Chapter 10
Roderick Bryson
Roderick thought things couldn’t get more uncomfortable than the Council session had been.
And then they did.
He was now seated across from the Princess.
With the King and Queen.
At the dinner table.
The dining room was a surprisingly homey space compared to the rest of the pompous palace, with a low, gilded ceiling and long mahogany table spread with a violet runner and a vase of white lilies.
A simple chandelier held mage lights that seemed to bring the sun indoors, including its warmth.
An expanse of diamond-paned windows faced the sea.
A salty sea breeze filled the room, accompanied by the calls of seabirds.
He wore a cream collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a sapphire cravat, and a dark gray vest with gray trousers to match. While he hadn’t thought to bring extra copies of Eldenkeep’s reports, he did always travel with a spare change of clothing suitable for regal occasions.
He chuckled to himself. And she thought me undiplomatic.
Admittedly, he did have most undiplomatic thoughts during the Council session.
The way Anya tapped her claws on the table beckoned memories of the previous night: the mystery maiden’s melodious, howling laugh, her soft lips, and best of all, the pearly smile that lit up her face as she wiggled her bare toes in the blanket of clover.
And when Anya tangled her fingers in the necklace that rested on her chest? Well, he was plenty punished for where that drew his eye. Her sleek, starlight gown threw him headfirst into the spell-binding sensation of dancing with the wolf-masked woman.
Why had she run? Did all of Eteross hear of his humiliation aboard the Lupus Star?
His gaze flicked to Anya, who was sipping from a goblet of mead with an elegant air.
It was possible she had gleefully spread word of his perceived impropriety.
Why couldn’t she have taken his offer to court her as a compliment and politely declined? She needn’t have made such a spectacle.
Why did Millicent flee from the safety of your arms?
Why did your precious mystery maiden run into the night?
You know the answer.
“Lord Bryson?”
“Hm?” He swiveled his head and blinked.
“What are your thoughts on that?” the Queen asked.
Oh Divine, she asked me a question. He popped his knuckles absentmindedly. He was normally far more attentive than this.
“I should like to hear Her Highness’s thoughts first.”
He grinned to himself and loosened his cravat. That was a good save. Confidence restored, he took a sip of mead, relishing the taste of wit and berries.
“You want my thoughts on which of your knights should accompany us?” Anya raised a brow.
Roderick choked on the swallow and coughed. Of all the questions it could have been. His mind darted around for a branch of rationale to grasp. “I-I just mean you got to know a few of them during the evacuation. I want you to feel confident in my selection.” He tried not to sputter the words.
“Are not all your knights competent with a sword?”
He gaped his mouth to fire back, but was mercifully saved by servants scurrying in.
They set silver plates before each of them: quail stuffed with currants and barley, scalloped potatoes with garlic and fennel, snap peas, and steaming rolls with honeyed butter.
For the first time in weeks, he did not feel dragged along in a rut, appetite long behind him.
If Anya wanted to spar with tongues, he needed energy. He needed to focus. Dishware clinked as the servants were dismissed and everyone began to eat.
“I know their abilities are unmatched, except by myself. But if there are particular knights or dames in my command that you favor, I shall ensure they accompany us.” He straightened his shoulders and took a polite bite of quail.
Anya swallowed and answered immediately. “I am quite fond of Sir Oshfeldt and Dame Fletcher, and they get on well with my lady-in-waiting.”
“That is all well and good, Your Highness, but irrelevant, as your lady-in-waiting will not accompany us this time. She is far too fragile for a journey like this.”
Anya glowered at him. “Lady Rowan acts as my scribe. We need to chart our way to the north so we can find our way back. Only she understands my astronomical dictation. Not that you would know. You weren’t the one on deck in the middle of the night last time, keeping us on course.
” She wiped a tinge of currant juice from her lips with a white cloth napkin, and the response forming in his mind went right with it.
“Anya,” the King’s voice knocked Roderick’s brain back into action, “not everyone is a creature of the night like yourself.” He chuckled softly.
There was little regale to his tone, unlike before the Council.
It was endearing to see a softer side to their kingdom’s figurehead.
Roderick should have guessed that, of course.
Adrian Delemond wasn’t just a king. He had married into the royal family.
He had been someone’s son, then a stone mason, and now a king and a father.
Roderick aimed a fanged smile at Anya. It had always seemed to throw her off kilter aboard the Lupus Star. It was fair fire now. “If it pleases Her Highness, I will enlist Sir Oshfeldt and Dame Fletcher. Sir Oshfeldt accompanied me here today, and I will send a hawk to Dame Fletcher.”
Predictably, Anya’s cheeks reddened as her eyes darted to his fangs.
She seemed to find the display brazen, unbecoming.
But it was normal for a Centarian to have their fangs out.
Or at least, it used to be. She should know that, having caught her poring over the anatomical texts and tomes that were once restricted to the Priestess Supreme’s eyes only.
Or perhaps she had read of the pleasure the giver and receiver experienced during the exchange of blood, and seeing his fangs beckoned the thought.
He scoffed to himself. No. Of course not. She surely thinks me ill-mannered. The tinge on her cheeks must be the rouge of rage.
The Queen chuckled and leaned toward him. “When Anya was little, we were constantly up in the middle of the night trying to find where she’d wandered.”
“Mother…” Anya rolled her eyes.
“It’s true.”
It seemed a meal was all it took to soften everyone’s regal temperament. They were joking and eating not with royal aplomb, but rather like two parents meeting their daughter’s friend for the first time.
He had, at one time, wished to be more than that. He had considered Anya a friend. But they were far from that now. He probably had no business calling her by name even during their upcoming expedition, but if it needled her, all the better.
He wanted to be in her thoughts, one way or another. Good or bad. He didn’t understand it, but just knowing he was on her mind from time to time filled him with satisfaction.
“Back to business,” the King started. “Is there a particular ship and crew you want for this voyage?”
“The Lupus Star,” Roderick and Anya said in unison. Roderick flinched. He would have preferred to disagree with Anya, but the expedition needed the best, and the crew of the Lupus Star was next to none. They both knew that.
“Finally, something you two agree on.” The King smiled almost knowingly, then took a bite of a roll.
The Queen continued the thought. “We will find out where they are and arrange for them to meet you at the port of Little Wing.”
“How did you get here, Lord Bryson? I would have thought you sailed here on the Lupus Star.” Anya punctuated the words with a sip of mead.
“We flew,” he answered curtly.
“You…flew?”
“Yes.” He took a bite of potatoes and chewed on the silence that followed. But the awkwardness he made Anya feast on made it taste all the better.
“How…efficient.” Anya filled the quiet with a bite of quail.
“Yes.”
Silverware clinked as they stared each other down.
The Queen cleared her throat. “Lord Bryson, please elaborate.”
Damn. He’d been so focused on being curt with Anya he hadn’t considered the optics of his behavior to the King and Queen.
“We flew on Yomira the wyvern. You have met her. Although, not under pleasant circumstances. She is waiting for us behind the arena.”
“Oh!” The Queen straightened. “We have been most rude hosts.” She called for a servant. A Lycanian kitchen hand stepped through the door in an instant.
“Oh, Rupert! Perfect timing. We have a wyvern guest, Yomira. She is staying behind the arena. Kindly make her comfortable at the royal stables. Bring her whatever she wishes for a meal.”
The servant’s nervous canine eyes darted between Anya and the Queen. “How do I do that?”
Roderick set down his fork and knife with a clink. “Allow me to accompany you. I can speak with her and fly her over here. You will be perfectly safe with me.”
The servant’s eyes and shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Lord Bryson, would you ask Yomira if she would mind flying the four of you to Balcott?” the King asked.
Anya nearly spat out her mead but saved it with an audible swallow. “You want me to fly on a wyvern?!”
“Balcott?” Roderick tensed. His palms began to sweat. “Why?”
“It would be prudent for both of you to see the epidemic firsthand. We also want to show the residents of Balcott that we are taking this seriously. A visit from the both of you may help.”
A knot formed in Roderick’s throat. Many of the Centarians despised Anya, and told him as much. But the children seemed to adore her, untainted by their parents’ understandable, but negative, opinion. And they were the ones that were ill. If it would lift their spirits, he would make it happen.
Even if it meant seeing Millicent again.