“Well, isn’t this cozy?” I look to Baze seated opposite me and beside an empty chair. He’s got an elbow perched on the table, head propped by two fingers prodding his temple, eyes wide like a moon owl. “What?” I ask, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. A dusting of dried shit sprinkles my lap, and I brush it to the floor while I wait for him to answer.
“What?” Both brows reach for his slicked-back hairline. “Really?”
I shrug, relaxing into my seat, well aware that we’re one person short for this little celebration dinner—not that I intend to let that dampen my mood. I, myself, was half an hour late. The fact that she’s even tardier reflects poorly on her character, and she should absolutely saddle a horse, get the hell out of this castle, and never return.
I look sidelong at Rhordyn, the picture of elegant prestige in his inky garb that’s pieced together with fine, silver thread. The jacket is left open to his sternum, revealing a black button-down beneath. He’s reclined in his chair, elbow notched on the armrest, thumb painting paths across his bottom lip.
“Wow. You’re both so well dressed. If I had known this was a tailored affair, I might have worn shoes.”
Unlikely.
Baze clears his throat before the sound of delicate footfalls echoes on the stone.
I glance up to see Zali looking fresh as a blushing rose, dressed in a neck to floor gown that hugs her athletic figure. Its rusty color compliments her skin tone and the spirals of hair falling over a regal shoulder, almost reaching the dip of her tapered waist.
She’s the epitome of exotic wrapped in a perfect, well-presented package, and it occurs to me the manure was quite symbolic. Anyone would look like crap sitting next to that woman.
I look to Rhordyn, still watching me—still running his thumb across that bottom lip. Something about his unwavering stare has me wiggling in my seat, as if the action alone could shake him off.
“Where’s that smell coming from?” Zali asks, drawing closer, and I let Rhordyn bear witness to the smile I whip up as I lift my hand and wave.
“Me.” I turn my attention to Zali, now standing near the empty seat beside Baze, her honey eyes taking in my soiled cheek, the straw hanging from my hair, the muck caked to my clothes. “I’ve been bagging manure for my plants.”
I expect to see her face twist, or perhaps even a gag; instead, she’s looking at me with something akin to reverence.
She peeks at Rhordyn, smiling a little.
My chest tightens.
I’m outside the circle of some personal joke they’ll probably laugh about later when they’re tangled between the sheets. The thought sours the remaining scraps of my appetite.
Fingers strum against the table—an impatient tune that has my hackles rising a little more with each flourished beat. It takes me far too long to realize the tempo matches the frantic drum of my heart.
Suddenly—almost violently—it stops.
“Orlaith.”
“Yes?” I answer, batting my lashes like I’ve seen the maids do when they pass him in the halls.
“I see you’ve brought half the stable to the dinner table. Would you like time to freshen up? I wouldn’t want the smell dampening your appetite.”
“I’m fine. And I’m sure the High Mistress doesn’t mind,” I say, looking at Zali seated close enough to kick under the table. “Do you,Mother?”
She chokes on a mouthful of wine, and I watch it dribble down her chin like a line of blood.
Leaning forward as far as I can, I snatch the goblet out of her hand and slog the entire contents in one large gulp. It burns a trail all the way to my stomach, and I wince, hating the taste. But that doesn’t stop me from hailing the servant for a refill.
Baze moves to stand, but Rhordyn stops him with a slight bat of his hand, chin resting on his bunched fist like he’s enjoying the show.
Well. Lucky for him, that was barely the first act.
“You know, I once read that anxiety can stem from a lack of maternal support. Considering I was raised by these two,” I rasp, waving my glass between Baze and Rhordyn like a crystal war flag, “it’s no wonder I’ve got issues.”
The servant fills my glass from a silver chalice, and I look deep into the pit of Zali’s perfect, almond-shaped eyes ... wishing I could gouge them right out of her head. “But now I’ve gotyou.”
It’s Baze’s turn to choke on his drink.
“Yes,” Zali replies, an amused smile playing on her lips. “Now you have me.” Reaching for a goblet of water and leaning close, she uses her other hand like a shield to block Rhordyn as she waggles perfectly manicured brows. “And for what it’s worth, I agree. I think you deserve a medal for putting up with them for so long.”
