Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ALINA
Isat at the head of the table. Lord Rutherford had sent his regards, declining to join us for dinner.
An obvious sign that whatever game he was playing was still in motion.
I was surrounded by my clan warriors who had been instructed to follow me everywhere since I was caught sneaking out to the market.
The empty chair beside me spoke louder than anything else in the room.
Tynan still had not returned, and there was no way for me to find out what was happening because both Sage and Mayer were with him.
Was something wrong at the border? Was Tynan injured? Or had he already grown so tired of me that he needed time away?
I lifted my eyes, examining the dining hall.
It was so incredibly quiet in the space filled with heavy wooden tables and benches.
The knights of the enemy clan were shamelessly scrutinizing me.
No doubt wondering where my husband was.
I carefully chewed my food, feeling not even a hint of hunger.
The smell of baked chicken and sweet wine made my stomach turn.
Augusta moved her head and I felt her eyes on me. Her gaze felt cold, appraising, inquiring. Her back was artificially straight, her light hair was lifted up into a high twist. She looked straight ahead and slowly patted her lips with a napkin.
I could remember my father frequently disappearing from his wife, and how wretched it always made her.
Back then, I blamed her for pushing him away with her constant neurotic fits.
I knew how much the two of them argued. As I got older, I understood better.
He would leave for weeks at a time to hunt with his men.
There was no way of knowing what exactly he was doing.
My stepmother just stayed home, all alone, taking care of his kids from other marriages.
My brother and I were only related by our paternal bloodline.
I picked up an elaborately decorated goblet and traced my fingers along its stem. Its sides reflected the light of multiple candles and shimmered brightly with gold and copper.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as my maid approached me.
“Milady, your husband sent you a message. He apologizes for his absence and asks you not to wait for him tonight,” May whispered.
Why? What happened? Why wouldn’t he tell me what was going on? Was it a clan business? Or had he found something more exciting to do elsewhere, just like many men before him?
The blood drained from my face and I could physically feel Augusta watching me again.
I nodded, releasing her.
I looked at my hands as memories from long ago filled my head.
I was five or six. My stepmother stood by the window.
Her hand clenched a damp piece of cloth.
Tears rolled down her sallow cheeks. She wore makeup that was supposed to conceal the bruises on her neck.
Splotches of rouge still remained on her face, but her tears smeared the paint on her skin.
I gripped the hem of my skirt, I always tried to be invisible when she was in one of her moods.
At times like these, I felt like something in her was tearing apart at the seams.
“It’s the fate of a woman, Alina. Men are not like us. They forget their promises and then they leave.”
Those words stayed with me for years.
“Is everything alright?” Augusta’s voice broke the silence.
It was the first time she addressed me.
“Yes. Thank you, Lady Augusta.”
Her lips settled into a pleasant smile. As if she knew what was on my mind.
“Did they catch the person responsible for the breach?” Augusta took a sip of her wine.
“I’m afraid it’s too early to share their findings.” I made sure that my face did not betray any emotions.
She watched me without saying anything else. No doubt she was prying to see how much I was involved in the daily affairs of the black clan. She could never know that I was kept in complete darkness.
“I’ve heard so much about you. Raised in the human world, taken here to be disposed of in a marriage by the strongest clan. It is fascinating,” she calmly observed.
I touched the goblet, but did not pick it up. The sour scent of wine made me nauseous.
“It seemed, however, that the third son from the clan of traitors was lucky to solicit your hand,” she continued.
I looked up at her, noticing the dismissive way she talked about my marriage. “You are quite fortunate that the old, obsolete, tradition of bloody duels agreed with the unrefined upbringing of your husband,” she continued, a thin smile appearing on her lips.
“You are absolutely right. I appreciate my luck very deeply. I was able to carve out my own destiny, free from the whims, wishes and wants of my family members.” I met her gaze.
Augusta’s mask of cold civility cracked and her nostrils flared.
Contrary to what she tried to portray, she was not intimidated by the situation she was in.
I could physically feel the resentment, the anger that boiled deep within her.
Her father had deemed her unworthy of his position, and she clearly has not reconciled with the fact that she was never even considered.
“When can we expect your father to join us?” I asked.
“Lord Rutherford is unwell.”
“Lady Augusta, you probably know that the effects of the sacred water can be beneficial in fighting common illnesses.” I patted my lips with a napkin.
“My father’s condition is far from common. He has all the help he needs.” She turned away.
I played with my fork. There was something I was missing.
There was strength and power that was buried underneath her delicate skin and cool eyes.
Augusta was protecting her father, that much was obvious, but deep down I knew there was something else.
She was forced to play her part, and she was not happy about it.
Augusta’s lips pressed tightly together, the light of the torch accentuated her slightly crooked nose and long, pale eyelashes.
And then it became plain as day. Augusta was a proud woman.
She wanted to be distinguished by her clan, but she never had the chance to show her worth.
As it turned out, we had a lot in common. Both of us were women in a world where women were often overlooked, expected to compromise and be convenient.
I looked straight ahead. The rest of the dinner was spent in complete silence, broken only by clinking of silverware.