Chapter 8 #3
“A mother might also tell you not to play with your food,” she says sweetly. “So fuck him already or leave him be. Either way, you’re boring me.”
A bark of laughter escapes me before I can stop it, and Reon, seated to my right, chokes down his own with a cough. Zyphoro’s glare cuts through both of us, silencing the table.
Only Orios seems unfazed, gnawing contentedly at the charred remains of whatever creature died for our supper.
Zyphoro’s attention shifts. She leans across the table and pushes Tamis aside with the casual cruelty of someone bored with a toy.
“You dare speak to me like that?” she hisses.
Solena doesn’t flinch. She sighs, long and tired, like she’s had this argument before in another lifetime. “I’d rather not speak to you at all. So why don’t you take your pet and leave the rest of us in peace?”
I watch them in silence, one corner of my mouth curling. You’d think after months trapped together on that damned ship, they’d have grown tired of sparring. But no. If anything, they’ve turned it into a sport. Neither willing to yield. Neither knowing how.
At least it makes for good entertainment.
Where I expect my sister to snap, to bare her fangs and rip into Solena with the fury she’s known for, Zyphoro does something far more dangerous. She smiles. The kind of smile that never ends well for anyone.
I know it too. It’s the same one I wear when I’ve found a game worth playing. The kind that Amara drew from my lips when she would do her best to resist me, even though I could smell her need clinging to her skin like perfume.
“Jealous, maid?” Zyphoro purrs. Her eyes flick to Orios. “Is someone not scratching your itch?”
Orios looks up from the slab of meat in his hands, brows raised.
Solena stiffens. “That’s none of your business.”
“Oh dear. Just as I thought,” Zyphoro sighs. “The only thing worse than not getting enough… is getting none at all.”
Reon lifts an eyebrow. “Surely you two have fucked.”
I lift my cup. “I’d wager they have.”
Zyphoro shrugs one delicate shoulder. “It’s a small ship and I haven’t heard so much as a swallow from your cabin.” She leans forward. “And trust me, I’ve been listening.”
Solena shoots her a look like she’s about to throw a knife, or a plate, or both. “You’re vile.”
Zyphoro feigns offense. “Where else would I look for fun? The Mordorin don’t dabble in incest like some other Fae houses and I’d rather carve out my own heart than let the ginger lay a single finger on me.”
Reon snorts. “What the fuck?”
Zyphoro laces her fingers under her chin innocently. “Which leaves you and the boulder as my only options for… release.”
The meat slips from Orios’ fingers and hits the table with a wet thud, his mouth agape.
Solena’s hand flies to his back, smacking him once before shoving him so hard he jolts in his seat and wipes his mouth on his sleeve.
Zyphoro giggles. “Maybe I’m not the only one who’s considered it.”
Solena’s voice drops an octave. “You think too much of yourself.”
“Perhaps.” Zyphoro’s smile never wavers. “But when you decide to prove me wrong, I’ll be right outside your door.”
Solena bolts to her feet. Her hand closes around Orios’ forearm, and that alone is enough to haul the brute to standing. Zyphoro rolls her eyes.
“So dramatic.”
“We’re going to bed,” Solena says flatly. “As should you all. We are here for a purpose? Remember?”
I nod at her scolding. How could I forget? But there’s a strange comfort in knowing I’m not the only one, like we’re both limping from the same wound.
“Sweet dreams,” Zyphoro sings after them, though neither looks back as they disappear up the stairs.
I lean back in my chair, swirling the wine in my cup. “I thought you two would’ve found common ground by now.”
Zyphoro grins, unapologetic. “Where’s the fun in that?”
She rises suddenly, stretching her arms like a cat waking from a nap. She casts a glance at Tamis, who’s still seated, paralyzed with uncertainty.
“But the maid does have a point,” she murmurs. “I’m done playing with my food.”
She strides toward the stairs, hips swaying with purpose. Halfway up, she pauses, glancing behind her with a theatrical sigh.
“Well? Move your ass.”
Tamis scrambles after her, his face pale and lips bitten red.
“Poor bastard,” Reon mutters, reaching for the wine and refilling his cup. “Let’s pray the gods fancy him enough not to get fucked to death. We still need him.”
I laugh under my breath. “Just the two of us, then.”
Reon lifts his cup toward mine. “And you made it very clear today that I’m not your type. Seems you and your sister have that in common.”
I nod, and whether it’s the wine or the company, the tight coil in my chest loosens for the first time in weeks.
“Don’t take it personally, Reon,” I murmur. “My miserable heart only beats for one.”
Quiet settles between us as we sip our drinks. Then thump…thump…thump. A slow, rhythmic pounding echoes from the ceiling above, followed by a soft drift of dust sifting down from the rafters. We glance up together, then back at each other with matching frowns.
Reon adjusts the front of his leathers with a grimace. “Might have to pay a visit to the Red Room before the night’s through.”
I chuckle into my cup, the sound low and tired. But even that small warmth can't quiet the ache that lingers beneath my skin. The longing for the only touch I’ve ever truly craved… and the quiet fear that I may never feel it again.