Chapter 16 #4
The rest of the meal proceeded as amicably as possible. I knew my role, choosing to stay mostly silent and observe as Bellamy and Soren kept the conversation polite yet flowing. Caspian, for all his youth, was clearly similarly trained in political charm, matching them beat for beat.
Everyone else jumped in where appropriate, with Freya surprisingly taking on a fair bit of the conversation.
“Which of you have been stationed here the longest?” Caspian had asked casually, his tone hardly reflecting the fact he was discovering who had been fighting a war against his people for the highest number of years. Probably cooking up some sentencing judgment based on the time we’d been here.
“That would be me,” Freya volunteered, speaking in her same soft cadence. Not that I expected any different from her.
Caspian took his sweet time looking at her before responding. Long enough that Arthur got around to clearing his throat. The Prince simply laughed, nodding once at Arthur in deference. “And how long would that be? You are quite young.”
Freya nodded, her smile slight. “Yes. It’s been fifteen years.”
The tension at the table swelled even further, pulling so tight I was sure the lights would begin flickering. “You…” Caspian began, then started again, “You must be very special.”
Freya, to her credit, kept her smile firmly in place as she said, “I was lucky and found a Match early on.”
“I understand that you must have your Mark exposed by a priestess,” Elijah said, speaking directly to Freya. There was something brutal in the way he was holding his body. “Why were you tested in the first place?”
A fair question, considering Freya would have been all of twelve. “I lived in an orphanage. They figured young, resilient bodies were the best to test the procedure on first.”
An awful story and one that held some truthfulness, as the Empire did tend to prey on teenagers for special enlistment.
No less awful than the truth, that Freya had been isolated since birth in a temple, born with those jet black markings, and was tossed over the Bridge after little more than an impassioned theory from a priestess.
Elijah’s next words barely made it past his clenched jaw. “Should we be gleaning something from your society based on their treatment of the young?”
Probably, was the honest answer. People got desperate when they were scared and poor choices were made. I was sure that Muli either had already done or would have done the same.
I was saved from having to regale that defense by Caspian, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. Our own history is dotted with some less than ideal decisions. Just saw you’re sorry she went through that and move on.”
A rare spot of wisdom from the young Prince. Ford squeezed my knee, communicating the same.
“I’m sorry you went through that,” Elijah repeated, eyes on his plate.
“Thank you,” Freya said brightly, making Elijah’s attention shoot back up to her and hold for a rather pregnant pause.
Elijah seemed like the type who prided himself on being able to see right through people, use their own insecurities and poorly disguised motivations against them.
Freya, on the other hand, was equal parts wide-open and tightly-sealed. Some might thing her bright-eyed enthusiasm was a front, that it was meant to disarm you and think her safe.
Depending on who you asked, it might actually be a little scarier to learn that it was entirely honest. She’d been dealt a shit lot in life, had continued to be dealt an unfair hand, and yet she was able to find genuine happiness.
Most of the time, she’d always clarified. Though, I’d never really seen it first hand.
The type of mental fortitude it took to choose a sunny disposition with all she’d been through was simply impressive.
I could tell Elijah couldn’t quite figure her out, which made me nervous. There were a lot of people out there—men in particular—who were entranced by a mystery.
Only around enough to crack the code, then onto the next shiny thing.
I didn’t want Elijah anywhere near her, a sisterly protectiveness swelling in my chest.
For the rest of the meal, I kept a rather close eye on them. Something that was not lost on Ford, who kept his hand planted on my thigh, swiping his thumb across the sensitive skin on the inside every time my attention strayed over.
I had half the mind to bat his hand away and tell him to go find a hole to crawl in, but…
It just felt really nice. And damnit, I deserved one moment of comfort.
As dinner wound down, topped off with a rich chocolate dessert that had a note of something unique in it—enough that I asked Caspian about it, to which he responded something vague and teasing about Muli not revealing all her secrets too soon—conversation turned back to planning.
It was Bellamy who did so, and only people who new her intimately could tell that she did so out of nervousness. She was eager to get things resolved.
Very begrudgingly, after I’d asked her what was wrong several times, she’d admitted that her father’s instructions to get a peace treaty negotiated had been accompanied by an explicit threat against Soren’s family.
“Don’t you think it’s a little late?” Caspian said, brushing off Bellamy’s attempt at seriousness. “We have so much time to discuss all this boring nonsense. Let’s have a little fun! You lot do drink, don’t you?”
“Is he even old enough to?” Ford asked under his breath, catching me so off guard, I snorted a laugh.
“Something funny?” Caspian asked, seeming genuinely interested.
“At what age can you drink on Muli?” Ford asked, doubling down. Thank God I’d brought a hand to my mouth to catch my remaining laugh or else I’d have nothing to hide my smile.
Caspian looked rather impressed actually. “Eighteen, though most people do so earlier. As I’m sure is the same on Virterra. And, to answer your real question, I have nineteen long years behind me.”
“Alright,” Ford nodded, keeping the smile off his face, but not quite managing to keep it out of his eyes. “I’m a fan of your whiskey.”