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"Shame she inherited little from either of her parents," Merelda says with a sigh. "I suppose not every child can be so lucky."
The two share a look, content with speaking about me as though I'm not standing but a few feet away from them. I press my lips together, doing my best to ignore their comments as my eyes slip to Cyprian.
He doesn't say a word, his eyes focused down on his plate, his shoulders tense. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he'd been punished just as I had.
Suddenly, Merelda's attention shifts to her youngest son.
"I'd almost forgotten you were here, Cyprian," she says, reaching for her wine glass, a slow smile pulling at her lips.
I’ve seen her look at me this way, and it never ends well.
For some reason, I feel the urge to give Cyprian some kind of warning. Not that he’s so much as glanced in my direction since he arrived in the dining room just minutes after his mother and brother were seated.
Though, he's probably been ignoring me in front of them for my own good.
"Come now," Merelda continues, pausing to take a sip of her wine, "don't look so sullen. I have good news for you."
"Somehow, I doubt that," Cyprian mumbles, his voice hard.
Merelda's smile slips slightly, but she presses on nonetheless, "I've finally found a suitable wife for you."
Silence fills the room.
Cyprian stiffens, his hand stilling as he stops pushing the peas around his plate. Then, too slowly, he sets it down. Lifting his eyes to meet Merelda's, I can't quite see what passes between them, but I watch as the smile falls from her face.
"No."
The word slips softly from his lips, his voice altogether terrifying in its calmness.
"I'm afraid it's not up for discussion, dear," Merelda continues, her own eyes suddenly unable or unwilling to meet his. "It's high time that you were settled with a family of your own. Perhaps then you'll finally manage to stay out of the tavern long enough to think straight."
"I have no interest in marriage."
Merelda clicks her tongue at this.
"Really, Cyprian, I'm not sure where I went wrong with you. You should be more worried about strengthening the family name. It’s in our best interest to have you producing heirs as soon as possible. Preferably within the next year.”
“I would much rather sire a thousand bastard children than marry a woman you chose for me,” Cyprian snarls.
"Don't be such a fool," Merelda snaps.
Shoving his chair back from the table, it topples over as he stands and glares down at his mother.
"And what of Amadeus? He's the eldest, shouldn't siring an heir be of his concern, not mine?"
"Of course, but you of all people should know that your brother is special. He can't just be married off to any wench of decent breeding," Merelda responds without hesitation. "He needs someone nearly as special as he is. Someone I have yet to find."
"I'll never be wed, Mother," Cyprian says, the heaviness of his voice sending goosebumps racing across my skin, "let alone to some wench, as you so delicately put it, that you've chosen. I'd rather our family name die with me than give you such pleasure."
I let out a small gasp at this before quickly clamping a hand over my mouth, but it's too late. I've already drawn everyone's attention to my presence. Their expressions are nearly as surprised as my own, as if for one moment, I was truly forgotten in the shadows of the room.
Merelda’s cold eyes flash to me, anger in them as she takes me in.
"Amadeus and Cyprian, leave us this instant."
Amadeus is quick to obey, the cruel grin he shoots my way all too familiar. Cyprian, however hesitates as he glances over at me, his expression searching, questioning. I give him the smallest of nods, and he turns to follow his brother from the room.
A tense moment passes in their wake as I wait for what's to come.
