Page 38 of Destroyer

If he'd been a prince before, now he had the aura of a king and he was dressed to match.

He wore deep green velvet, so dark it was almost black, with patterned threads of dark gold sewn through, catching the light when he moved. His jacket hung open, and a waistcoat of the same color clung to his chest. A white neckcloth frothed out from a starched collar. He was frowning, pulling at the waistcoat’s high collar until he loosened it enough to reveal more of his neck.

Ru watched him, mouth dry. His eyes were so fiercely wild, and his hair so impervious to styling that he appeared windswept and dramatic, even in this staid setting.

When Fen saw her looking, he smiled, and she dropped her eyes with embarrassment. Her brother’s interest in Fen had made her both shy and agitated. She was confused that Fen was still here, and upset that he wouldn’t be around for long. Was he truly so fascinated by the stone? Was he simply here to… protect Ru? Support her? She didn't understand his motivation, and that frustrated her. She wanted to speak to him privately, but since they’d arrived in Mirith, there hadn’t been a chance.

Throughout dinner she kept trying to make eye contact, to indicate that she wanted to talk, but each attempt was fleeting, brief. During the soup course, Ru looked up briefly to see Fen watching her, but his eyes darted away as soon as their gazes met.

Her heart sank when his attention turned to a lovely young courtier sitting beside him, a woman whose golden hair was piled atop her head, adorned in white roses.

Ru kept trying to catch his eye, but to no avail. There were too many distractions, too much laughter and loud conversation. And by the time the venison arrived, steaming on gold plates and garnished with dark tart berries and sweet root vegetables, Ru finally decided that she should stop glancing furtively, and simply call Fen over to sit next to her.

Setting her shoulders, she leaned forward in her seat. “Fen,” she hissed.

He didn’t hear her, his attention once again taken by the courtier beside him. A horrible prickly feeling coiled in Ru's chest, and it wasn't the artifact.

In fact, the artifact had been quiet all afternoon, distant yet still present. Ru was almost used to it now.

“Good evening, is this seat taken?” said a smooth, accented voice.

Ru turned abruptly to see who had spoken. She was greeted by a man bowing, golden hair falling around his face. When he straightened, he held out a hand that was heavy with silver and jewels, putting even Simon to shame. He was very finely dressed in pale silks, countered by a strong jaw and seemingly even stronger hands. He grasped her hand gently as he brushed the faintest kiss across her gloved knuckles.

He was one of the most arrestingly beautiful people she had seen in her life.

She blinked up at him. “Please sit,” she said, indicating the chair.

He did, delicately masculine, coattails sweeping out behind him. He turned back to her, a knowing smile creasing his face. A small dimple appeared on his left cheek, and it was almost as if heknewhe was pulling Ru’s attention straight to it.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, and Ru was finally able to place his accent — Mekyan. “I apologize for not doing so immediately; the lack of food has gone to my head. I am Lord D’Luc.”

“Ah, you have arrived, my lord,” said the regent, noting Lord D’Luc’s appearance. “I thought you had left poor Miss Delara to sit alone all night.”

He laughed, a deep, lovely sound. “I would never deprive her willingly. Miss Delara, what a pleasure to meet you.” He met her gaze, and she was embarrassed by the effect he had on the state of her stomach. But there was something intense about him, magnetic.

Ru turned away from Lord D'Luc, glancing across the table at Fen. His eyes were dark, and he utterly ignored the golden-haired courtier, despite her attempts to regain his attention. Catching Ru’s eye, he raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, disapproving. Ru's stomach twisted again — was he jealous?

“Why haven’t I seen you before at court?” asked Lord D’Luc, pulling her attention away from Fen. She turned back to see him swirling his wine, his gaze sweeping over her appreciatively. “I would have remembered you.”

Ru’s insides tumbled again, her cheeks heating, despite knowing exactly what Lord D'Luc was doing. As much as she wished it were otherwise, she was anything but immune to the charms of handsome men. “I live at the Cornelian Tower,” she explained. “I don’t make a habit of being the Lady Regent’s guest of honor.”

“And yet I hear you’ve made quite a name for yourself in the world of academia,” he drawled, his cupid’s bow lips curving in a smile. “I read your infamous paper, ‘From Sorcery to Science…’”

Ru reached for her wine, fingers tightening around the stem of the glass. “Ah. I thought only scholars would have read that.”

“And who says I’m not a scholar?” he asked. “Even lords amuse themselves with academic texts, especially these days. I like to keep myself informed. And…” he lowered his voice as if sharing a great secret with her, “I have always been intrigued by the inexplicable, the occult.”

Ru bristled slightly. “My paper doesn’t at all address the…” she trailed off, suddenly distracted by the sight of her brother. He had meandered closer and was now staring so intently at her that it seemed as if he was trying to bore a hole straight into her brain. He continued to sing and strum his lute as he did so. She cut a glare at him as if to say,not now.

Lord D’Luc frowned. Even his frowns were lovely.

“Sorry, my lord,” said Ru, hurriedly. “The minstrel distracted me.”

“But you were saying, about your paper?”

“Well,” said Ru, surprised to find someone who wanted to discuss her paper without mocking it, eager despite everything, “you must understand that not all magic is occult, and not all occult matters are truly magic. There is some overlap, but often what we call the ‘occult’ is folklore or religion. I find that to get to the truth, it is easiest to delve into where these twodooverlap. There, we can locate the merging of story with reality, science with the impossible, as it were. Of course, I don’t believe that magic is impossible – what many might call magic is actually science, perhaps performing or existing on a level we can’t calculate or comprehend. Our technology is far too limited to measure it. But I wouldn’t reduce the term magic toadvanced science, as there is still a spiritual factor, an unknowing that we must accept as intrinsic to the practice.”

Lord D’Luc was nodding as he listened, brow furrowed. Ru wondered if he’d actually understood anything in her ramblings. “So in a way,” he said thoughtfully, “the occult is, ultimately, irrelevant, unless accepted as an intrinsic part of magic itself.”

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