Chapter 5 #2
He holds his hand out for me, and my mind is so distracted that I reach for it without thinking.
Regret hits me like a boulder to the gut as he leads me into the banquet hall. Alarm bells blare in my head, as my intuition tells me we are walking into a trap. The banquet hall becomes a cage, and I am a wild creature itching to escape.
The tables have all been moved to the perimeter, allowing space for dancing in the center of the giant room, but not a soul is watching those on the dance floor.
Instead, their attention burns holes through my veil of conviction.
“Everyone’s staring,” I whisper to Eryk with a frustrated sing-song lilt.
He chuckles softly and leans down. “They’re staring because you are stunning.”
The tips of my ears go hot, and I’m about to refute the statement, but I’m saved by Phillipa as she slides into place before us with two glasses of ale, holding one out for me.
“Finally! I was beginning to think Demitra locked you in your room or something,” she jokes as she cuts between Eryk and me to pull me along toward her table.
I look back in apology to the captain, hoping he can tell I’m sincere. He just waves his hand in understanding.
Damn him. He’s not meant to be growing on me like this.
“So much for ‘I don’t want anyone thinking I slept my way into the guard,’ I guess,” Phil whisper-laughs.
“Shhh! He was only walking me in. He actually saved me from …” I search the room for the rebels. There’s no sign of them.
But Queen Daphne sits like a stoic goddess on a raised platform at the front of the room. She’s flanked by high-ranking members of the court, mostly made up of men. Her servants stand behind the table, bringing them different dishes and filling their cups when they empty.
I imagine running a kingdom is tiring work, but she is bright-eyed and smiling, and the energy moves from her into her subjects. She is a pillar of strength, and I do not know how she has stayed strong for so many years.
Then my eyes land on those molten, ale-colored orbs in the corner of the room, hiding in the shadows with the big male at his side.
Danger ripples from him. His dark expression is etched in the permanent lines on his face, almost as if all he knows is anger and disappointment.
The muscle in his stubble-lined jaw ticks, and I take that as my warning. It’s not safe to talk here, and I don’t really want to pull Phillipa into something that could potentially be deadly. I would never do that to her.
“Saved you from?” she drags out expectantly.
“From walking in all by myself,” I lie. “I was having a hard time working up the courage to come in at all.” I half smile and take a gulp of ale.
Phil shakes her head at me. “Well, in that case, I’m glad. I’ll be sure to reward the captain with some of your time later on, as promised,” she teases.
I nod absently, and have to stop myself from grabbing another glass of ale from a tray as it passes by.
My friend drags me from table to table, making connections everywhere she goes. Not a soul can deny her magnetizing energy, and she eats it up. I am too distracted to entertain conversations, so I just smile and nod as Phillipa mingles.
She’s chatting with a table of soldiers and their dates, their voices fade to the background as I scan the room, on high alert for any possible threat.
The shorter, rosy-cheeked male from the breezeway catches my eye. He has three empty tankards before him on a table, and another half-full in his hand.
He’s leaning forward, telling a story to the small crowd gathered around his table. I think I pick up the words “bitch” and “queen” as he mouths off, clearly worked up about something.
It dawns on me that he may be digging his own grave with every word out of his mouth. I need to find an excuse to get closer to him and confirm that he’s talking about murdering the queen. That he’s a rebel.
The table he’s at is directly across the dance floor from where I stand behind Phillipa like a shadow. It’s going to take us far too long to get through the rest of her social obligations before we reach that spot.
I search my mind for an excuse to light a fire under Phil, and turn over my shoulder to ensure the other two rebels are still where I saw them last. My heart races when I discover they are not. Fuck.
One thing at a time, Arina. Think.
When I snap my head back to look at the loose-lipped male, I curse at the gods for the only option they seem to have deemed me worthy of.
Eryk is sitting near the table I need to reach. I don’t think my plan all the way through, and my hand reaches out to squeeze Phil’s shoulder.
“What?” she sounds a little annoyed with me, and the couples she’s speaking with share her displeased demeanor.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow you.” I tilt my head and make a thin line with my lips, hoping she catches on.
“Oh? Ohhh!” She follows my eyes, and puts things together quickly. Thank the gods for best friends who don’t need words to communicate.
Phil apologizes to her friends and reassures them that she’ll find them again soon. Then her full focus is on me, and I have to think fast while we walk closer to Eryk’s table.
“I’m so proud of you. Kind of surprised, but proud. I had thought you’d find every excuse you could think of not to dance with anyone tonight. Particularly not Eryk,” she teases, poking me in the ribs.
I swat her hand away. We are three tables from the rebel and his big mouth. “It’s just me keeping my promise,” I lie.
“Right.” Phil knows me so much better than that and rolls her eyes impishly.
I stop her, strategically placing her between myself and what I’m assuming is an entire table of rebels. We’re far enough away that it seems like a natural place for us to be, and there are people moving between us and the table.
I smooth out my dress, playing with the lace details. Then I gesture for her to help me with my hair. The red-cheeked rebel is shoving food in his face and grumbling loudly, airing out his grievances without even stopping to swallow.
“I say we be done with it! Old Queeny has had plenty of time to do somethin’ to help the land, and what has she done? Jack shit, that’s what.”
Phil waves her hand in front of my face. “Hello? Are you in there?”
“And what’re you going to do about it?” one of the males asks, egging him on.
I hold on tight to both Phil’s shoulders, and try to speak and listen at the same time.
“Yes, I’m just …” I start.
“I’m going to slit her throat, is what.” He looks so fucking proud of himself as he rips a bite of chicken from the bone.
It’s sickening how he’s being allowed to benefit from Queen Daphne’s generosity.
Chicken is a rarity, and she willingly shares it with us tonight.
I want to shove that fucking bone down his throat.
Why isn’t anyone stopping him? I glance around, trying to gauge whether any of the soldiers have overheard him, but none of them seem to have noticed.
“You’re just what?” Phil asks, equally oblivious to the traitors sitting among us. “Why are you acting so weird?”
“Nothing. I swear. I think maybe I’m a little nervous to dance with Eryk. It’s been a really long time, and I am worried I’ll make an ass of myself.” It’s not a lie, not really.
Phil grins, the glint in her eyes is contagious, and I smile sheepishly back at her. “Maybe we could just sneak out? Do you think I could get away with leaving early?”
“Dressed like that? Not a chance.”