this could easily be a dream. We were supposedly safe, could count on luxurious meals multiple times a day, and we had our own palace wing. It was what anyone in our situation would have hoped for.
Except for Ketos.
The sensation of wrongness probably stemmed from how different this all was. We’d gone from a literal dungeon to riches in the span of days.
Our entire world had been turned upside down as well.
Maybe I’m overreacting, I thought, eyeing my cousin again. He and his mates were hopelessly lost to their food, their expressions content.
However, Auric remained alert. More likely because Netiri and Iston were still watching him. They never joined the servants as the courses were delivered. They remained at their posts, their jobs as guards clear.
I didn’t like it.
Because it felt like they were here to protect the inhabitants.Against us.
We were the outsiders.
That has to be what feels so off—we’re not meant to be here.
But Layla was. She was their daughter.
While Auric and I weren’t the mates her parents had expected to arrive with her.
Or maybe it’s the striking similarity to the Nora Court that’s irking me,I thought, narrowing my gaze as another Noir entered the room. He wasn’t part of the dinner staff, but perhaps one of the administration staff since he held a phone and a flat electronic device.
The Nora Courts were run by a variety of classes. The High Court Class. The Servant Class. The Working Class. The Warrior Class, among others.
As it seemed things were exactly the same here.
Interesting.
Hadn’t Vasilios stated that the Noir and Nora had lived in harmony together? That while the Nora protected and worked for the Noir, they were treated with respect?
I supposed they weren’t necessarily being disrespectful now, but they certainly acted superior to the rest of the room.
Even Iston and Netiri were treated as servants.
Servant guards.
“Apologies for interrupting your dinner, my King,” the newest arrival said by way of greeting. He opened his mouth as if to say more, then glanced at me. “Hesays it’s important and it can’t wait.”
