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Although I was tempted to drink, I didn’t. I turned away from her, clothed myself in my leathers, and headed towards the door. “I will hear no more of this.”
But, of course, that was not the end of it.
Because when Saphira wanted something, she did not stop.
Sage
Iwas beginning to think agreeing to dinner was a bad idea, and it wasn’t because there werea lotmore people than I expected there to be—it was because of two other reasons: first, Aurelius was nowhere to be seen, and the second was because of the queen.
While everyone else was busy eating, chatting, laughing, and drinking their fill of wine and ale, the queen had not so much as glanced at her servant-dished plate—a fire-roasted dove, surrounded by a spread of cooked vegetables. I heard one of the nobles a few seats down murmur something about how eating a bird a day would lift oneself up, thus bringing them closer to the New Gods.
Little did he know that there was a goddess,apparently, seated at this very table, with an iron collar wrapped around her throat.
The hypocrisy of it all had my tongue sharpened and eager to take a swipe, but I sheathed my unspoken words and spared a quick glance towards the queen.
Her silk gown was stitched in finery, perfectly matching the ruby crown that shone brightly upon her head. A necklace, made from the same glinting gemstones, draped around her neck, distracting from the jowls forming under her chin, her body beginning to lose the battle against time. She had not touched her plate even though she had a fork in hand. Her fingers, covered in gaudy rings, strangled the metal handle with such intensity that it looked as though the bones in her knuckles might pop through the taut, thin skin.
One might think her sour mood was due to the Cursed filth—yours truly—sitting across from her, but her gray-blue eyes weren’t shooting daggers at me, but rather, at the young, beautiful woman seated next to me—who shared similar physical traits to the dressmaker.
She looked to be around my age, maybe a few years my elder. The emerald color of her formal gown complemented her rich, copper skin tone and long, curly, dark hair. Slowly, she chewed her food, each bite smaller than the last as if she wanted to drag the meal out for as long as possible—the satisfactory setting of her lush, painted lips securing that motive.
Despite the building tension, the king seemed blissfully unaware. He sat at the head of the table, shoving his greasy fingers into his mouth and sucking on them loud enough for the entire room to hear—and it was no small room, byanymeans.
The hall was thrice as long as it was wide, a stretch of tables placed directly in the middle, illuminated by the firelight coming from the torches hung along the walls and the ironchandeliers strung from the wooden beams above. At the far end, a gigantic fireplace stretched from wall to wall, its stone-framed mouth filled with a massive, crackling fire that brought forth a continuous roll of heat, chasing away winter’s cold caress.
As I sat there, stealing small glances at the king and the queen—one whose table mannersIeven found repulsive, and the other, snarling like a beast—I was almost tempted to laugh.
Thesewere the people leading Edenvale? The same people who sniffed their noses up at the Cursed, and sent them to the pyre because they labeledusa disease? Internally, I cringed.
“I do not see why she must eat with us, Hakred,” the queen said as her gaze shot to the king with such force, it was a wonder it didn’t knock him out of his chair.
The use of the king’s first name nearly caused me to choke on the wine I was drinking. Sage from two months ago would never have believed where she was now. Dipping my head and pretending to be invested in the vegetables on my plate and not the court drama unraveling before me, I peeked at the king through the guise of my upper lashes.
“She sits with us because I wish it to be,” he replied as he chewed with his mouth open.
“But she sits there, deliberately pecking at her food like a little bird. She does it just to annoy me.” The queen jerked her head from side to side, mocking the woman, as she said, “Peck, peck, peck.”
I hid my surprise at the queen’s unqueenlike behavior.
“At least I do not eat like a sloppy, old sow,” the woman beside me quipped confidently before she slipped a piece of cheese into her mouth.
My brow shot up as I eyed the king, particularly the ball of mashed-up food inside his mouth that made its debut every time he chewed. I was tempted to ask the female beside me ifshe meant the king rather than the queen, but kept my tongue trapped firmly between my teeth, lest it might slip free.
“A sow!” the queen wailed as she slammed her fist against the table, plates and cutlery chattering in startled response. “Are you implying that I, the queen of Edenvale, eatlike a sow?”
The room fell deathly quiet.
“Well,” the woman started, her voice controlled, unfeeling, yet sensual, “who else would I be talking about?”
I nearly fell over. She couldn’t be serious. I didn’t know who this girl was, but she had just insulted the second most powerful person in all of Edenvale, and worse, she had done it publicly . . . I decided I just might like her.
“You are a disgusting, dirty whore,” the queen growled, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.
Ah, and there it was, the missing piece to this whole puzzle—the woman was the king’s mistress.
“Better to be a whore than an unwanted queen.” The woman’s sharp tongue was quick to strike again, continuing the queen’s public lashing.
The king choked, his eyes going wide. He thumped his fist against his chest—trying to dislodge whatever he had sucked back. His face turned as red as the beets on his plate.
