CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT #3
“Vay-vay,” the woman cooed, the slight lilt of a barely-there accent wrapping around her vowels.
She stopped at the edge of our table, ignoring the empty stool in favor of crossed arms and a popped hip.
The pout that plumped her lower lip seemed little more than performative, smeared with a pink that complemented her light-toned, sun-drenched skin perfectly.
“Thought you could sneak through without saying hello?”
They clearly knew one another, so why did the familiar way she spoke to Vayen set my teeth on edge?
“I was indeed hoping to avoid you,” Vayen said without looking up at her.
Instead, Vayen took another spoonful of soup, her gaze locked on the wall behind me.
“If the tan is any indication, you’re still staining Cleove with your presence.
What an unfortunate coincidence I happened to need provisions at the same time you resurfaced. ”
“Pleasant, as usual,” the woman said without dropping her pout. The casual way with which she insulted Vayen caused me to huff into my drink. “And who might you be?” She tilted her entire head to the opposite side before looking right at me, lips curling into a smile I had no desire to return.
I held her gaze, taking another pull from my mug. I didn’t miss the way her green eyes widened at the raw skin encircling my wrist, the welts peeking beyond the sleeve of my dress.
Before I could decide how to answer her question, Vayen answered for me. “She’s Catrin’s niece. I’m escorting her to Castle Sor on Catrin’s behalf.”
I hadn’t been sure whether Vayen intended on keeping my identity a secret from this woman. That answered that question.
“And does Catrin’s niece have a name?”
I hadn’t spoken yet, but her eyes remained locked on mine. I sensed the smallest twitch of Vayen’s hand, the one that rested on the table, and my mouth opened reflexively.
“Deysi.” I supplied my mother’s name with a tight-lipped smile; even ‘Lyssa’ didn’t feel safe in this woman’s hands, and when Vayen dipped her chin as she reached for her own mug, I knew I’d made the right choice. With more conviction, I added, “Deysi Denan. And you are?”
“I’m Sera,” she said, re-tucking her already tucked hair behind an ear.
The smug indent of her smile suggested she thought that might mean something to me, and when recognition did not spark on my face, she made a chiding noise.
“Oh, dear.” As though she’d been invited, Sera eased herself onto the stool with a gracefulness that would have brought a tear to Tilda’s eye, crossing one long leg over the other and retrieving the mug that Haize had clearly left for her.
“Come now, Vay-Vay. You haven’t regaled your consort with tales of your first love? ”
My jaw nearly affixed itself to the table. I wished to appear more poised in front of this woman, intimidated not only by the sheer presence of her but also by her connection to Vayen, yet the drink mixed comfortably with stew in my belly and I wore my shock plainly.
Vayen dropped her spoon into the soup, her patience in a clear and rapid decline. “She is not my consort. I am merely—”
Sera reached for my cheek, her long fingers extended in what appeared to be the intentions of a caress.
The buzzing feeling in my limbs rooted me to the spot, and I could only watch as Vayen lunged—nearly knocking her pot over in the process—to seize Sera’s wrist. With a pull that lurched Sera’s entire body forward, Vayen had closed the distance between them considerably, features frozen in that familiar, unsettling way. Her voice hummed low when she spoke.
“You will not lay a hand on her.”
My breathing hitched, the intensity of her summoning a deep thrum in my core that was completely uninvited, unwarranted, undesired. And yet desire pulsed rhythmically within me as I watched her all but threaten this woman for merely daring to brush my cheek.
The flutter of fear that had widened Sera’s green eyes dissipated as quickly as it appeared, replaced instead with that same smug smirk I’d already begun to loathe.
“And you expect me to believe she doesn’t belong to you?” Sera said, her voice sickeningly sweet. She leaned her face even closer to Vayen’s, as though she wanted nothing more than to be kissed by her.
Vayen scoffed, her stony countenance morphing easily into disgust as she threw Sera’s arm down to the table and returned to her seat, the curls on her forehead bouncing with the movement.
Stars above. She had no right being that protective over me, and I had no right allowing that sharp look in her eye to beckon an urge I’d not felt in many, many moons.
Resolute, I pressed my knees together to dissuade the heat that radiated throughout my lower belly.
I, in fact, did not belong to Vayen—whatever that meant.
But the idea didn’t sound quite as repulsive as it should have.
Something was definitely wrong with me.
At that same moment, Vayen nearly knocked over her mug, mumbling an apology under her breath as I flinched from the noise of her righting it on the table.
As though Sera hadn’t just been in danger of losing her hand, she laced her fingers beneath her chin and regarded me once more, excitement tightening her cheeks and widening her eyes.
“It seems we startled Vay-vay,” she said with a small laugh.
“Never mind any of that. What I want to know is how you convinced her to tie you up.”
“What?” I squeaked out, an embarrassing little hiccup accompanying the word. I was shocked I hadn’t already been doused in a blush from the heat between my legs. Now there was no hope for my warming cheeks, even in the sparse candlelight.
“Well, if her claims are true and she’s escorting you to Sor—not holding you captive like my sisters claim—then those wounds on your wrist must have been earned in play. Tell me… did she make you beg for it?”
“Sera,” Vayen warned. “Stop.”
But the woman clearly had no intention of doing so.
“I could never have convinced her to fuck me that hard,” she continued. “When she had you restrained, her mouth hovering inches from that pretty Soran pussy, did you—”
“Shut your mouth or I will shut it for you,” Vayen all but growled.
It seemed I’d forgotten how to breathe. The image burned bright in my mind: legs spread, a head of dark curls drawing downward, searching for the part of me I’d reserved for a marriage that would never be.
Sera’s would-be charm and playfulness vanished, replaced with the rage that had clearly been simmering beneath the surface. She stood and slammed her fists on the table in one swift motion.
Heads turned, the tavern’s stillness now directed at us. Meanwhile, I was ripped violently from the intimate portrait Sera had painted, and the surprise of it all nearly sent me tumbling to the floor.
Sera’s green eyes were moon-sized with fury, white teeth exposed as she enunciated each word with the precision of a blade. “Why are you dragging a Soran whore through my village? Who is she?”
Vayen was the only one who remained unshaken by her hysteric display. “It’s not your village anymore.”
“That’s the part of her outburst you take issue with?” I forced out. My voice was weak with stifled embarrassment, and I worried I’d given myself away, but no one was listening to me. Vayen’s words had clearly struck Sera, if her hurt expression was any indication.
“You’re right. Cobble Crossing doesn’t belong to me anymore. You made sure of that,” she spat.
“The consequences of your actions are your own,” Vayen said simply, as though the woman wasn’t a funnel of uncorked rage.
“Oh, but of course! People’s lives just happen to fall apart whenever you’re around, don’t they, Vay-vay? It couldn’t have anything to do with your constant meddling.” Sera’s words were sharp, and even though Vayen didn’t immediately lash out, I wondered if they landed true.
When Vayen finally did speak, her tone was measured. She held Sera’s gaze, unwavering in the surety of her words. “That you’re even pretending you can reallocate this blame just proves how right about you everyone was.”
“You cunt. You and your pretty whore will regret the moment you stepped foot in my territory…” As Sera’s hand withdrew from the table to ease itself into the arc of her dagger’s handle, it was clear Vayen had chosen a particularly sore wound to slice open.
They were going to come to blows, I just knew it.
I braced myself on my stool, prepared to stumble towards the door should the opportunity present itself, but something halted Sera’s movements.
Vayen’s features had gone cold, the silver of her eyes disappearing behind an ever-expanding pupil until her whole gaze went black beneath the candle’s dim flame.
There was no quirk of her lips, or fluttering jawline—she may as well have been a statue.
It seemed to be her stillness that gave Sera pause, grip loosening on the handle of her dagger, as though Vayen might strike at any moment should the threat of unsheathing remain.
I knew that expression. It was seared into my mind’s eye, a calling back to Kroul’s hand on my body and the terrifying way the light had evaporated from Vayen’s entirety, only to be replaced with a cold, calculated creature whose sole purpose was—was what?
To defend? To harm? I still couldn’t be sure.
The only thing I did know was that I had no intention of greeting that side of her again, not if there was something I could do to stop it.
“Vayen,” I said in the most soft, careful tone I could employ. Just as before, her blank eyes snapped to mine. “I’m tired after the day’s journey. Perhaps we should return to our room?”
It was petty the way I emphasized “our room,” yet I had the distinct desire to ensure this woman knew that neither Vayen nor myself would be alone tonight.