Chapter 15 #2
“Thank the gods we’re together this evening,” Vesper sighed, as we settled ourselves in our seats. “These feasts can be an awful bore.”
“How do you fare?” I asked. “I’m sorry I haven’t had much time to see you. Things have been busy.”
She grinned. “No hard feelings. Time means very little to a vampire. We’ll have plenty of opportunity.”
I gratefully accepted a flute of sparkling wine from a passing waiter. “Fantastic vintage,” Vesper informed me. “Imported from across the Great Sea.”
I sipped my drink, relishing the fizz of the bubbles as they danced along my tongue.
The table was lively with conversation as the usual gaggle of noblemen and noble ladies gorged themselves on food and drink.
The waiters presented a whole-roasted lamb to their audience, who practically squealed with delight at the sight of it.
My mouth watered as they carved the succulent meat off the bone and onto silver platters.
I overheard Mordric boasting loudly from the head of the table about the progress I’d made recently.
I held my breath as he regaled his advisers, expecting Enhart to jump in at any moment to contradict him.
Thankfully, the prince was otherwise occupied with Genevieve, who was practically falling into his lap.
She burst into a fit of giggles at something he said and my eyes narrowed as her hand crawled up his arm like a spider.
“No one could possibly think he was that funny,” I muttered.
“Who?” said Vesper, her brows knitting together in confusion.
Flushing, I replied in a measured tone, “Prince Enhart. That woman is losing her mind at everything she says. It’s not as if he needs anyone to help inflate his ego.”
“Ah, you mean Genevieve.”
I took a long swig from my third glass of wine, my eyes trained on the redheaded vampiress. “You know her?”
“Of course. Her father is a fabulously wealthy arms trader. They reside on an estate on the Sunken Coast, so she must be cutting her teeth this season.”
“Cutting her teeth?”
“Think of it as an introduction to court. A highborn vampire or vampiress of a certain age—typically around two hundred years old—comes to Valnar to attend balls and feasts and attract suitors. Humans do the same around twenty-five years of age, although they call it a debut.”
“I see.”
“Have you met?”
I shrugged. “She was waiting for Enhart after one of our sessions a few nights ago. Are they …” I trailed off.
“Are they fucking?” Vesper finished for me, noticeably unfazed. “Probably, but Enhart fucks everyone so it’s not really news.”
“Everyone?” I glanced at her sideways.
She giggled. “Just an expression, my dear.”
I nodded slowly, stealing another look at the prince.
“Why are you asking me this, anyway?” she asked. “If the King is not meeting your needs—”
I held up my hand. “That’s quite enough, thank you.”
“Just teasing,” she giggled, popping a gooseberry between her lips.
My ears are burning, came a familiar voice inside my head, causing me to smack my knee into the underside of the table. I swore, startling the countess sitting opposite me. She turned her nose up, glaring at me. Enhart’s laughter echoed in my ears. You can take the girl out of the Outlands …
I glanced in the direction of the prince, who appeared to be listening intently to a conversation between Genevieve and Lady Greenwood, the Keeper of the Royal Purse. He leaned back in his seat, running his thumb along the curve of his chin. Aren’t you in the middle of a conversation? I replied.
Aren’t you?
I scowled. It’s hard to focus on when all I can hear is that girl’s squealing.
Trust me, she’s loud at all the right moments. He grinned widely before taking a swig from his goblet.
I thought you hated these banquets, I thought menacingly.
Does it look like I’m enjoying myself?
Laughter swelled at my end of the table, but I was transfixed.
The prince was draped across his chair like he’d never been more at ease.
My attention flicked to the redheaded vampiress as I wrung my napkin like a rooster’s neck beneath the table.
The desire she felt for Enhart crawled over my skin like a rash.
Her fingers curled so tightly around the prince’s bicep that I thought she might simply float away if she released him. I wished she would.
Resentment pulsed beneath my skin like poison.
I hated how easy it was to dislike her. I wasn’t sure why I did.
Without thinking, I unleashed the tendrils of my will into her mind.
It wasn’t difficult, I found, smirking when I didn’t come up against any resistance.
Rooting into her memories, I caught glimpses of noble folk spinning around a ballroom in all their finery, the eerie darkness of the Sunken Coast at night, and a long, rocky journey on the ship to Valnar, but this wasn’t what I was looking for.
I dug deeper, bitterness growing with every new memory.
From what I could see, Genevieve had never had to work a single day of her life.
Meanwhile, there were still scars on my hands from handling hot irons, and my back might always pain me first thing in the morning from all the hours I had spent on my knees in filth, scrubbing the floor with a rag.
Envy burned within me untamed, the flames so hot that I was certain my skin would start smoking.
I sucked in a breath as Enhart’s face came into sight. He stood in a deserted corridor dressed in the same midnight-blue waistcoat he wore tonight. Irritation was written plainly across his face, his sharp features gilded by the light of the paper lanterns hanging overhead.
“You spend all your time with that wretched human,” whined Genevieve, the sound of her voice like nails scraping against millstone.
“I’m fulfilling a duty to the King,” replied Enhart cooly. “As I have told you a hundred times over.”
I smirked as her hiss of frustration filled my ears. “Well, my father—”
“Your father is not here, so I suggest you rethink whatever poorly articulated threat you were about to issue,” he snapped. “I would also remind you that I hold no commitment to you, or anyone for that matter, apart from my brother.”
Genevieve sidled up to him, tracing her crimson-painted nails along his outstretched arm. They were filed into claw-like points. “I know that, but I can’t help it. I hate seeing you with anyone else.”
He snorted. “You should be used to it by now.”
Her lips peeled back, revealing the sharp points of her fangs.
“Listen to me closely,” Enhart continued. “The Outlander is nothing but a duty to me. A nuisance. A pain. Believe me, I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”
Any semblance of satisfaction I’d gained from entering her mind vanished.
The tendrils of my will curled inward like the limbs of a wounded beast as I slipped from her mind.
Genevieve’s laughter stung my ears once more, her claws sliding down the prince’s shoulder.
His eyes flicked toward me, a crease between his brows.
Ignoring the lump that had formed in my throat, I stood, garnering a surprised look from Vesper as I excused myself from the table.
I stalked off to the nearest powder room and slammed the door in my wake, rattling the gilded mirror from which my bewildered expression stared back at me.
The crystal vials of soaps and perfumes that dotted the marble counter shuddered as my temper flared.
I swayed slightly, the wine fizzing inside my skull.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked aloud.
It shouldn’t matter what Enhart thought of me—or what Genevieve thought, for that matter.
I knew what our arrangement was, and I’d spent the last two months complaining about him every chance I got. Not like that, I thought.
Allowing a trickle of magic to flow to my fingertips, I coaxed water out of the pitcher beside the washbasin and ran it through my outstretched fingers, steadying my breathing.
I forced myself to remember why I was here.
To serve the realm, just like Enhart. To earn a seat at the table next to the man who actually cared for me.
To escape a life of servitude, and to assume a new rank based on my own merit.
What the prince thought about me personally shouldn’t matter.
In fact, it shouldn’t even bother me. It wasn’t like we were friends. Or even that I enjoyed his company.
Nothing but a duty.
The water hit the washbasin with a splat. I scrubbed my wet hands down my gown. Resolving to ignore him and his precious Genevieve for the rest of the night, I opened the door to find myself staring into the dull brown eyes of the vampiress herself. I inhaled sharply, taking a step backward.
“Lynn, right?” she asked, squeezing in beside me. She set about primping herself in the mirror, repositioning her bodice to emphasize her ample bosom. “Prince Enhart’s told me a bit about you.”
“My name is Finn,” I replied, bristling. Remaining here was probably a mistake, and yet I was rooted to the spot.
She giggled, flashing her fangs. “Oops. I just think it’s so sweet that he’s taking the time to teach you,” she said. “Especially since it seems like it’s not an easy task. My Enny certainly loves to complain.”
I choked down a violent urge to slap her, or perhaps to set her precious red hair on fire.
Especially since, after what I’d witnessed in her memories, I knew she was speaking the truth.
Releasing the breath I was holding, I reminded myself that I was surrounded by nobles and attacking one of their own would be viewed as somewhat unseemly, or so I assumed.
“Enny and I are surviving,” I said through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t realize he allowed you to call him by his given name,” she replied. “How informal.”
“I don’t …” I trailed off. It was pointless to argue with her. “Never mind.”
“Anyway, you must be so busy with the King,” she said, pinching her cheeks so that color rose to the surface of her ivory skin. “He speaks very highly of you.”