Aurora scoffs, wiping the pig fat dripping down her chin with the back of her hand. “Lena wouldn't think so.”
At the mention of Lena, I shoot a glare at Aurora and she winces, an apologetic smile creeping up her cheeks. Neither one of us has mentioned to the other our involvement with Lena’s stunt earlier in the day, or what repercussions would be enacted with so many witnesses. But neither did either of us need to be told that Adelphia wouldn't react well to her children openly defending the foreigner. Of course, I didn’t expect Adelphia to forget, but I also didn't expect Aurora to draw attention to it. My gaze veers to our mother, hopeful she misheard Aurora's slip of the tongue. But judging off her puckered lips and sharpened cheeks, it’s apparent that the name didn't escape her notice.
“Lena,” Adelphia drawls. “Dalenna Nectallius.” Swirling her glass of wine, she leans back in her seat. “I see you two have been making new friends.”
We say nothing.
“Who is she?”
“I’m not sure,” I reply on a swallow, the once palatable bread sticking on its path down my throat. “She only just arrived yesterday.”
Adelphia hums, cradling her glass with both hands as she peers out the window. “Her markings are familiar,” she mumbles to herself, her brows pinched. “But I can't seem to remember where I’ve seen them before.”
“I thought they were scars.” They’re perfectly formed, the shape of them precise, unlike scars, but I’ve never come across any markings like hers. Fae and immortals have jewels. The Gods Cursed’s are filled with ruby flecked shadows. Even the gods are marked by jewels, not circular shaped markings dotting their skin. Scars are the only plausible explanation.
“No, they're markings,” Adelphia says. “I'm sure of it.” Brows smoothing over, she lifts her fork and resumes eating. “I want you to find out everything you can about her.” Taking another bite, she narrows her gaze on me, assessing me clinically as she slips the fork from between her lips. “She is unusually beautiful, so that shouldn’t be too difficult a task,” she says, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
My hand clenches around the knife, the silver bowing beneath my grip as an insidious feeling slithers within my veins. “I’m not a whore,” I snarl as I drop the knife on my plate, hardly hearing the silver clink against porcelain as I hold my mother’s gaze.
Adelphia rolls her eyes. “Those who serve their kingdom are always whores, one way or another. Whether that's by spreading their legs or by killing foolishly vocal women. No matter how unsavory we might find either act to be.”
“Don't lie, Mother,” I snap, shoving my uneaten plate of food away. “Like you actually give a fuck whether you kill a human.”
“Of course I don't. But I also won’t be the one performing the task.” Adelphia points her fork at me. “As Captain of the Guard, that will be your responsibility if she causes any more trouble.” She lifts the glass towards Aurora and tinks the crystal with her nail, a silent order for Aurora to pour her another glass. “You will keep an eye on her, Captain. That’s an order.”
The very idea of whoring myself to another, even someone as alluring as Lena, has my stomach roiling, acid eating at the lining of my gut. If it was any other time and I didn’t currently need my mother’s cooperation, I’d tell her to fuck off. But since my loyalty is to my kingdom and my kingdom alone, I ignore Aurora’s disapproving glare and reluctantly jerk a nod, knowing that it’s even more unlikely for my mother to grant me any favors if I argue with her.
“Mother, there was an incident today,” I say. “The patrolling guards found claw marks on the east gate as well as the wall beside it. They appear to be from the Soulless.” Adelphia stills, but I continue without pause. “I'd like to send a missive to the other kingdoms and request their reconsideration on the expedition.”
“No.” Adelphia's jewels illuminate as frost begins to coat the glass clenched within her hand.
“They said they needed more information before sending out-”
“This is not enough information,” she interrupts icily.
“It's more than enough,” I argue. “They’re attempting to breach the city and would in no way have the mental faculties to do such a thing without being commanded by the Gods Cursed. If we could just–”
“No!” my mother commands sharply. Setting the glass down, she waves her glittering teal palm over the glass and the frost disappears, the frozen wine becoming liquid once more. “You will keep an eye on the situation and double patrols, but nothing more.”
Fuming, I slouch in my chair, in no way hiding my loathing of her within this moment.
Adelphia cocks her head to the side, considering me thoughtfully. “Have you not thought how coincidental it is that your new friend has arrived just as the Soulless have started acting strangely?”
I rub my temples, wanting nothing more than to walk out the door and escape her condescending tone. “She’s not a Gods Cursed.”
“That may be so, but that doesn't mean she doesn't serve them in some capacity. It's interesting how on her first night here, she was able to befriend not only the Captain of the Guard, but the Princess, as well. I find that very suspicious, as I’m sure you do, too.” She pushes her plate forward and sets her elbows on the table, placing her clasped hands beneath her chin. “You are to keep an eye on that girl and report anything of note. Who knows? She may very well be the evidence you've been searching for.”
Chapter 13Lena
“Where's my foooood?” Amara whines, sprawled out in her chair. “I'm starving.”
Feeling the hollowness of my own stomach, I ignore her bellyaching and sweep my gaze across one of Seboia's most popular destinations.
At night, The Quiet Harpy is loud and boisterous, filled to capacity with peasants and nobles alike. But during the day – as it is now – it's eerily vacant, housing no more than a dozen or so patrons. Seated with Amara at one of the many scarred tables crammed into the dining area, my eyes lazily drift to those who have battled the depressing doom and gloom of the popular night spot for a decent mid-day meal. Or for some, like the notorious drunk who's currently sprawled across the bar snoring, to drown themselves in their cups. Several stools down from the passed out fae, two males eat a solitary meal at the bar. Near the entrance, a human couple whispers sweet nothings to one another beneath the bay window. An older fae with bloodshot eyes a few tables down from us grumbles to himself as he downs his ale. Near the cold hearth towards the rear of the pub, a half dozen fae in soiled, tattered clothing play a spirited game of dice. Judging off their rowdiness and the several empty tankards before them, I suspect they’ve been here several hours already.
Amara releases a hunger filled groan and kicks my foot aside, rudely invading my foot territory beneath the table. I curl my lip at the offending body part and kick her foot back towards her own side.
“Ow!”
“Stop whining,” I grit out. “You’re always fucking whining.”
“I’m not whining,” she whines, rubbing her shin.
I grind my teeth. “Yes. You. Are.”
She tosses her arms up, dropping them back to her thighs with a loud smack. “I haven’t eaten all day!”
Feeling my vexation piqued by my own hunger, I suck on my teeth. “Neither have I, but you don’t hear me bitching about it.”
“If someone hadn’t eaten all the food this morning,” she says, eyeing me in open accusation, “then maybe I wouldn’t be whining.”
“I didn’t eat all the food,” I lie, watching the drunk roll off the bar and land flat on his face. Surprised but at the same time not, he doesn’t crack a single eyelid as he continues snoring.
At my response, Amara’s eyes narrow and I watch her fingers curl around the edges of the table, readying to claw my eyes out. “You left me less than a handful of nuts!”
That’s because I didn’t know there were any more nuts. If I did, I would have eaten those as well.
“I was hungry.” I shrug, and she seethes further. “Besides, I needed it more.”
