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“I’ve neverbeenso flustered.” She forces a laugh. “All these new rules and protocols to memorize. Getting you up and dressed on time because life here runs on a strict clock. Remembering the castle layout. I know there’s a learning curve, but it’s a lot to tackle in a day.”
“Liz, I’m sorry.” I bump her gently with my arm. “I didn’t mean to add more stress to your plate.”
She shakes her head. “You’re fine, Irissa. I’ll be okay once I get used to the new routine.”
Despite her words, my mouth still sags into a frown.
I feel like I’ve let her down or asked her to carry more than she’s able, even though that wasn’t exactly the case. It’s my fault she’s here. My fault she’s struggling. I add making things up to her to my mental to do list and follow her lead as she takes us to the dining hall.
Compared to the massive rooms I’ve been in thus far, the dining hall is small and intimate. An intricate black fireplace sits at the end of the hall, a ten-foot painting of an armor-clad minotaur hanging above it. A long table with a dozen chairs, some of which are already occupied, sits in the middle beneath a set of iron light fixtures. It’s laden with candelabras, place settings, and bowls of fresh fruit.
Three servants stand silently against the walls, and as we slide into the room, Lizette steps away without a word and takes her place near them. My eyes fall to the seated minotaurs, and my heart climbs its way into my throat.
King Rukkus sits at the end of the table, his massive form hiding most of the chair beneath him. His eyes jump to me as I step inside, and my blood runs cold. Zen might have an evil aura that makes me want to run, but the weight of the king’s intense glare makes me want to dig myself a hole to hide in. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of his wrath.
The queen sits to his right, an apple in one hand as she carries on a low conversation with one of her daughters. When I pause at the end of the table, her eyes skirt in my direction, and she smiles warmly.
At least one of them likes me.
“Good day, Princess Irissa,” she says, waving me closer. “Join us. Sit wherever you’d like.”
The daughter, whose dress has the highest collar I’ve ever seen, glances in my direction but says nothing. We didn’t get a chance to talk at the wedding, so I don’t know if she’s being standoffish or exceptionally polite.
“Good day, Queen Torria,” I say, dipping my head respectfully before taking a seat toward the middle of the table. I’m far enough away that I can hopefully avoid conversation with the king, but close enough that I’m not ostracizing myself.
“Did you sleep well?” she asks, ignoring the harsh look she gets from her husband.
For having arranged this marriage, he doesn’t seem pleased with his decision. What the hell did I do to piss him off?
“I did,” I say, clearing my throat to keep my voice from breaking. My throat is tight with nerves, my hands shaking. Now that we’re away from a giant crowd and in such close proximity, it’ll be easy for them to scrutinize my every move. They’ll see and call out my flaws. Perhaps they’ll even deem me unworthy of this marriage and send me packing back to Hyatt. Everything feels uncertain. “My room is lovely.”
Thoughts of the events that took place on the way to my room last night and the reason I slept so soundly dance around the edges of my memory, but I quickly shoo them away.
“Wonderful. If you find yourself in need of anything, let one of the servants know,” she says, before gesturing to her daughter. “Did you get a chance to meet Xaina yesterday?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Likewise,” she replies, her voice soft and tender. She might have peculiar taste in clothes, but her calm and regal presence reminds me of the queen.
Queen Torria looks like she’s about to say something else, but the clack of a door smashing open captures everyone’s attention. Nor’s other sister strolls in, her violently purple dress flapping around her feet as she hurries to the table. A gaudy necklace glitters at her throat, and several chunky rings adorn her fingers.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, waving a hand like she’s swatting away bugs. “I couldn’t find the shoes I wanted and had to change my outfit twice.”
She pulls out the chair next to the king and bends to kiss the top of his head, careful to avoid knocking their horns together. He hardly acknowledges the gesture before she takes a seat and swivels her head in my direction.
“Hello. I’m Orabelle.”
I stammer a greeting, thrown off by the informality.
Her eyes skate down the table past me and a coy smile twists her features.
“Did Nor refuse to get out of bed this morning?” she asks, wagging her eyebrows at me. “He’s normally the first one to the table.”
“I—” My voice trails off.
Am I supposed to lie and tell them that he refused to get out of bed? Do I admit we didn’t consummate the marriage? I’m still painfully ignorant of Ulleh politics—something I need to get on top of as soon as possible—and I have no idea if failing to consummate a marriage goes against any of their laws. Besides, I don’t care to discuss my sex life with my in-laws over breakfast.
“We… uh… I’m not sure where he is.”
