CHAPTER 13 #4
I feel my cheeks flush. She isn’t shocked when it is obvious I’ve never seen an orphanage in my life, she must know that we have no such thing in La’tari.
Not that our parentless children lack choices.
They are always welcome to join the military.
There they receive three meals a day, a roof, and a uniform, just as I had been given when Leanna found me.
The mixture of both feyn and human children playing with one another twists my stomach. What will happen to the humans when another war erupts between the continents? A war I am likely to start. Will they raise them to fight their own kind or simply slaughter them?
I force a smile at Awri and begin toward the carriage.
Every day I spend with this female produces a hundred irritating questions I lack answers for.
The general opens the door of the carriage, and I step inside.
Awri stops just outside, snatching a heavy sack of coins off the bench and turning back toward the orphanage.
“I almost forgot. I’ll be right back,” she says, closing the door behind her and striking up a conversation with Lias after she hands him the coin.
I settle back against the wall of the carriage and stiffen when I find the general pinning me with a stare.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“About what?”
“About the orphanage.”
Again, my cheeks begin to heat. “It’s charming.”
“You think it a novel idea to feed and clothe helpless children?”
I can’t help but glare at the male. “I think you’ve never traveled to La’tari if you believe it has the resources to feed and clothe every child orphaned by the rippling impact of the war.”
I want to suggest that his king send supplies for the human children in La’tari but I won’t gain any favors implying that his king hoards resources.
“It certainly has enough resources to feed its ever-growing military,” he says flatly.
“And the military is always an option for any of the parentless children on our shores. They don’t turn anyone away,” I say.
He sneers, “Such a small price to pay not to be left to die of starvation. Groomed as a child into a life of indentured servitude to the crown.”
I laugh at him then. “You would lecture me about grooming children when I’ve just seen those boys handed play swords sent to them by their king?”
Hypocrite.
“How can you justify the same actions you condemn?” I say heatedly.
His eyes widen and he clenches his jaw, as he growls, “It is not the same thing.”
“Because it is your king that does it?”
“Because we make no demands on any child in exchange for safety, the promise of a warm bed, and food. Things that every child should have, no matter what they were born as, or what they choose to be when they grow older.”
I open my mouth to argue then snap it closed when I find that there is no argument to be had. I don’t disagree, and if I had the ability to feed every starving child by simply wishing it, I would have no requirements set upon them in exchange.
“Where exactly in La’tari are you from?” He glares down at me. “It’s obvious you’ve lived a life far removed from the lower class.”
His words are sharp as daggers as he continues, “How easy it must be to settle that pretty head down upon a silken pillow and fall asleep in the safety of your high tower and not give a single hisht about the suffering of those unfortunate enough to have been born outside your class.”
I imagine crushing his windpipe with a single well-placed jab and my neck tingles as all the blood in my body rushes to my face.
He has no idea what kind of life I’ve lived or what I’ve seen.
Yet the venom of his words burns in my veins as if every word were true, because this, this is how he sees me. This is why he hates me.
I should be flattered that he’s bought so thoroughly into my guise, stars know I haven’t given the male much reason to think I’m a lady.
I cool my temper, pressing my back against the wall of the carriage, willing the tension out of my body.
It’s a monumental effort to stifle the rage he riles within me, to calm the coiled demon that demands to be set loose upon him.
But I can use this. I latch on to all his assumptions and let them pour into me, refining the mask of the lady, and I slip it on.
As my features turn placid, his own slip, but only for a moment. The anger and assumption flickering to confusion before he regains his composure.
“You’re right,” I say, “I don’t have much experience with those born less fortunate. The orphanage is a good idea, and I can honestly say I wish this wasn’t the first I’d ever seen.”
I hate every silken word as it slides off my tongue. I actually agree with most of it. It’s the lie, tangled in an unfortunate web of truths that I despise. I don’t have experience with those born less fortunate.
All I have is experience with those born less fortunate, and if anyone here is accustomed to laying their head on a silken pillow at night, it is surely him.
The air rushes out of the carriage when Awri swings open the door.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she says.
Though a taut thread of tension remains between us, if Awri notices, she doesn’t say anything.
It’s late afternoon by the time I’m ushered out in front of the manor and sent off with a promise that a carriage will be waiting for me in the morning. I watch the carriage cross the avenue, heading toward the palace grounds.
Aside from Awri’s remarks that the orphanage was most grateful for the coin left by the king, it was a silent journey home. I can’t tell if I’m relieved that he had nothing more to say or annoyed that he never acknowledged my declaration that he was right. Maybe it’s a bit of both.