Part of my expression must have slipped, though, because I felt a not-so-gentle kick under the table from Peytor, who sat across from me.
Turning my head slightly so I could look out of my peripheral, I saw him widen his grey eyes almost comically at me while gently shaking his head. As soon as Lord d’Leocopus put his wine glass back on the table—after an inordinately long drink—Peytor’s head snapped back to his plate, intently focusing on the quail that was slowly becoming a carcass.
This time, I couldn’t repress my disgust, much to Torin’s amusement.
“You don’t like your food?” the lord asked nasally, and I sat perfectly still, devising an answer in my head that wouldn’t offend him, but would also tell him in no uncertain terms that I wasnota fan of the food.
Over the past years free from my slavery in Vespera, I’d stopped holding my tongue and opinions. Unfortunately, much to my chagrin and disappointment, now that we were back in the north and Torin needed Lord d’Leocopus’ help, I had to fall back on some of my previous habits. It felt like putting on an old pair of boots that were caked with blood and dried mud.
I nearly wrinkled my nose at the visual.
“Folami is used to the food in the south, Lord d’Leocopus. Not consuming her food has nothing to do with the taste and everything to do with the size of her stomach,” Torin answered as he dabbed his mouth with the red napkin.
Ever the diplomat.
“Hmm. I see. But you spent time in the north before, yes?” Lord d’Leocopus pushed, and I felt the hairs raise on the back of my neck in alarm.
Where did he hear that and why is he asking now?
For months he’d ignored my presence—why engage me now?
“Yes,” I said bluntly and watched as both Torin’s and Lord d’Leocopus’ mouths thinned into lines.
“I would expect you’ve eaten this before, then,” he prodded, and I clenched my hands beneath the table.
“I—” I started, but Torin interrupted again.
“Yes, but not for many years, Lord d’Leocopus.”
That was a much nicer answer than I would’ve given.
Lord d’Leocopus leaned forward, wrists resting on the table.
“You were a Vessel in Lord d’Refan’s army at one point,” he stated nonchalantly, and I saw Peytor stiffen and Torin’s eyes narrow. I fought to keep my own expression neutral but felt a cloud of anger descending.
“Yes,” I clipped again, and Lord d’Leocopus hummed.
“Interesting thing, that. There was a reward for your capture for quite some time after you killed your Mage,” he said nonchalantly as he took a bite of his quail, and I felt my muscles tense, preparing my body to run and escape. “It’s voided now. I suppose he thought you died. Though I wonder what . . . favors it would bring if I turned you over to him.”
The silence that descended amongst the table was deafening, and I heard my own panicked breaths in my chest.
No, no, no. I can’t go back there. Torin would never let that happen.Peytor would never let that happen.
Lord d’Leocopus, either completely oblivious to the tension around the table or uncaring of it, simply stabbed another piece of quail before chewing loudly.
“What’s your point, Lord?” Torin gritted, his knuckles white as they gripped his fork and knife.
“My point,” Lord d’Leocopus said around his mouth of food before he chewed and swallowed. “Is that yourgeneral”—he spatthe word—“needs to learn to control her temper and not nearly kill sons of my councilors in the training yard.”
He fixed me with an icy stare, and I felt my blood run hot. My whole body nearly vibrated with rage, and I heard the beads in my hair clink together softly as I shook my head at his words.
“I did not nearly kill him. I simply corrected his behavior. We’re training for a war, not trying to fuck our friends in the training yard,” I said with steely determination, a bit of my rage shaking through my voice.
“Be that as it may, embarrassing him and pressing yourspearinto his neck is not how we ‘correct behavior’ in the north,” he stated, and I glowered; his insinuation was more than clear.
As a slave in the Warlord’s army, I knew more than enough about how they corrected behavior in the north, at least the behavior of Force Bonded Vessels. We were raped and beaten, tortured and starved. Little lordlings, though, sons of councilors and friends of the elite? They were given a slight slap on the wrist, if anything at all.
“I expect he will receive an apology and the . . . example won’t be made again. If it is, I’m certain Lord d’Refan would be very interested in what I have here in my manor,” Lord d’Leocopus’ voice rang with finality as he turned back to his plate, effectively dismissing me.
