Chapter 7
I stopped between the dining room doors and frowned at the people surrounding the giant oak table.
Most evenings, I ate alone.
Suspicion narrowed my eyes on the ghost and the cook—then raised my brows at the captain of the royal guard, who stood between the stained windows on the right side of the room. Ovan gave me a half-hearted shrug, his armored chest glinting from the few candles ablaze in the iron chandelier.
Brey stood along the adjacent wall by the head of the table. A black ribbon secured his hair at his nape. His matching coat was open, diamond buttons agleam. Beneath, he wore charcoal britches and a black tunic.
All four of them appeared to be waiting for me.
Though I’d removed the curling ribbons from my hair and applied a flick of lash ink, I felt woefully underprepared for whatever this was in my silk robe and day slippers.
At a disadvantage.
As I cautiously strode into the room, past a curiously quiet Hanna and Groth, Brey untucked my chair at the head of the table. I sat, crossing my legs as he took the seat beside me.
“What is the meaning of this?” I looked from the empty table to the hutch lining the windowless side of the room. It held nothing but smudged glassware and stacked plates. Glowering at Hanna, I asked, “Where’s my tea?”
Brey slouched in his chair. “Breakfast is being held hostage.”
Shocked, I nearly shouted, “You’ve ambushed breakfast?”
Groth, standing beside Hanna near the opposite end of the table, tugged at his purple cravat.
Hanna wrung her hands. “We need to talk to you both, and we figured…” She looked at her comrades, but the ghost and the captain averted their gazes to the floor and ceiling. Hanna sighed, then said to us, “You need to feed the wards.” Her chin rose. “Immediately.”
Scathingly soft, Brey repeated, “Immediately?”
Ovan ran a hand over his cropped orange hair. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here.”
“I’m more than willing to put this horrid ward business behind us.” With a sidelong glance at Brey, I said, “He’s the one who cannot abstain from his gluttonous cravings for three measly evenings.”
Brey drawled, “Do I detect jealousy?”
“That would be distaste. Disgust.” I tried to slice him open with my eyes. “Disdain.”
“Easy now.” Brey’s grin was genuine—crooked. “You’re drawing blood.” Reaching beneath the table, as if to adjust himself, he said, “To one very particular place.”
Groth pleaded to the cobweb-dusted chandelier, “Great Mother have mercy.”
“Can I be excused?” Ovan asked.
My stomach warmed even as I asked, “May I at least have a fork?” I smiled at my husband. “I have the sudden urge to stab something.”
Brey’s grin didn’t waver.
Not even when Hanna slapped her hands onto the table and leaned over it. “You must see to the wards,” she said. “Every evening we waste makes the veil thinner. It won’t be long until our harbor is flooded with foreign ships.”
Stunned by her outburst, I gaped at the cook. Then I studied her wide blue eyes, the frustration reddening her cheeks and giving color to her fading freckles. “Hanna, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps you have an ulterior motive.”
“Perhaps you want us gone,” Brey said.
I nodded. “Perhaps even dead.”
Ovan snorted.
Gasping, I gave Hanna a sharp look. “Might I warn you that whoever takes our place won’t be quite as tolerant as we are.”
Groth’s mouth opened and closed as he looked from the cook to me to Brey.
Easing away from the table, Hanna scowled. “You’re vampires. The odds of you dying are minuscule.”
“Ah.” Brey lifted a finger. “But not nonexistent.”
“So getting wounded is fine?” I said, “You do it, then.”
“I would if I could.” Hanna’s polka-dot apron scrunched as she crossed her arms.
I scoffed. “I highly doubt—”
Ovan raised his voice. “Do I need to be here?”
“No,” we all said at once.
The captain threw up his hands and marched out the doors.
As if the made vampire had taken her courage with him, Hanna’s shoulders slumped. “Majesties.” A dramatically blown breath billowed her cheeks. “I know things between you two have been…” Her pert nose crinkled. “But we cannot delay this any longer.”
She was right.
Because she’d kept me from a cup of tea, I really didn’t feel like admitting as much. So I poked at a notch in the oak table.
“Upheaval grows. Supplies are draining.” Hanna paused before saying, “We’re not only concerned for the well-being of the isle. We’re genuinely frightened.”
My finger stilled. I looked over at Brey.
But he merely dug what appeared to be dried blood from beneath his fingernail. He made a face, then flicked it to the floor.
“Brey,” I hissed.
His green eyes roamed to me. “Mm?”
I bobbed my head at the cook. “Did you hear what Hanna said?”
“Oh yes.” Flicking his fingers once more, he straightened. “Are we finished, then?” Without waiting for an answer, he rose fluidly from his seat and strode across the room.
His long black coat fluttered behind him through the doors.