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“I suspected. I suspected from seeing pictures, yes. But I knew for sure when I went to your house.”
“And if you had been wrong?” he asked.
“I might have kidnapped you anyway. Either way, either persona, is of use to me.”
“You are ruthless, aren’t you?”
His proclamation seemed to cheer her immensely. “I said so. I don’t lie, Maximus. I tried. It would have been easier were I proficient at it. I might have been let out of the dungeon more. I might have been beaten less. And now here I am, free. I hate lies. If I am to be the best Queen, then I cannot lie.”
“Life is a bit grayer than that, Annick. I hate to inform you.”
“Eh...” she said, that nasal sound of dismissal she seemed quite fond of. “I’m tired of gray. I’m tired of the dark.”
> She would not like, then, what he was planning. But she would have no choice.
She’d brought him here.
But he would be the one to decide how it went.
Then the doors to the dining hall flung open and in came trays laden down with food.
For now, he would let her eat.
“And here we are,” he said. “Your dinner is served.”
* * *
Annick stared at the food that had now been laid out on the table, and then she looked back at the man who was responsible for ordering it.
“This is nice.”
She foolishly found that she wanted to cry.
She had read once, in her studies, that small kittens that were kept in cages from the time they were born still saw the bars in front of them even when they were removed, and staring at this feast laid out in front of her, she had to wonder if she had been seeing bars where there were none.
If she still treated herself as a prisoner. She often kept to corners of the palace. She did not indulge herself overmuch. Some of it was wanting to preserve that which she felt was important. Her integrity. Some of it was being afraid that wanting too much would make her little more than a dictator.
But... He had brought all this food from restaurants run by her people. It surely benefited them that this money had been spent.
Her stomach growled. She was hungry. And she was...delighted.
“I have never seen so much food.” She frowned. “Except I must have. In the early days of the palace. I was twelve when that ended. And I know I have memories from before. But...”
“It’s hard,” he said, his voice surprisingly tender. “When memories from before are too good.”
She nodded. “Yes, it is not bad memories that I turn away from. The bad reminds me why I keep going. It always has. It is a terrible thing to think of my parents dying. But their deaths reminded me of why I lived. But remembering how happy we were...that was too painful. Well and truly.”
“Annick,” he said. “You can enjoy the food.”
She practically fell upon it then. She was starving. But it had more to do with everything else than it did actual physical hunger.
She piled the plate high with salad, french fries, bread, pastry. Steak.
“Quite an assortment.”
“It is what I want. Isn’t that what this is about? What I want?”
“Yes.”
