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She stopped, holding my empty cup with both hands, and squinted. “You must be from another court. Heathern if I’d have to guess by your warm complexion. King Windre does not allow common folk to keep Nymphs. Only those in his court or someone with money rich enough to buy one from him.”
“I’m not sure if that's a good or a bad thing,” Red mumbled.
“Good for the Nymphs, bad for me. I’ve got to pay the staff in my kitchen to work.” She shrugged and nodded with a polite bow, scooped my cup up, and gave Red a questioning look before heading back to the bar. It made me pause to think that maybe Red was right. Maybe there weren’t any Nymphs here.
Red watched the bubbles in her drink slowly rise to the top. She stared at it so hard I wondered if she had completely sunken into the deep recesses of her mind. Until she picked the cup up and took a tentative sip.
The owner dropped off another drink and disappeared without a word. I grinned, downing the glass as quickly as I had the first. Red merely continued taking sips here and there, her attention floating from face to face like she was waiting to find someone she recognized.
“Are you scared?” I finally asked. My body was feeling warm, it must have been the heat from the large light above.
“No,” Red bit out, then took a large gulp from her drink. “I’m fucking petrified, and this is all because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” She lowered her voice. “You just come waltzing into my court, my kitchen, acting like you are something you aren’t, and when you get caught you can’t just take your new assignment alone. No. You had to get me roped into it.”
“Oh, trust me. I did not pick you. If I had a choice, I would have picked someone a little more docile, a little more sane.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Do you think I care if you believe me or not? You can turn up that crooked nose of yours all you want, but I had nothing to do with it. It just happens to be my luck that I got stuck with the one Nymph with a fucking attitude problem.”
Red shook her head in disbelief, anger quickly becoming amusement. “If you think I’m the only one that has an attitude problem, then you’re wrong. I’m just the loudest. For now.”
A full glass appeared on the table, replacing my empty cup. I gripped it and drank part of it down. The sweetness helped to cool the burning rage that Red liked to light within me.
“You’re fucking annoying and you’ll get what you deserve when we get to the castle. So will any of your fucking little friends.” I laughed because it was all I felt like I was able to do.
The knobby bones in her shoulders lifted as she stiffened at my words. Her thin lips pressed together, becoming nearly nonexistent before she frowned deeply. Water brimmed in her eyes, but not a single tear fell. My heart ached for the way she looked…she looked Fae. She looked far too similar to me and I didn’t need to for her to feel more relatable to me in any way. Red was going to die in the Acture Court.
Greedily, I drank the last of my cup. Just in time too, as someone emerged from the kitchen with our sizzling plates and another drink for both Red and me. She had finally finished her cup, though she hadn’t said if she liked it or not. Surely she had, since it was empty.
Steam rolled off the meat, still slightly pink as I cut it open. A healthy side of various vegetables filled the remainder of the plate. And there was my sweet, pink drink to top it all off like a liquid dessert. I took another sip before I cut into the meat.
Red waited till I dug into my plate then picked up her fork and knife and started in on her own. Her shackles banged loudly against the table and plate, earning us a few unhappy glances.
“Here,” I whispered before I dug the key out of my pocket and leaned forward to remove the cuffs.
“Wanna get my feet, too?”
I chuckled, lifting my cup back up to my lips, “Not a chance.”
“Worth a try,” Red muttered.
My body warmed as I focused on my meal. Silence followed as we chewed through the tender meat and sipped from our cups. The more time that passed the more my hands began feeling heavier and harder to manage when I brought my fork to my mouth. I blinked as liquid pooled on the table and ran off into my lap. My seventh drink. Eighth? How many had I had? Something was wrong with me. My clumsy hands wrestled with a napkin, dabbing the liquid that continued to pour onto the cloth of my pant legs.
Red giggled. Then giggled again.
It was nothing I’d ever heard from her. For a moment it was sobering. I lifted my gaze and stared. One slender hand was cupping her mouth as more laughter tumbled out, her eyes half-hooded as she pointed at me.
“You know those drinks have alcohol,” she slurred. “And you drank a lot.”
“How many have you drunk?” Mentally, I was adding up our bill. Thank the gods I had set aside some of that money Marcus had tried to steal.
“Two. I’m not drunk, you are.” She hiccupped and both hands slapped over her mouth. “Shit, maybe I am drunk.”
“Not a lot of meat on those bones to balance it out.” I leaned into my seat, the wood groaning, suddenly aware of how gravity was affecting me and how the room danced in circles.
