Chapter 7 #2
Daire stood tall beside her, his arm held out, displaying her like some kind of living ornament. He fit in here or at least tried to. She tsked and rolled her eyes.
A servant with a tray of small brown sausages walked by, and the smoky aroma instantly made her mouth water. Her stomach growled to prove a point. A small plate of fruit appeared in front of her. Daire held the food with an encouraging nod. “The freshest berries you’ll ever have,” he said.
Tal reluctantly chose a red one. When she bit down, a rush of sugary sweet juice hit her tongue, and she groaned.
Daire smiled triumphantly. “I can provide you with food this sweet anytime.”
“If I marry you,” she finished for him. When Daire didn’t deny it, Tal shook her head but eyed the nearby servants in search of more food.
She grabbed a plate or cup off any tray that passed by and relished the flavor of each without care of how audibly she enjoyed the taste.
She commented none-too-quietly about the small portions and earned herself a few stares from nearby attendees.
Servants started to avoid her, but Tal managed to snag a few slices of bread from one as he passed by.
Daire regarded her with weary eyes. “Please try to behave,” he whispered.
Tal paused chewing for a moment, wondering how best to tell him to screw off, but caught an approaching servant out of the corner of her eye.
She inwardly delighted at the horror on Daire’s face when she grabbed a glass of wine off the passing tray and drank the red liquid in three gulps.
Sybil’s choked chuckle reached her ears as she set the empty glass down on the frightened servant’s tray.
She turned back to Daire and spread her arms wide.
“I am a picture of utmost civility, my lord,” she mocked, bowing her head and giving him an evil grin.
Daire ushered her through a nearby door that led to the ballroom below a sweeping marble staircase.
She marveled at the size of the structure as they walked past and then balked at the ballroom itself.
With black, red, and white marble floors, and ceilings several stories taller than the last, the room could easily fit over two hundred people.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows cast a rainbow of shadows on the guests while chandeliers with rows of cascading crystals reflected the light into hundreds of vibrant prisms around the room.
Large tables stood near the edges with glass plate settings. A string quartet sat at the back of the room playing a beautiful, melancholy melody. Daire guided Tal with a hand on her elbow to a table near the musicians while other guests filtered into the room.
“Where did Sybil run off to?”
“How should I know? You’re welcome to go looking for her.
” Tal could feel the effects of the wine and regretted her impulsive decision to chug the drink.
She sat back in her seat and prayed dinner would be out soon.
A few servants passed with more trays of bite-sized morsels, which she grabbed greedily whenever she could.
Daire attempted to make small talk but gave up when Tal responded through a mouthful of the most delicious meat she’d ever tasted.
The rest of the guests at their table arrived in pairs and gawked at Talwyn with wariness or outright disgust. They whispered behind their hands and stared at her.
At some point, the music stopped, and a herald announced the arrival of King James.
Everyone stood. Daire grabbed Tal by the upper arm and pulled her to stand as well.
They stood too far back for her to see anything, but she expected the king to be just as haughty as the rest of them.
When the food arrived, Talwyn instantly took back every terrible thing she said about the masquerade.
She had never seen so much food, never smelled anything so decadent, nor tasted anything so divine in all her life, and probably never would again.
She devoured every last bite with a vigor that earned her even more stares.
She eyed a long, thick, green fruit on her plate that appeared to have warts.
“What’s this?” She pointed at the object.
“It’s called a pickle,” a gentleman said hesitantly. The woman gripping his arm smacked him and turned her disgust back to Tal.
It smelled of vinegar, and Tal shivered involuntarily.
She gripped the pickle like the handle of one of her daggers, waving it around.
It felt unexpectedly stiff in her hand, and Daire reached to put her arm down.
Tal met his disapproving gaze and bit into the food with a satisfying crunch.
A wave of gasps around the table drowned out the string quartet.
The bitterness made her mouth water, but it didn’t stop her from licking her fingers after the last bite.
Daire once more tried to rein her in by suggesting she use a fork but gave up and slumped in his chair in defeat.
After finishing her plate, Tal downed another glass of wine, feeling refreshed with her full stomach. She stood and stated that she needed to relieve herself. Daire blanched, mortified. He didn’t bother escorting her.
Tal stumbled toward the washroom at the direction of one of the ladies at the table. She bumped into chairs, other guests, and even managed to knock a tray of cheese out of a servant’s hands. She apologized and continued on her way.
She exited the ballroom at one of the back doors that led to a corridor filled with rooms on one side and entrances to a grand balcony on the other.
One of her sleeves caught on a stone statue, and she pulled at the impractical fabric in frustration.
She pushed both sleeves up over her shoulders, gathered her skirts, and stomped down the hall.
With the washroom finally in sight, she cursed at her tulle prison, fully intent on escaping the suffocating ballroom for the rest of the night.