Chapter 3 Dinner with Wolves
DINNER WITH WOLVES
Rheya nudged me as we left the kitchen. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t.
Vaeris’s blank stare had hit me hard. I’d rather he cursed at me. At least it’d mean he felt something, but the Vaeris who’d snuck me into inns and showered me with sweet kisses had looked straight through me. But then, he’d looked through me that night, too.
Money from selling the contents of the jewelry box would keep us alive when we escaped, and that’s what mattered—not him. He’d made his choice months ago.
Just make it through dinner.
I kept my head low as we entered the dining room.
Candles floated in silver sconces, the light softening the table set with polished crystal and gleaming cutlery. Vaeris sat across from Taryn. His eyes grazed over me like I was a relic collecting dust in his memory.
“Lovely,” Henrik purred as I served him the stew. “You girls have outdone yourselves tonight.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Vaeris studied his wine. “I passed through the human quarter today. Another building collapsed. Five dead.”
Henrik cut into his meat. “A tragedy, but inevitable when they’re so poorly maintained.”
“By their owners, you mean. The fae.”
Henrik’s knife scraped against his plate. “The buildings used to be sound, but the humans, they don’t keep up with repairs. They’re…well, made for different things.”
“How so?”
Henrik gestured with his fork. “They’re happier with simple tasks. It’s in their nature.”
A chill swept into the room, and I shivered.
“Tell me, Henrik,” Vaeris said softly. “Do you know much about my mother’s nature?”
Henrik blanched.
Shadows began pooling at Vaeris’s feet. “She was human. Built for simple tasks.”
“Your Highness, I spoke without thinking.”
“No.” Vaeris smiled, and the candle flames rippled toward him. “You said exactly what you think. Which makes me wonder what other opinions you hold.”
The candlelight flickered.
Henrik flinched. “I would never question your authority.”
The air chilled even more and frost crystallized on the glasses, Taryn’s breath coming out in puffs. She pressed herself back in her seat as shadowy tendrils climbed the walls.
“I’m glad we understand each other.”
Vaeris’s smile sharpened. The candles steadied, warmth returning to the room.
Something twisted in my chest—a flutter of pride mixed with confusion. This was the Vaeris I remembered, who’d whispered about making the world better for people like us.
Henrik stroked my arm. “Pour the prince more wine before he thinks we’ve forgotten our manners.”
I took the wine jug and moved to Vaeris. I poured, the deep blue spirit slipping into the glass. Then I turned to Henrik and filled his cup.
Henrik laughed, then reached for his drink. A light flush crawled up his throat, bleeding into his cheeks. “I don’t often get attached to servants, but this one grows on you like a houseplant.”
Taryn shifted, her mouth thinning as her eyes darted between Vaeris and me.
Vaeris set his drink down with a soft clink. “Obedience isn’t a virtue. It’s licking the boot before it steps on them.”
My hand froze around the jug.
Henrik raised a brow. “Harsh words, my prince.”
Vaeris leaned back in his chair. “Merely an observation. She’ll be easy to control. She only needs a warm bed. The rest handles itself.”
The room tilted.
A warm bed.
I clutched the wine jug, my fingers white-knuckling the neck. I’d known what I was to him—a convenient distraction that he’d never publicly acknowledge. I’d ended things because of it, but hearing him say it out loud cleaved into my heart.
Breathe. Play the perfect servant for five more minutes.
I focused on stacking plates, anything but his cruelty, then disappeared into the kitchen to suck in a broken breath.
Rheya stood near the sink. She turned, frowning. “Aelie?”
I slammed the tray onto the counter, the dishes rattling. Then I scurried up the narrow servants’ staircase.
Don’t cry. Not yet.
I climbed the steps quickly. The walls blurred as I fumbled with the latch, shoving the door open. I grabbed the nearest thing—a trinket I’d taken a few days ago—and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the wall, glass skidding everywhere.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. This was exactly what I’d feared. He’d never defend me in front of other fae, not when his half-human blood already made him a target for their whispers.
The memory of his touch still lived inside me.
Those late nights in hidden corners of the city, when he’d fuse his lips to mine and tear off my clothes.
Twelve months together, three apart. Apparently that was long enough for him to move on.
He couldn’t even meet my eyes. He sat there and let them mock me—joined them—and never once flinched.
I wiped at my face, hating that I’d wondered if he ever thought about what we’d had, but tonight had given me my answer.
That was the real Vaeris. The prince who couldn’t afford to care about a human.
Maybe the tender version of him had never existed and I’d built him from scraps of stolen moments and desperation.
Heavy feet stormed up the stairs. I dried my face as Rheya stepped into the dim light.
“I’m going back downstairs and I’m going to kill him.”
“Rheya.”
“He is such a bastard.” She crossed to me in three strides, crouching down. “He had no godsdamned right to speak about you like that.”
“I’m fine,” I managed.
“You’re crying in the dark surrounded by broken glass.”
I wiped my face. “It doesn’t matter.”
She yanked me into a fierce hug. “You are not easy to control. You’re the smartest, bravest person I know, and if he can’t see that, he’s a fucking fool.”
My throat closed again. Different tears now—the kind that came from being seen. From being loved fiercely when you felt worthless.
Rheya pulled back, frowning. “Well, while you were up here, I stayed to clear the table and I’m telling you, something weird is going on.”
“What do you mean?”
“Henrik and Taryn. They’re both acting strange.” Rheya’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t notice how stiff they were?”
“They’re always nervous around royals.”
“This was something else. Like they were scared.”
I pictured Lord Henrik’s flushed cheeks. How his smile slipped the second Vaeris started speaking. Taryn, hiding her twitchy mouth behind her wine.
“They’re terrified of him,” I said.
“Maybe,” Rheya said. “Or they’re worried about whatever brought him here.”
I stood and moved toward the narrow window, peering through the glass at the snow-covered courtyard. “I’ll go back down and see what I can find out.”
“Be careful.”
I descended the servants’ stairs. The dining room had transformed in our absence—dimmer now, the hearth casting shadows that writhed like grasping fingers. Tense male voices drifted from the drawing room.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I crouched beside the door. They could probably scent me. If I was caught listening to their conversation, Henrik would thrash me. I pressed my ear to the wood anyway.
“—can’t continue like this.” Henrik’s voice was tight with barely controlled panic. “Three houses just this month. The High Cleric is asking questions.”
A long pause. “What kind of questions?” Vaeris asked.
“Ones that end with executions.” Henrik growled. “The incidents in my quarter aren’t isolated, are they?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because residential protections that should last decades are simply…gone. Not weakened, not drained over time like they should be. Gone. Runes don’t disappear. It’s not possible.”
The soft clink of glass on wood. “Hm.”
“You don’t look surprised. Gods, you know something.”
Vaeris inhaled a deep breath. “I can’t share details, but yes. It’s under investigation.”
Shit. They were on to us.
“Then tell me what you can,” Henrik demanded. “People are frightened. They’re looking to me for answers I don’t have.”
“The king has instructed me to meet with the High Cleric tomorrow,” Vaeris said carefully. “I’m to brief him on the situation.”
A chair scraped against the floor. “That’s not how this works, Your Highness. You know the arrangement as well as anyone. The clerics hold dominion over all runic magic, and the Crown commands the host. This has kept the peace for centuries.”
“I respect that balance as much as you, but the command came from my father. The Crown cannot stand idle while runes collapse across the realm.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Henrik snapped. “The Order has exclusive authority over runes. The divide exists because neither power can corrupt the other.”
“And what happens when that system fails?” Vaeris asked quietly, but there was steel beneath it.
“Then the clerics investigate it themselves, as they always have.”
“The High Cleric has been doing that for months,” Vaeris murmured. “He’s found nothing. The king believes, and I agree, that we cannot afford patience while lives are in danger.”
A heavy silence followed.
“You’re talking about undermining the foundation of our society,” Henrik whispered.
“I’m trying to save it.” Vaeris’s voice softened into that tone that made disaster sound inevitable. “Do you think I chose this? That I enjoy being wedged between my father’s will and the clerics? My hands are tied.”
I backed from the door.
They’re investigating us.
The words hammered in my skull as I stumbled toward the stairs.
Vaeris was lying to Henrik. He knew exactly who was behind the broken runes—he’d seen me break them. That meant he hadn’t told them about me.
Why not? To protect me?
I forced myself upstairs and pushed open the door to the attic, my hand smarting. If the High Cleric was already asking questions, it wouldn’t be long before they discovered me.
They’d come for Rheya, too.
We had to leave as soon as possible.